The pains of truth

April 24th, 2010 by Dale Fincher

This is cross-posted for April 23 @ www.firstyeardad.com.

I’ve not been entranced by a film in the last few years as I was with today’s.

The Lives of Others (2007) won an Oscar for Best Foreign Film and deserves it. I’d not heard of the film till Image Journal recommended it and Mom queued it on Netflix.

This is no easy post to write. Forgive my rambling controversy off the cuff. I’m feeling in the dark for something, moving through the dark air with words, hoping they land on something helpful.

In our movie, the time is 1984 in East Berlin before the Wall fell. A playwright is watched by the Stasi (the socialist secret police). One officer, a strict interrogator and party faithful, surveys the playwright day and night, searching to find conspiracy. The Stasi, whose goal is to “know everything,” tortures and coerces anyone that even smells of a differing opinion. Even joking of the Stasi is off-limits.

This is the first movie I’ve watched that so eloquently captured the ethos of my college years in the south, before going to Talbot.

When I first attended Talbot, I had a roommate who defected from communist Czechoslovakia when he was 25. Fifteen years later, our paths crossed as first year graduate students of philosophy at Biola. We stayed up late at night, telling stories of his time in the military and athletic training. His secret ways of coping with the ideology he grew up in. He was, at one point, one of the country’s top high jumpers. But traveling out of country was unallowed if that risked a defection. One day, with a crack in the system wedged open by an invisible Hand, he got a visa to leave. He returned only after the regime fell.

I would share with him stories of my college years. One night he sat up straight in his chair, shook his head and said through his thick Slavic accent, “That’s just like communist country!”

The Lives of Others is filled with the suspicion of others, the fear of losing control, the leadership untouchable with criticism on pain of losing everything. The playwright’s lover, a leading actress, lost everything.
And the strict Stasi agent watching the playwright daily, softened. Art touched him. Beauty and heart changed him. His change was nuanced and slow. Surrounded by radio equipment and donned with large headphones, a quiet tear fell down his cheek. My tears came too.

This is why I believe, contrary to postmodern thought, in the correspondence theory of truth. Beauty, truth, goodness is the good news that comes crashing into any worldview without raising a hand. These three face prisoners with an invitation for freedom. Nothing can match it. It is the stuff of the gospel. One must, however, open one’s soul to hear it, see it. It dangerously transforms. It topples Walls.

These optimistic, unhappy thoughts lead me to other dark trends in our world. Scott Peck wrote an excellent chapter on “Group Evil” that is important for our time. What allows someone to challenge the status quo? Is the status quo to be challenged? What are we willing to risk?

Group evil flourishes with fear and laziness. Fear is a lack of courage, a concern that we’ll lose too much: our homes, jobs, family, reputations, our lives.

Laziness is a lack of hard work. Hard work means openness to reality at all costs, searching, exploring, reading, conversing with opinions opposed to your own. It is peeking over the Berlin Wall and seeing freedom on the other side, though the freedom may cause fear. Laziness means we choose the “safe” thing and not the true thing.

Involvement in group evil is easy. Don’t read or study outside what the “authority” gives you. Find your approval from the “authority” over you. Believe “authority” knows what’s best and go with it.
Group evil is always among us. Do we recognize it? Why did it take so long for Christians to stand up to Hitler? Why did it take so long for white Christians to support Martin Luther King? Why do so many issues of the past look so obvious to us today when they were not obvious to the masses back then? What group evil is among us? It is here. But are we willing to name it in our midst?

We understand the courage it takes to stand up against it. But do we understand the work it takes to name it?
Twice in the last year, Mom and I have both been removed from book projects (one was very popular) by publishers because of our views on gender. The projects were not even about gender. With a swift sweep of the hand, we were done, like giving someone an “F” after he aced his math test because he likes the color blue. Why the prejudice against blue? What has that to do with math? And why be so prejudiced against our view of gender so much that it clouds all other contributions? Our view fits within orthodoxy. In fact, it fits in between the polar views that are currently battling in the church that we are hit with barrages from both sides.

That we as a church tolerate these behind-closed-doors decisions saddens me. But publishers know their constituents and how much money they would lose over the preposterous idea that men and women have equal value, not only before God, but before each other. Preposterous ideas worthy of political power plays, right?

But my expression here isn’t about gender. It’s about silencing people who express doubt about the status quo. Group evil happens because many will not study the subjects of controversy and often name-call the stranger. I remember when I was suspicious of the great theologian, Gordon Fee. He has such a brilliant, aged, scholarly mind. But I thought, “He can’t be that bright, because he’s missed a huge glaring problem in gender. He’s egalitarian.” I didn’t pause to question that perhaps, Fee knew something I didn’t. He was wrong because my subculture said so, because my elementary reading of Scripture said so. And my subculture read only my subculture’s books. And we were quite convinced, after reading each others’ books, that we were right.

We create propaganda for ourselves. Yes, we even silence ourselves for protection.

Our Stasi officer stepped out and saved a life. By saving a life, he lost everything. Then the Wall fell. The Group Evil, and the remaining Stasi officers, fell with it. And truth won.

You will have to take the blows when you stand against evil. It’s always been like this, as Jesus taught us. It will always be like this until kingdom come. Yet we’re not called to be faithful to the kingdoms of men or church organizations claiming to be the last preservers of truth. We’re called to be faithful to the Messiah, following truth boldly. Knowing him, the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings.

And, Finn (my son), you can count on Mom and me, as long as we have breath, to take the blows so we can preserve and unearth the precious gems of truth. And hold those gems dear for you. Those gems of truth that bring freedom. Those gems that makes room for love. The only gems worthy of our humanity.

Please comment. But do not leave comments on this blog. All comments and discussion go here.

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The Theology of Spiritual Abuse in Christianity Today

March 21st, 2010 by Dale Fincher

Spiritual abuse is an area of sensitivity for me. I’ve been abused and know what it’s like. I can also smell it coming a long way off and cross paths with many who have been abused on the verge of giving up on Jesus in the name of giving up on unhealthy “church” leadership or toxic Christian sub-cultures.

A major quality of spiritual abuse is using God’s name and God’s Word to degrade humans out of reach of God’s love. A telltale trademark is insisting humans are worthless creatures, how God had no reason to redeem us, how only Jesus on a cross gives us value (if we repent a certain kind of way and adapt to the sub-culture’s rules). The line of reasoning follows that unless you follow the perceived “anointed” pastor or leader of your group and unless you “submit” regularly, even against your reason and emotions (both of which you are are told not to trust), then you are worthless to God.

And so abused grow more dependent on the abusers to be right with God and to be loved.

Most of the time this abuse is subtle. And unless you have your wits about you and have loving outside influence, you can be easily absorbed into the abuse.

When speaking on the road, this topic invariably comes up. Some of it emerges from the self-proclaimed “fundamentalists” as well as from neo-Reformed circles, using narrow and wooden definitions of the “gospel” and “holiness” and ready to pounce, call names, and excommunicate in the name of God those who disagree. This view that justifies degrading the value of humans is what I call “worm theology.”

Worm theology is a twisting of the reformation doctrine of depravity. Depravity says we born corrupt, are capable of the most heinous evil, and cannot merit God’s salvation by works of the law. Worm theology takes depravity another step and says that, not only are we not good, but we are also not valuable. Symptoms of worm theology turn concepts like confession and guilt into a need for groveling. In addition, human value is found in “Christ” alone and in no other way. In other words, only Christians have value. (They often like using “Christ” as a word, rather than Jesus or Messiah, for it evokes a more mysterious, less connected God, who is so other-worldly, it only distances God further from our ugliness so he doesn’t have to look at it or touch it–for that would make him unclean. This comes out in interpretations of verses like “God cannot look on sin.” Sin, on this view, is kryptonite to God. And when we sin, we do not just grow more evil, but we also grow less valuable.)

