Monthly Archives: April 2014

Explaining Stage Fright

In Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking, Susan Cain has an interesting discussion of stage fright, noting that “public speaking is the number-one fear in America, far more common than the fear of death.”

I’m terrified pretty much every time I speak in front of other people, so this makes perfect sense to me.

In fact, public speaking anxiety may be primal and quintessentially human, not limited to those of us born with a high-reactive nervous system. One theory, based on the writings of the sociobiologist E. O. Wilson, holds that when our ancestors lived on the savannah, being watched intently meant only one thing: a wild animal was stalking us. And when we think we’re about to be eaten, do we stand tall and hold forth confidently? No. We run. In other words, hundreds of thousands of years of evolution urge us to get off the stage, where we can mistake the gaze of the spectators for the glint in a predator’s eye. Yet the audience expects not only that we’ll stay put, but that we’ll act relaxed and assured. This conflict between biology and protocol is one reason that speechmaking can be so fraught. It’s also why exhortations to imagine the audience in the nude don’t help nervous speakers; naked lions are just as dangerous as elegantly dressed ones (pp. 107-8).

An audience as a pack of predators — makes even more sense!

Paul the Pastoral Theologian

I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately about Paul as a pastoral theologian (or, as a theologically-oriented pastor). I was struck by, and had to re-read a few times, this wonderful closing passage to Part 2 of N. T. Wright’s Paul and the Faithfulness of God:

So when people say, as they often do, that Paul ‘was not a systematic theologian’, meaning that ‘Paul didn’t write a medieval Summa Theologica or a book that corresponds to Calvin’s Institutes,’ we will want to say: Fair enough. So far as we know, he didn’t. But the statement is often taken to mean that Paul was therefore just a jumbled, rambling sort of thinker, who would grab odd ideas out of the assortment of junk in his mental cupboard and throw them roughly in the direction of the problems presented to him by his beloved and frustrating ekklsiai. And that is simply nonsense. The more time we spend in the careful reading of Paul, and in the study of his worldview, his theology and his aims and intentions, the more he emerges as a deeply coherent thinker. His main themes may well not fit the boxes constructed by later Christian dogmatics of whatever type. They generate their own categories, precisely as they are transforming the ancient Jewish ones, which are often sadly neglected in later Christian dogmatics. They emerge, whole and entire, thought through with a rigour which those who criticize Paul today (and those who claim to follow him, too!) would do well to match.

What is more, the reason Paul was ‘doing theology’ was not that he happened to have the kind of brain that delighted in playing with and rearranging large, complex abstract ideas. He was doing theology because the life of God’s people depended on it, depended on his doing it initially for them, then as soon as possible with them, and then on them being able to go on doing it for themselves. All Paul’s theology is thus pastoral theology, not inthe sense of an unsystematic therapeutic model which concentrates on meeting the felt needs of the ‘client’, but in the sense that the shepherd needs to feed the flock with clean food and water, and keep a sharp eye out for wolves. For that, pastoral theology needs to be crystal clear, thought out and presented in a way that teaches others to think as well. That, too, is part of the point: Christian theology, for Paul, was not just about what you know, but about how you know. And, just as the Christian worldview compels people to think in a new way, because otherwise the worldview itself is unstable, so Christian theology remains both a corporate task, one in which the church as a whole has to engage, rather than being spoon-fed by one or two high- octane teachers, and also an incomplete task, because each generation needs to become mature in its thinking, which wouldn’t happen if Paul, Athanasius, Aquinas, Luther, Barth or anyone else had closed off the questions with answers that could then simply be looked up. The ‘authority’ of Paul did not consist in his providing lots of correct answers to puzzling questions. That would have left his converts, and subsequent generations, with no work to do on the questions he had answered, and no starting-point for the ones he didn’t. They would have remained radically and residually immature. Give someone a thought, and you help them for a day; teach someone to think, and you transform them for life. Paul’s authority consisted in his setting up a particular framework and posing a specific challenge. Living as Messiah-people demanded, he would have said, that people work within that framework and wrestle with that challenge (PFG, 568-69).

Conceiving Christian Identity

Over the last few days I’ve been reflecting a bit on the character of Christian identity with reference to its corporate and individual dimensions. After introducing it in class a few times, I’ve been struck by some of the questions I’ve encountered.

As I indicated previously, students from communal cultures (e.g., parts of Africa, Asia, S. America) think this is normal, whereas N. American students are often discomfited, casting about anxiously to establish some place for the individual.

I’ve often wondered about what motivates some of these questions. Is it that our imaginations have been so thoroughly shaped by Western individualism that we want to have full and sole control over future possibilities? Is it that notions of “freedom” as the absence of coercion create in us discomfort when the realization dawns that we belong to and are obligated to others?

Getting under the skin of our deeply embedded individualism reveals impulses, inclinations, habits of thought, and modes of imagining and longing that need to be identified and refined in the light of Scripture.

At any rate, here are a few (still-in-process) thoughts about Christian identity:

First, Christian identity is neither communal at the expense of the individual, nor individual at the expense of the community.

Second, it may be most helpful to think in terms of “individuals-in-community.” Many acknowledge that communities are indeed made up of individuals, but it’s equally important to note that individuals have their identity as part of the Christian community. We are who we are in relation.

Third, dynamics of renewal do not work exclusively from individual-to-community, or exclusively from community-to-individual. Both dimensions are at work. Paul assures the Philippian church that God, who has begun a good work among them will bring it to completion (Phil. 1:6). He informs the Corinthian church that they are the temple of God’s Spirit, who dwells among them (1 Cor. 3:16). In much of that letter, Paul appeals to them to forego their individual rights and privileges (even to be wronged!) for the sake of the church. Attempting to resolve the conflict between Philemon and Onesimus, Paul addresses the whole church (Phmn 1-2).

One could easily argue that for Paul, the Spirit’s work is primarily corporate, identity is fundamentally corporate, and that the dynamics of renewal work from communal-to-individual. It seems, however, that the wider witness of Scripture indicates that both dynamics are at work and that they sometimes work in this direction, and at other times, in that direction.

In Revelation 2-3, the exalted Lord Jesus rebukes and comforts churches, but also confronts individuals in need of repentance. In fact, it’s interesting to see the interplay of corporate and individual