A few days ago, a prime-time example came to my inbox published by Christianity Today. It is supposed to be a piece on soul formation. It is supposed to show how great God’s love is. It is supposed to show the good news of the gospel. However, this article rather lays the theological foundation of spiritual abuse.

Read the article first and then read below. Love Needs No Reason by Mark Galli.

I would be less bothered by this article if he came from a freelance writer. But Galli is managing editor of Christianity Today and carries his views of grace, love and human dignity into CT’s pages regularly. I often disagree with Galli’s articles, usually because he operates from the theological perspective shown here. For one writing on soul-formation in CT, this is deeply problematic in application.

From the start, Galli makes the reader suspicious of psychology with his opening line. Growing up conservative in a spiritually abusive environment, I was always taught that psychology was evil and that self-esteem today replaced the “Christ-esteem” of the past. But I’ve outgrown those views and find them papery thin defenses against facing reality at all costs. And I’ve never understood what “Christ-esteem” was supposed to be. I think this article gives us an idea. There is no intrinsic value in the self alone. Only “Christ” can give us value.

I understand therapeutic culture and psychology. Therapeutic culture is often nothing more than a salve to help us feel better by explaining away our ailment, not an intense look at our issues and how we can grow. Psychology, on the other hand, explores what human growth is about and helps us get honest with who we are, our past, and our relationships. After all, if there’s one giant economy God is concerned about in Scripture it is how we relate to him and each other. A good example of modern-psychology giving us the tools to no longer put salve on our wounds but heal from them through love is Scott Peck’s The Road Less Traveled. There is nothing negatively therapeutic about this book. This kind of psychology penetrates the human soul much deeper than most of the works by those that denounce it.

I often suspect the Enemy has blinded many Jesus-followers into avoiding psychology because a good therapist will help deliver them to love and humility rather than doctrinal posturing. It is the fear of the Lord that is the beginning of wisdom.

Galli writes:

But in his desire to proclaim the magnificent love of God, he inadvertently fell into language that actually proclaims bad news—all this talk of the intrinsic value in the object of love.

The writer is saying that modern-psychology, not God, claims intrinsic value for every human. This is contrary to a major historical tenant of Christian theology: that humans are intrinsically valuable.

I wonder if Galli is borrowing from the theological tradition of Duns Scotus who thought God’s laws did not comply with nature but were arbitrary (a form of Divine Command theory). This was in contrast to Thomas Aquinas who said God made laws according to the nature of the universe he made. Duns has no problem with God doing things unreasonably. Thomas did. And this is why Thomas, not Duns, is considered the greatest intellectual in Christian history.

Here is the way Galli’s argument goes:

For if we have some measure of intrinsic value to God, a number of things follow: First, it is our value, and not God’s love, that forces God’s hand. He looks at us and sees something of value, and being a reasonable fellow—one who knows and appreciates things of value—he pretty much has to redeem us. The love of God is not given freely in mercy to the undeserving, but instead to the deserving—because, after all, we are of infinite worth! God would be a poor judge of character if he did not choose to die for us.

Galli wants to pit our value against the love of God. His view of love is one that is motivated by nothing more than simply wanting something to be. God can choose to love whatever he wants and he needs no reasons to do so. Loving for a a reason, according to Galli, is no love at all. So if I love my son more than other children, I cannot call it “love” if I love him because I procreated him. I also cannot love my wife more than any other women because I find her a better fit for me. And when I appreciate her, show affection for her, give her flowers, the truest form of love is one that disregards her as a person and loves from some deep resources of sheer blind will-power within me. Loving her because she is she and I am I, as argued above, is not love. Love must be a sterile, ethereal, an abstract thing. This goes against the familial and relational terms God assigns to Israel, long before the time of Jesus. Maybe God meant Israel was his wife in a strictly platonic sense.

Starting to have a lesser view of God?

Galli also overstates the case about humans. Why does he think that only an infinite human can be a worthwhile human? If we were of infinite worth, we’d be of the same worth as God himself and that is incorrect. But we can be very worthwhile, even if not infinitely worthwhile, right?

Second, if we had intrinsic worth, then it is hard to imagine why Christ would have had to die for us. We are already people of “infinite worth”—what’s there to die for? Instead, you’d think Christ would come to earth to pay us homage. You would think his mission might have been to tell us about our infinite worth, and to makes sure we not only get that point but also live it. The mission of Christ would be educational and moral, but it would hardly need to be salvific.

I’m unsure of Galli’s reasoning here. Why does our having intrinsic worth automatically exempt us from penalty? This is a common confusion among many conservative who think that by saying someone is valuable, we’re also condoning their sin. I hear many say they don’t want to love people in a “condoning” way. But what’s condoning about love? Love is to extend yourself for the growth of another. You cannot help someone grow if you excuse the thing that prevents the growth. So many bottle their love for others and expect people to repent before we can find them lovely.

But this is the very opposite of Jesus’ example. He tells us to love our enemies, despite their repentance. Why would he say this? If they lack value without Jesus, then why love them? Could it be that Jesus bought into modern “therapeutic psychology” and believed even his enemies had intrinsic worth? As one friend remarked about this article, “This author would have us think it’s no tragedy at all if a sinner dies without Christ, nothing of value will be lost.” And Jesus argument cannot be that his death makes them worthwhile because Jesus has not yet died. Apparently we are to love the lost abstractly, simply because God loves them, though God, on Galli’s view, has no reason to love them. We are to share the gospel with them, not because the gospel is the only idea on the planet worthy of the human soul, but by sheer, cold obedience.

Starting to feel dehumanized by this view?

Third, it would be hard to know what it means when the Bible talks about—and it talks about this stuff a lot—our being God’s enemies, in rebellion against him, deserving of death. The ideas that swirl around our supposed infinite worth, of course, emphasize that we’re mostly victims, trapped in a nexus of sin and death. God sees people of great value chained by circumstances beyond their control and comes to the rescue. God becomes a big brother helping the innocent but infinitely valuable lost, and not a merciful savior of the very people who are his enemies.

This is where Galli begins to equivocate his concepts. I’m surprised no editor caught this. It is not a contradiction to say an enemy, a rebellious person, who is deserving of death is also a valuable creature. There is no logical contradiction here. Most certainly a valuable creature can be tarnished and flawed, even by his own doing. To be valuable doesn’t mean God becomes a big brother nor that we are inculpable victims. You can be valuable and be an enemy. You can be valuable and be damned. Value does not absolve you of any crime and dismisses no punishment. A valuable man can accrue debts to be paid (a common motif in New Testament language “wages of sin is death”). I want Galli to explain why he thinks if a creature has value it is also a creature that us automatically moral. Valuable things can be broken. Wedding bands get tarnished. Children steal cookies. Ferraris need tune-ups. Even capital punishment should not be cruel nor unusual for the simple reason that even the most evil among us has dignity, even if the perpetrator himself doesn’t believe it.

The real truth of the matter is that we are no longer worthy. We are not mere victims but rebels. We’re not the innocent lost but God’s enemies. We’re not people hard on our luck, deserving of another chance, but people who deserve death. People who deserve death are not people of infinite worth.

Here Galli makes the turn of phrase more clear. He confuses having “worth” with being “worthy.” Worth is ontological. It means that something has value by the sheer fact that it exists. To be “worthy” is a relational term of meriting a favor or to have a character for a position. Anyone can have worth and be unworthy. Our judicial system shows us this distinction in everyday life all the time. God does too. Israel was often unfaithful (just like the “church” today) but their sin did not erase their worth. God’s mercy saved them from their own devices. God’s mercy did not make them more valuable.

And here’s the fatal flaw in Galli’s assumptions:

But Christ did not die for us because we are valuable; we are valuable because Christ died for us. It is not for us to say to one another, “Worthy are you!”—which is the mantra of a great deal of modern psychology. Instead, we turn to God and say, “Worthy are you, O Lord our God!” (Rev. 4:11).

Based on the discussion above, do you see how he equates having value with having merit? “We are valuable because Christ died for us.” In this article, Galli’s theological history goes back only to the the end of the gospels at crucifixion of Jesus. But if he could look further back, he’d see a different assumption running through Scripture. We are valuable in Genesis 1.

God made humans in his image. Humans did not give themselves value. God gave humans value in the very act of creating them. The work of grace on the part of God is from beginning to end. He created us, loves us, sustains us. He made us valuable, though we soiled ourselves.

Galli’s theology ignores us as image bearers of God, denounces our value, and claims that only through redemption, not creation, are we given true worth. In his quest to make God’s love abstract and unreasonable, he demeans God as creator and his act of creating humans. God’s redeeming love DOES have reasons. God only redeems things valuable enough to redeem. To do otherwise is arbitrary and arbitrariness is shallow and unworthy of worship. As I wrote in my comment on Galli’s article, why did God, then choose humans to redeem? Why not hippos or squirrels? And if the answer is God chose us because he makes the best beauty from the darkest ashes, then I would say, that is a REASON. And there are creatures more fallen than we that he chose not to redeem.

In fact, God will redeem all of creation, including hippos and squirrels because all of creation is his.

In short, God redeems humans in a special way because he made them valuable in his image. God created the reason for redeeming us the very day he made us. We did not move God’s hand to redeem us because we are valuable. He moved his own hand by making us valuable to begin with. This is the link Galli is missing by drawing his theology merely through a certain kind of redemption lens and not through a much larger lens that includes creation and consummation.

Galli continues his abstract view of unreasonable love by applying it to others:

…anyone who has lived and worked with people for more than a few seconds knows that people are stinkers. It’s not a matter of finding something valuable in them—some treasure, some gift, something worthy and deserving of our love. Many days, we just won’t be able to see anything worthy at all! But that’s no reason to stop loving. No, the people we live and work with are just as undeserving of love as are we—which is the only reason we love them. We love just as God first loved us.

I scratch my head at this and wonder if Galli has only served people for a few seconds. Hasn’t he sat in the meaning of human suffering? Hasn’t he weept by seeing the image of God in decay? Again he’s equivocating between value and merit. And I pity the person this author tries to help on the street who is destitute, if the author brings this view above to the soup-kitchen.

Notice the suble way Galli cashes out what makes someone valuable: “something valuable in them–some treasure, some gift, something worthy and deserving of our love.” Stop. Read it again. He says something “in them.” Intrinsic value doesn’t come from something IN someone, but intrinsic value IS someone. Galli adds that if we’re to find someone valuable, they must posses a gift. This is functional language, saying that if someone has something to offer, like a gift, then they are useful and, if useful, then valuable. This is classic spiritual abusive language (and wickedly subtle). Jesus’ demonstration of reaching out was that the benefactors of his grace were intinsically valuable people. It had nothing to do with what they could do for him.

We love people, not because of what they have, but because of who they are: immortal souls that bear God’s image. If we have not yet matured into seeing them as valuable, we may have to practice the discipline of helping people that we see as lacking value with hopes we learn to see them a fellow humans who bear God’s image. Anything short of that insults what God has made, diminishing him as creator.

What then are we to make of the dignity of humans held as slaves or making laws to protect the minority? On what grounds do we save the unborn and offer help to those mothers? Why rebuild governments after dictators thrash a nation? Why help the lost who suffer genocide? Do we help them because Christ died for them? A strict Calvist would say no for Christ only died for Christians. Or do we help them because of something in them that God breathed on that sixth day of creation? What are the arguments of the great religious and social reformers in history? We help people because they are souls who bear God’s image. This was a battle cry of the reformation: to be made in God’s image means we show dignity to one another, even when we disagree, even to those who spit on Jesus. All are equal before God because of this image, whether clergy or laity. .

Never does the Bible say that God loves us because we were created in his image, because he believes we have intrinsic worth. Indeed, a few verses speak of our value to God (like Matthew 6:26), but the dominant message is not that our value prompts God’s love, but that God’s love establishes our value.

Here Galli tries to make up some lost ground by preempting his critics. I am guessing he believes that the Scripture must be overt, chapter and verse, stating that God is motivated to redeem us because of our value. The necessity to cite chapters and verses is a common requirement of fundamentalist and the neo-reformed followers But theology doesn’t work like that. The Scripture is filled with assumptions we have to unpack that float freely around chapters and whole books. And I think Galli would be served well with some work in philosophical theology (by the way, fundamentalists and neo-reformers often shy away from philosophy too… this is another concern I have, like the man complaining he’s hungry but won’t eat the bread you gave him because it came from the wrong market).

Galli has told us that “Christ” makes us valuable in redemption. He failed to say that God makes us valuable prior to redemption, in creation. I repeat, God made us valuable in creation. We didn’t make ourselves valuable. God created in us the motivation to redeem us when we go bad.

What we discover in God is that love is not love in the deepest sense if it is motivated by anything intrinsic in the beloved—another’s worth, value, gifts, or potential. If our actions are motivated by such things, it is not love. We are merely giving people their due, obligated by some value in them to honor and respect them. Love is not love unless freely given, given for no reason at all but merely out of that “great love.”

At the end of the day, we have to raise our hand and wonder where Galli is getting his definition of love. It’s an abstract peculiar one. On is definition, no child truly loved a parent. And humans cannot love God, truly, because God deserves the love. Jesus command then becomes unreachable, for real love means loving things that have no worth. So either Galli’s view of love is wrong, or Galli believes God has no worth. Galli returns to a previous idea here at the end of the article saying that if someone is valuable than loving them is not loving. And he continues to believe that value means merit.

As an apologist, I see Galli’s answer that God loves for no reason may as a helpful hint as to why God created, but not why God redeemed. In eternity past, before creation existed at all, what came into God’s mind that he would make such a world? What motivated him? It must have been the pleasure of his will coupled with what a world would look like that he loved enough to make intrinsically valuable.

Once God creates, everything he creates has intrinsic worth.

Be on the lookout for this kind of worm theology. It has led many to spiritual abuses and has left many leaving the church disillusioned by a God that creates worthless things. This insults not only God’s creation and God’s gospel, but God himself.

And if you struggle with knowing God’s love and why he would love you, seek out someone who knows God’s love who has solid therapy training and credentials (that wasn’t developed by fundamentalists and neo-reformed folks). As my previous therapist, who is not a Christian, told me: “If the church was doing it’s job 100 years ago, psychotherapy would never have arisen.” I quite agree with her. And this article solidifies the point.

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A new name for Birdie Boy

March 2nd, 2010 by Dale Fincher

See Jonalyn’s post on this theme.

The day’s vital details

Born this countdown day… 3210 or 3-2-10 or March 2, 2010 @ 2:41pm. A warm, sunny day in Steamboat, Birdie Boy delivered naturally (without any medication) under seven hours. Five days past due, he rang in his birthday celebration at a whopping nine pounds twelve ounces. Jonalyn is well and recovering peacefully.

The first song he heard was Rich Mullins, “The Color Green.”

Now to name him.

From Wales to the New World

My great-great-grandfather stepped off a boat from Wales on his way to the new world. At the immigration station on the American shore, the processing agent asked his name.

“David Davies,” he said with a thick accent. In England and Wales, “Davies” is pronounced “Davis.”

“Right,” said the American agent. And wrote “Davis” on the paperwork.

My maternal surname on that day shifted to “Davis.”

The historic Welsh tradition was to name a child your last name first, like my great-great grandfather, David Davies. “David” is another form of “Davies” and “Davis.” If you meet a Robert Roberts, you’ve met someone influenced by Welsh tradition. Or a William Williams. My grandfather was “David D. Davis.” His middle name was “Dale.” My grandmother called him “Dave.”

I bear the middle name of my grandfather, D. D. Davis. D. D. Davis helped people, their bodies and their souls. With only a high school degree and naval service in the construction battalion in WW2, his active imagination and culture taste appreciated good food, good art, and good company. He took pains to help the unnoticed: workers who needed work, homeless who needed shelter. He passed our bibles, quietly, on university campuses. He was one of the first to employ African-Americans on his building projects in Ohio. He cared about high culture, restored museums, toured the major galleries of the world, tasted the finest restaurants on the planet. He traveled the world, looking for opportunities to help local economies before micro-loans were popular. He loved Jerusalem and sang songs about that city. He supported a little known Indian man whose voice is now all over the world. That voice belonged to Ravi Zacharias and Ravi’s first book was dedicated to my grandfather. My most recent book is too: His “ordinary life with Jesus looks extraordinary in the world.”

Girls vs. boys names

Naming children is difficult business. Some people, stumped by the overload of options, wait till the day of birth. The child could be named after the doctor or nurse or, as one story I heard, the brand of the clock on the wall in the delivery room.

No wonder the Welsh took the easier way of moving the last name and to the front.

Today, I’ve noticed that girls get the advantage of the exotic, unusual names. Girl names are cute and creative, even invented. Boy names not so much. To name a boy “Apple” as Gwyneth Paltrow named her daughter would be a little odd in our culture (though I like the idea). Nicole Richie named her new son, “Sparrow,” pushing the edge of popular trends. I’m unsure if it works. If you look around the web, you’ll discover that girl names have a lower statistic of repetition, unlike boy names.

We had “invented” a girl name not long after we discovered the pregnancy. Piece of cake. But a boy name…few evoked both good poetry and meaning at the same time. Names work like wine to a meal. The challenge was pairing a first name with such an earthy sounding last as “Fincher.”

A “fincher” is one who buys, sells, and distributes finch birds. My parents, I’m sure, rolled the sound over and over again to make three family names piece together in “Charles Dale Fincher.” With names like that there is no mistaking my heritage from the British Isles.

Making names fit

We wanted our son’s name to at least sound right, even if it had no meaning. Tirian sounded good by itself, but not with Fincher. The royal name of the last king of Narnia felt blunt against the outdoorsy Fincher. Same with Crispan. Maxen, Brac, Pascal, Elis all sounded good on their own. But the surname dulled it. And “Francis,” the name of the first Quaker who settled in the new world on my paternal side, just won’t do.

What to do… what to do…

My Favorite Play

In college a mentor discovered my knack for acting. My favorite play in college was the second play I performed. It wasn’t on the large “main stage” nor was it “high art” like my later Shakespearian dramas. But I still have the straw hat my mentor stole from the prop closet (partly because I had mangled it so much through use), a gift from my part in The Adventure of Tom Sawyer.

I loved playing Tom. If he didn’t have adventure, he invented it. He was a better con than I could ever be. Yet his side-kick intrigued me. Huckleberry didn’t invent adventure; he lived it often against his will. Considering his unasked-for background, he dun had to make his own way on the Mississip.

I can relate to Huck more than Tom. Huck Finn had to do what he had to do, even when the grown-ups threatened him with hell, them being so particular and decent in all their ways.
And Huck, in Twain’s sequel to Tom, finds an unexpected companion on the big river. Jim was running from the law that enslaved him; Huck from the law that forced him to live with his abusive father. Both had to run into what was “wrong” to find what was right, though what was right warn’t “right” to the people of the time. Two friends was living what was good, the best they could, even when they didn’t know it was good, even when all the world was a-huntin’ ‘em down.

A new name

I like what Huck Finn means, his courage, his friendship.

I also like the Welsh heritage of double-naming. Maybe the poetry of Wales led my grandparents to name my mother, Lois Davis. I’m unsure. But we’re following suit.

Finn. That works.

I sat on the name “Lewis” for a long time for a middle name. It has a ring to it, meaning “lionlike,” resembling the Great Lion, and reflected my hero Clive Staples. Yet my boy needs to find his own way, not be named after someone that he may not come to appreciate. For a long time I wanted to name my son after my grandfather, “Davis.” Would it work for Finn? What if we took the older use of that name? “Davies” is the name borne on that ship to the New World. And we’re reviving it for the future: Davies (like “Davis”).

A name from a man of virtue and faithfulness to the God of Israel—the legacy of Finn’s great-grandfather, D. D. Davis, whose quiet influence is felt throughout the world today.

Our boy can choose to be called all sorts of things: Finn, Dave, Davie, Davies, and even “Finch” if he likes. For now, we’ll call him “Finn.”

Finn Davies Fincher.

You are named, son. Wear it well.

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Falling Through Ice

February 7th, 2010 by Dale Fincher

I’ve caught a couple hundred trout in Fetcher Pond these four summers I’ve lived in Steamboat. It’s my stocked go-to pond for casual practice of new flies and teaching beginners who visit us. I once tube-floated it, but bikers and hikers shouted out one-liners and laughed at me for my professional approach in amateur water. I’ve never seen another do it.

Fetcher sits beside the Yampa River. If I’ve brought my waders I can hop from a beginner pond to intermediate river, where the trout turn wild and expand to Browns and Cutthroat. Sizes can double too.

This morning, after some reading at a coffee shop, I took a walk along the Yampa for reflection, to see what I could see. A narrow inlet flowed between the ice-pack and boulders covered in marshmallow. At Fetcher I noticed tracks on the pond and a small snow sculpture in the middle.

Walking on ice is walking on water. I pondered the novelty and shuffled out on previous tracks, toward the sculpture. Have people been ice fishing on the pond? I wondered.

A small section on the edge had been brushed of snow and I edged toward it, hearing water flow down the outlet, pouring under the thick sheet of ice. I surveyed the shore, standing where my fly has floated a thousand times.

Gravity tugged.

You know the warning they give you in the movies when the ice is thin? The protagonist walks across the frozen water, the ice cracks, and the camera zooms in and follows the ice shattering like a web on a windshield? This wasn’t like that. One moment I pictured myself on shore back in summertime, the next I was waist-deep in water, no transition, no warning, no slow-motion. My arms caught the rim of ice my body had made, my shoes and socks immersed, the water seeping through my pants.

What now? The water felt more wet than cold.

I pushed myself up. Expecting the edges to peel under pressure, I crab-crawled backwards, likely dragged by Jesus on whose name I called. Did my lack of faith draw me down? I stood up again on the ice.

Shuffling briskly to another part of shore, I scaled the snowy bank and glanced at the open mouth that tried to eat me. I looked at the Yampa River. I wanted a longer walk. But wanted to avoid writing a silly headline on the free local newspaper: Man Hospitalized from a Winter Stroll After Falling into Pond.

I drove home wet, feeling the fiery cocktail of caffeine and adrenaline in my blood. That jittery mix shook my hands while I hung my dripping socks. Time to stoke the fire.

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My annoyance with the telephone (and vote for better letters!)

February 3rd, 2010 by Dale Fincher

Does the ring of the telephone fill you with anticipation or does it evoke dread? Does it tell you,

Hey, pick me up, I’m a surprise, like a birthday present… under the wrapping of this ringtone is something that could change your life!

Or does it tell you,

Hey you, stop what you’re doing and pay attention to me, NOW… don’t glance up and then look away!… put your pen down, Mister, slam on the brakes and notice me!!

If someone was waiting for a romantic call or for a word that grandpa survived surgery or that our client is ready to make a deal, we’re grateful for the phone on these special occasions. We can relax knowing the news, when available, will be immediate. Soon enough, we’ll see what path lies ahead for us and those we love.

Yet most of the time we are not hanging in mid-air waiting for a call to help us land. We are doing life somewhere. Without so much as a warning from the window of our guest walking up the garden path to knock on our door, the phone blurts out, slicing the silence of the room, shouting that we are wanted… now!

I read that the philosopher, H. L. Mencken, once said that the ring of a distracting telephone made him “wishing heartily that Alexander Graham Bell had been run over by an ice wagon at the age of 4.” Sometimes I do too. Not that I wish the demise of the brilliant Bell, but there’s something peculiar about the phone that requires instant attention.

Would Bell have dared his invention had he known of the future cell phone? The cell, that ubiquitous tether to the world, that device in our hands that reminds us again and again (after we pony up a large monthly bill) that we are wanted, needed at the mall, the ice cream shop, while commuting the kids to school, writing our memoir, strolling in the park. The cell pretends we are celebrities, making our personal narrative available to the public without so much as dodging a paparazzi-like ambush of call, texts, and the other tools of smartness on our phones.

At home, I screen my calls. My answering machine says so. People ask why we don’t use Caller ID. We do. But Caller ID is inconsistently useless.

“Out of area” doesn’t help.

“Michigan” tells me little.

And “blocked” numbers? “Blocked” numbers tell people in a warm cheery ringtone, “Pick me up, don’t worry, I value transparency and respect your time!” Uh huh.

People comment on our boldness to screen our calls with our answering machine.

How about that? “Boldness.”

I know some people have a different affection for the phone than I. Their response to our “boldness” tells me something about them… Are these the people who feel ignored and need the ambush-effect of a phone call? Or do they think it social rudeness to not pick up the invisible visitor? Is it more rude to interrupt a quiet, hard-working day of another? Or more rude to ignore the interrupter? Cannot a call diverted to the answering machine say,

You’re valuable, truly. Doing what I’m doing in my space with the gifts I’ve been given is more important in this moment than talking to you… is that okay?

The telephone, for me, is a convenience for the most urgent communications; yet not much of a social device. I have several reasons for this and they are all personal.

First, verbal communication is a limited thing. We are told that most communication comes through body language, eye-contact and tone, even more than the words we use. In the performing arts, we learn that the eyes are the most important communicator on the stage. If the eyes are unbelieving or disengaged, then communication is lost no matter the words we use.

I’ve caught hints of people on social calls more interested in being “on” the phone than in having a conversation. I picture their eyes wondering who knows where, pretending to be a good multi-tasker.

Now my second point: different kinds of discourse.

With the added work to translate information through the telephone, two different, but related kinds of discourse are required to navigate a conversation. One is rational discourse. If someone is good at thinking through ideas, then this is not an issue. However, if you are not good at thinking on your feet, this creates a disadvantage which does not allow the other modes of communicating, like a face-to-face encounter, may give: pausing, glancing, grabbing salt and pepper shakers on the lunchroom table and making a schemata. The immediacy of the technology subtly miscommunicates the immediacy of a conversation, give an instant answer. Since I’m quick on my feet with rational discourse, this isn’t as much of an issue if people want to talk ideas or give an update.

However, most of the time, the telephone also includes the other kind of thinking: relational discourse.

Relational discourse means navigating the relationship happening on the phone, reading what the other person is “really” saying and how they are connecting with you personally. For me to engage relational discourse, I need what the phone doesn’t give: the body language and eye contact (and, no, skype doesn’t give eye-contact either because you look into the eyes of the video image, not the person). Some are better wired for relational discourse on the phone, like our dog-sitter, Ben. He tells me he prefers the phone because he over-thinks the other signals so much that he can’t hear what another is saying. “Why did they raise their eyebrow?” he asks. Better to talk without all the bodily distractions.

Here’s a practical example: how do you interrupt on the phone? To know when someone is finished with a point so they can be adequately interrupted without offense is something I need in conversation. I often end up misjudging their point’s conclusion and interrupting repeatedly, talking over them, pausing, frustrated. People do this to me too. It bugs. I’d like to lift a hand, like a crossing-guard, or nod like I’m already getting the point so please stop rambling, or a glance at the wrist watch to indicate I’m bored and have other valuable things to do or find a distraction nearby to change the subject, “Oh, did you see that clown go into the pizza shop?!!”

Or when I’m monologuing, how do I know if the other person is really interested? They could just be the typically defeated suburban husband, like Mr. Incredible,

Uh huh, good, good…

No, Bob, not good! shouts back Elastigirl.

Third, you have people who master telephone conversation, working words and silences to get what they want. Some passive aggressive, I bet, love the phone, poking their heads into distant lives via 10,000 miles of phone wire, people that we try to limit our time with if they’re to have any relationship with us at all. Do they know they are passive aggressive? Do they even know this is a problem? They move like salesmen, motioning you to agree or say something before you know what you’ve said. They play with the silences to get you to talk. “Well, I am amazed that they said that to you!”

Inner-monologue: No, I’m not! Why did I just say that?

Likewise, I have the dilemma of telling people I don’t like their inquiry: it’s too personal, it’s none of their business, it’s boring. Body language, eye contact can speak volumes in this, leaving your disagreement in the conversation ambiguous. Ambiguity is good: it gives the other a chance to reflect on what they are doing without being call on the carpet. However, on the phone you’ve gotta say it outright: “Um, I don’t want to talk about that.” Awkward silence. Leaving no doubt as to where you stand, deadening a relationship that could have been resuscitated had it not been the telephones damned demand for bluntness.

Talk on the phone is for me like climbing a tree with one hand. Awkward, risky, and I walk away with scratches.

Maybe this is a guy thing, at least in American culture. I know more women prefer the phone than men, though I know some men who would rather phone than write an email and women who prefer email to the phone. Yet, in general, women tend to do their socializing on the phone more than men, having, perhaps, that sensitive awareness to understand tone and words, to skillfully climb a tree with one hand.

Now, for those who prefer the phone over email, let’s make a case for the written word. I prefer email to the phone. If my phone represented half of the emails I receive, I’d get nothing done. I’ve heard many say that the phone is more personal and “old-fashioned” and email impersonal. But is this so? Telephones “old fashioned”? Maybe for an older living generation but not in history. Emails are newer, but at least these are things I can save. I wish I had more personal notes from my grandfather and mother, who have migrated to another country from where no phone lines are long enough to preserve a talking relationship. Phone conversations easily slip into small talk which are, in my opinion, relational but not often that personal, like the chatter in the foyer after a Sunday church service.

Before electronic technology, nobody had telephones or email. Communication was personal meetings and letters. Telephoning is like a personal meeting on a diet, reducing eye-contact and body language. Emails are still letter writing. While we often write emails too hastily and lose the art of crafting words, let’s not blame the technology for that. Let’s blame a hurried society instead. Emails are the same as letter sent on the pony express; now the pony is the web. As long as the recipient doesn’t demand an immediate reply, I’ll take an email, usually, as much as a mailed letter.

Letters allow tone and words. A good metaphor can move the imagination as easily as body language, if not more. Written words also add complete thoughts, uninterrupted. When someone gets to monologuing in a letter, you step away and re-engage their manta after tea. And as one crafts his ability to write, he can also add in details not otherwise afforded by telephone conversations. Writing requires you say what you mean (if you are not hasty), mull over ideas, and protects us from inappropriate word choices. Writing requires the reader to sit and ponder the carefully chosen phrases, the reading between the lines. Email, if done well, can be catalogued next to the fine art of letter writing, minus the personal marks of handwriting. Telephoning has no tradition prior the Bell’s technology (unless praying to saints counts) and was not an art on which civilization was built. Letters, however, were.

So take your pick or choose them all. You may feel about the written word as I do the telephone. So be it. Writing doesn’t come easily for me simply because I’m a writer. I started writing and became a writer, though I was raised in a family of telephoners. I’ll stick to personal meetings and crafting letters. And when the local college offers a course in “creative telephoning” I’ll sign up. Until then, I’ll screen my calls.

May Bell rest in peace, having died from pernicious anemia at age 80 instead of that ice wagon at age four. I’m thankful for his technology and for the choice to disdain it too.

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Living with Questions – best price for Christmas (book and audio version!)

December 11th, 2009 by Dale Fincher

I thought you’d like to know this!

Yesterday I discovered that Amazon has my book on sale at a bargain price of $1.86 (and it qualifies for free shipping if you have Prime or a $25 order). Get a copy for the students in your life or for people wanting to grow deeper in their faith but don’t know how. These make great stocking stuffers, an extra present under the tree, an easy thing to mail as a gift (media rate mailing is cheap!), or to buy a stack of them to give away or start a small group discussion.

I don’t know why the bargain price, but take advantage while you can!!

If you haven’t discovered or read Living with Questions, it’s one of the best intro to apologetics books you’ll find, easy, accessible, conversational (not the typical abstract stuff that apologetics has become associated with).

And it’s a one-of-a-kind book for students (high school and college) on having the tools to answer today’s hard questions, the kind that keep you awake at night. Gathered from thousands of questions from students across the nation, I put together the seven hottest questions, framed them with stories and a personal conversational style, to equip readers to carry their faith with confidence in the 21st century.

See the comments section for Living with Questions on Amazon too.

Also, if you like audio books, Living with Questions was released as an audio book last month. I narrate the book and bring my own reading style (not your average dead-pan book reading–which usually puts me to sleep). Oh, yes, over 6 hours of fun!

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Story of Surgery – Skin Cancer

December 8th, 2009 by Dale Fincher

In September I went to the dermatologist for a bump under my eyebrow. The visit was as ordinary as the one I made the year before over a similar bump in the same place. That year they blasted it with liquid nitrogen and I was done. A tiny bit grew back. So that was the purpose of this visit–to take off the tiny bump that had grown a little.

Only this time the doctor took a biopsy. Small shot and a cut. As is my usual custom, I had a vasovagal episode: cold sweats, low blood pressure, pale face. The biopsy lasted two minutes. My response lasted another 20.

I was confident the biopsy was just procedural and of no concern. I was convinced of that before I went to the doctor that morning. I was told the results would be available in a week.

Ten days later I got a voicemail that the results were in. I called the doctor but had to leave a message. Two days pass, so I tried calling again. I found out this is the “nurses” line and they are not always available. So I called several times until someone picked up the one.

In a very candid voice, “Oh, yes, your biopsy returned. You have cancer.”

That word “cancer” is like saying AIDS. Everything stood still for me at that word. Yet the word, I’ve learned, is more nuanced than AIDS, applies to different kinds. I asked a couple of questions. I was told I’d undergo a MOHS procedure in early November and that literature was being dropped in the mail for me.

I called back two more times with questions that day. Processing. The kind of skin cancer I had can spread to other organs, I was told, could cause the removal of my eye, could spread to the lungs.

My mother died of breast cancer that went to her lungs. But breast cancer is a different kind of cancer than skin cancer. Yet, still, I started to think about what I was leaving behind should this cancer spread: wife, baby boy, Soulation, too many unwritten words.

One thing that kept coming to mind was my story with fundamentalism… how it had to be written. I didn’t want to die without writing that. People need to know, I thought. People need to know how its poison effects most evangelical churches in various forms. People need to know. Just like people needed to know about the Gulag. If I had a year to live, would I write that?

Funny the things that come to mind if you think you’ve not much time left to live. Reassurance flooded me that human life was good, appropriate human life intended by our Maker, though it’s funny how hard you have to wrestle with humans sometimes to remember and believe it.

I debated finding a doctor that would put me under general anesthetic. I didn’t want a HUGE vasovagal episode during a longer surgery. As I explored, I decided to just do the MOHS and the local anesthetic and listen to the knife and scissors and feel the needles and the cuts. This would be the most dramatic physical manipulation I’ve consciously had. [I was knocked out for my wisdom teeth procedure when I was 21.]

I shared all these fears (confessing of sins?) with my house church. They encouraged and prayed for me. Our Soulation prayer team did the same. Many of my readers knew I was going in for surgery of some kind, though without specifics.

The day came. The waiting room was filled with others getting the same procedure that day. All of them older than I. The doctor said I’m young to have this procedure, but all this Welsch skin in Florida and California sun does not a friendship make. I’ll have regular examinations the rest of my life, the surgeon said, and 50% chance another procedure in the future. We caught it early and the chance of spreading is slim.

That day in the doctor’s chair was miraculous. I don’t use that special word very often. But with prayers and Jonalyn’s sticking with me through the whole procedure, I had no vasovagal response. I was even talking to the doctors as they sewed me up (15 stitches, maybe more). Jonalyn even had to sit down for the sight of my eyebrow flayed open. I kept squeezing her hand through my fears and uneasiness and inviting Jesus to be my peace. The God of Israel held me.

A week later the stitches were removed. Those were a monument of a time God met me and I went through the waters unharmed. I wore them proudly. The scar continues to fade (the doctor said there likely won’t be one when it fully heals). But the memory lives on. Now I have to wear hats in the sunshine… another monument, though less rugged as a scar above the eye. You’ll see more hats in future pictures on our facebook fan page, I’m sure…

That’s the story.

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Pondering Streets of Gold (and an opportunity)

November 3rd, 2009 by Dale Fincher

This is today’s fledge (going out later this morning)… I wanted to give you a sneak peak at pondering beauty in sacred space as well as sharing with you an opporutunity.

Pondering Streets of Gold

[All photos, but the golden driveway, copyright Jeff LeFever]

We rounded the corner of our driveway and caught a rare a glimpse of heaven: a street of gold. Aspen covered the drive, leaving a sheet of yellow. Sunset seemed to emit light from the road as well as from the sky.

We drove slowly over the carpet of leaves, windows down, catching our breath, watching the extravagant show of God littering a world preparing for winter.

These little moments are sacred. They feel set apart, remembered. While some moments call us in whispers to pay attention these extraordinary sights may be missed only by the blind. Yet even the blind may smell it in the air.

The God of Israel described his city as having streets of gold. The shimmer, the opulence, the purity all come to mind. God may be giving us a picture of what sacred space looks like, moments where we have to pause to catch our breath, to relish the visual pleasure, to let the smile freely curl upon our faces.

Beauty does this to us. And while beauty cannot be described as easily as many of our theological doctrines and apologetic arguments, it is as important to our souls as daily bread. It draws us in, slows us down, reminds us that more is going on than meets the eye, and points us in transcendent directions.

Sometimes we merely look at beauty, sometimes we are in it. Sometimes we look at the aspen, like a postcard. Sometimes we are in a forest of them on a hike. Most man-made sacred spaces are created for such an experience. Cathedral domes. Steeples. Gold leaf. Paintings by the masters. Hard stone floors cut from mountains. Light perfectly positioned through impenetrable architecture, depending on the time of day. A place to pray. To kneel. To remember. Outside, the “world.” Inside, something special, deliberate, set apart, beautiful like a street of gold.

Our friend and Soulation teammate, Jeff Lefever, has embodied this to us more than anyone in our lives. He’s concerned we remember sacred space, not only in our churches but in our surrounding culture. He hears the whispers in the beauty of brokenness as he captures people sitting on a curb, a child playing with ice cream, a woman in full Muslim dress walking the beach. He notes graffiti and the ways we express ourselves through retail shop windows. He captures the bones of an abandoned bridge. He reveals the pictures rainbowed in stained-glass. And he brings these things home.

Jeff is currently working on capturing the sacred spaces in many well-known cities. Last winter, he spent several weeks in Prague, which was the third city for his body of work (United States and France were previous). He posted an ongoing blog of his photos and reflections, the disappointment with closed churches, the architecture of people at prayer, the snow falling on once-noticed statues around the city.

We now have four prints from his last trip. One sits above our mantle, reminiscent of the dutch landscape painters, large sky, village below, cathedral dominating the horizon, a farmer harvesting food in the foreground like a biblical parable. Another captures the entry way to the side door of a Jewish synagogue, the edge of the building meeting a leafless tree stretching to the sky as a metaphor of life. While our cathedrals and sacred spaces are decaying and in disrepair, Jeff has brought them home, bottled them in print for us, our generation, for the world. And we’re reminded daily of the God of Israel who comes near to us in beauty, architecture, and the in weighty privilege of prayer.

As our personal photographer, Jeff believes in the work of Soulation like few others. And it is my honor to present his work to you and an opportunity to join in a community of voices that says “Beauty matters! I will relish and defend it for the world!”

You get participate in sending Jeff to Israel this December. As you know, Israel is the hotbed of sacred space, the epicenter of religion and cultural upheaval. Jeff is, in many ways, going behind enemy lines find the sacred among all the violence and show the peace that the God of Israel promised to his people.

We’ll be giving to this project too. This project benefits us by sharing the awareness and experience of sacred space. The more we share them, the more we learn to “see” beauty, the more it helps us and our community to be appropriately human.

The added benefit is choosing a professional print from Jeff that I can put on my walls, to share that story, to draw others into this food for hungry souls. In many ways, Jeff’s photography is an apologetic: showing the world what God is like with pictures, light, and space. Your gift would be a simple way to see a profound thing happen.

People often ask where are the artists today speaking into our culture? They ask, where are the fresh voices our world needs to hear? Jeff Lefever is among those unsung fresh voices. In a world of high-tech fundraising, mega-marketing, and media-hype, where the most “popular” voice gets to be heard over many of the other worthwhile voices, I’m glad to call Jeff a friend. He’s uninterested in collecting money to serve him. He wants a community to help serve the work. He’s interested in taking you along, to find meaning in the mundane and beauty in the brokenness. See his work at www.lefever.com.

Jeff has many other benefits for those who give. Check out his Kickstarter page at www.kickstarter.com and help him reach beyond his goal. And if you want a tax-deductible receipt, you can send your check to Jeff and ask him for one as his work is under a 501(c)(3) non-profit corporation. Write him for more info if you’d like to give that way (lefever@lefever.com).

As we all learn to “see” beauty better in this world, our Streets of Gold moments will grow more numerous and the meaning God has poured into this world more blessed. Our souls will grow sturdier and our commission to shine light into the world more creative.

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What do typical Halloweeners celebrate this time of year?

October 23rd, 2009 by Dale Fincher

This was my question on my facebook wall a couple of days ago. Many responded and one added I should blog on it (Jodi, you know who you are!).

I’m rather perplexed by this “holiday” and have some ideas of my own. But, first, questions for you:

Is Halloween a “satanic” holiday? It its purpose to celebrate death, evil and suffering?
Does the origin of a holiday mean we celebrate it the same way today? Does it matter?
Is Halloween just an excuse to costume ourselves? Is there something wrong with this? Why this holiday?
What’s with all the candy?
What has our culture turned Halloween into that it’s become the second most lucrative holiday of the year? Is this holiday really just a marketing ploy by large corporations?
Do Americans “celebrate” Halloween? Or are we “celebrating” something else that we just happen to call “Halloween”?

Take any or all questions or add your own question… give me your thoughtful ideas as to what’s going on here.

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"Church"? …A Way Forward!

October 9th, 2009 by Dale Fincher

Part 1 of this discussion.
Part 2 of this discussion.

As we continue to discuss “church,” many believe the organized structure we call “church” is lacking. Often, it causes people to feel disenfranchised, floating, and maybe even an outcast. Even people who love Jesus may struggle with the tension between being faithful to Jesus and being faithful to an organized “church” that constantly identifies itself as THE way the people of God commune.

Add to this the further complications of denominations and distinctions of various organizations. Also, the drive to be relevant to a demographic, to market and brand, to be friendly to outsiders, to tailor to families, to hit the general audience of infotainment who are not habituated toward stimulating cultural conversation and intellectual stretching. The mix becomes more complicated and the way forward less clear.

We cannot just wipe the slate clean and start over. The 19^th century proved that becomes a hotbed of cults and strange new “organizations,” usually creating more faction than unity.

However, we can step back and get a bigger picture, allow for the various expressions of the “church” and then give ourselves the freedom to be responsible for ourselves without decrying that some people don’t like “church.” We have to be okay with their leaving the “church” is not a bad thing. If denominations dwindle their influence and power, if fewer “churches” are being planted, we have to be okay with that not being a bad thing. If our friends, family, or children do not want to be affiliated with “church,” we have to be okay with that not being a bad thing.

Where do we step back? Some have spoken for the need to be Scriptural and not just cater to our frustrations. Duly noted. The way forward must coincide with God’s larger story as revealed through Scripture. Some have spoken that we need to be relevant to today’s needs. Also duly noted. The Scripture gives plenty of space for cultural context, not requiring we all wear togas, eat kosher, and quote Plato before we can engage healthy spirituality.

So what is “church”? I raise the question this way because unless we know what we are, we cannot proceed forward. And I think this is part of the identity that has been lost, like the guy who wanted to start a company to make chocolate and got so involved in accounting and marketing he forgot his love for chocolate.

It is important when we look up the meaning of “church” in the Scripture, we don’t just see how Strong’s defines “ekklesia” in Greek. We have to note how this word is used in different contexts. For example, “church” cannot mean the building on the corner when mentioned in Matthew 18 as a place for discipline. There was no “church” of that kind. So we have to wonder at what Jesus is referring to and if the same meaning can be brought forward. Or take Acts 7 when Stephen talks about the people of Israel at Sinai. The KJV actually translates them as the “church” of Israel. Other translations call it the “assembly” of Israel. This also is not the building on the corner as we know it.

“Assembly” is the plain definition of “church.” And, throughout the Scripture, it seems to refer to either a local gathering or the identity of a larger group of people. You might say you have an assembly in Ephesus or an assembly on the earth. The assembly of Ephesus is part of the assembly on earth. When we say “church” it has these different meanings depending on where you stand, though they are tightly connected as a concept for people under the same banner.

Another thing to note about “ekklesia” in the New Testament is how it is used in the Greek Old Testament. In the Old Testament it refers to the “Assembly of Israel.” In fact, the Hebrew word behind “ekklesia” is the word “kahal” which is the “House or Commonwealth of Israel.”

The important link for us to consider (and this is the part that many people refuse to entertain) is that the New Testament was written by Jews who wrote with Hebrew concepts behind their word choices. So when they say “ekklesia,” they are thinking of the same way they use “ekklesia” as Jews. They aren’t creating a new concept. To the New Testament writers, “Ekklesia” is the “House of Israel.” As one Jewish scholar notes, “There is no ‘church’ in the Scripture!” He, of course, means no “church” as we usually define it. The identity of believers of the God of Israel are part of the House of Israel. Read Romans 9-11 and see how Gentiles are grafted into the Jewish story. If we really want to be organic and “big picture” we have to cast our identity in with Israel for there is no other identity for the people of God but through them and their Messiah, Jesus.

Okay, that’s big picture. The “church” wasn’t invented 2000 years ago. It was created and chosen by God. Beginning with Abraham, the nations are being reconciled to God through Abraham’s people and all who will be part of that story.

That big picture, if we really sit in it, will affect everything else we think about theology, our identity, and our purpose. The Catholic Church believed (and still does) that the Jews are replaced by Christians, hence all the Jewish temple imagery imported into cathedrals. The Temple has been rebuilt, complete with sacrifice on the alter at every Mass. The Reformers also carried this idea forward, believing they replaced the Jews. Notice how many reformed theologians and preachers (some of whom are a household name for church-folk) will quote the Old Testament and replace “Israel” with their own view of “church” as inheritors of promise. A variety of Protestant churches still call the front of their church the “alter” and have “alter calls” as the “mercy seat.” This is all Temple talk as if something in our church and our gathering has replaced God’s real Temple and the Jewish people.

I do not believe the Gentile church has replaced the Jews. I think we’re part of them as younger siblings. This is how we are very different from the Abrahamic faith of Islam which continues the replacement tradition, replacing the Jews, then the Christians. Rather, the Christian story is the Jewish story. It’s one story.

If I had one guess why today’s “churches” are covered in criticism, it is because God is moving among us. He’s gently pointing out that our idea of church has missed the larger picture of his work in the world. Until we see Israel as the center people of the story, we will miss what is going on. While this may raise just as many questions as it answers, we have to press forward. The fragmentation of “church” as we know it, may not be a bad thing.

So what about that building on the corner? This has been the larger puzzle for me. I can’t say that I’m totally confident in my view on this yet. I haven’t heard others talk about it, so that always leaves me cautious. However, this won’t be the first time I’ve stumbled on some ideas and found out later that it was a clearer path.

The building on the corner we affectionately call “church” is actually a community center. Just as my little town of Steamboat has a community center, so the “church” in Steamboat has a variety of community centers. These centers have names like “Baptist,” “Methodist,” “Christian” in the titles. But they are not the church. The church is believers in the Messiah of Israel who are part of the House of Israel.

These believers create all sorts of community benefits: community centers (formerly called “churches”), hospitals, universities, shelters, pregnancy care clinics, non-profits, etc. When believers want to create a building in which to meet, that is their choice. The sad part is when people feel guilted into going to the community center every week to be part of “church.”

This is where I differ from many church critics. I do not want us to abolish community centers (formerly called “churches”). If people want to run them as a place to meet others, for non-believers to investigate biblical questions, for weddings and funerals, for therapy, then that is their prerogative. I don’t see any Biblical reason why this should not be so.

Many may agree with this and find this a normal way to think about the building organization. But I invite you to watch your language and see how you speak about the community center. Do you call it the “Lord’s house?” Do you call it the place of worship? Do you speak of going to the center as “going to church”? Are you frustrated when the numbers and down which triggers a feeling that fewer people love God today? These are all evidence that we really have identified the church as the organization on the corner.

I find it interesting when Paul speaks of the church in Ephesus. Think of the House of Israel in Ephesus, the gentiles included. Think of the people assembling together, in homes, or however they gathered to worship and share. While people together will organize, this does not mean people together automatically become an “organization” as we see it today. This wasn’t an organization with large offerings for the local community centers. This wasn’t an organization complete with pastors, elders, deacons in every gathering running the show. Each assembly may well not have had their own elders, as each assembly may not be that large or may have people coming and going to different gatherings around the town.

This may be why many people feeling more connected through their coworkers are their work, through coffee shop conversations, through informal get-togethers with friends. It may be that we are being a community by living in community. The community center called “church” moves away from the center of our attention to the periphery. Just like there is more to Steamboat than our community center, so most of our identity as God’s community needs to take place outside of any community center, indeed, even without one.

So where to the people God gifts with being pastor/teachers, elders, deacons, etc, fit in? I’m still unsure if these are “offices” as we use the term today. They may just be recognized gifted people just as the Jews saw their elders, teachers, and servants (the same titles of appointment are used for those who assisted Moses). They assist the larger church, sitting at the gates with the other Jewish elders, likely going to differing gatherings and participating in a larger community. I believe elders were over the whole city of people, not just over one street corner as we have it today. Notice when Paul commissions the elders of Ephesus in Acts; he doesn’t commission them to their local gatherings but over the “church of God,” the House of Israel in the area. Imagine that being the case today, where elders weren’t limited to a board of directors in a community center, were not “professional” ministers, but were considered watchdogs against abuse and harmful ideas in the larger body.

I can really see how positions of leadership in this kind of setting safeguards against the narcissism we see in many leaders today. They would be recognized by the people rather than appointed by a few. And if people didn’t see them as elders without the qualifications Paul lists in Timothy, then their authority would be unrecognized. It would be the people of the House of Israel who would recognize them, not the institution that put them on payroll.

What about membership? Membership means you’re part of the House of Israel. You can make a membership at the community center, just like you can if you started a Christian Golf Club. But the Scripture doesn’t speak of membership in those terms. It is always being a “member” of the organic body of Israel with the Jewish Messiah as the Head. Many members, one Body, with Jesus as the Head.

What about the disenfranchised people who struggle over leaving their community center and painfully believe they are leaving the “church”? We pray for them. We get involved in their lives. We do not pretend the community center is what unites us. We might even join them as they seek to implement the faith in fresh ways. And we start taking responsibility for ourselves with a bigger picture of who we are as the people of God.

Perhaps this could well answer Christian Smith’s call to adjust “church” for emerging adults, as he talked about in a recent interview.

“Lost in Translation” interview with Christian Smith,

Many churches are set up to cater to married couples with children. This is a well-known fact. And they may try to do something for teens and emerging adults. But trying to be more conscious and intentional about the language they use, the programs they offer, so those who are not married and don’t have children are not sidelined—that’s a start. But it probably will require more creative thinking about context—I don’t even want to say programs—but ways to form communities and places where people can connect and work out common interests beyond the standard worship service and Sunday school.

I like his reference to “context.” Yes, on my view, we need to place our whole paradigm within a different context.

I could be way off. I need to be convinced that I’m not. If this larger vision is what God is up to, reminding his people that they are not disconnected from the House of Israel, preparing the world for Messiah’s return, are we willing to step away from our religious loyalty to the community center and consider the wilder following of the Spirit in the broader House of God? Are we willing to gathering however the Spirit leads us in unity, engaging in spiritual growth, intelligent conversation, prayer, sharing, song, and teaching one another?

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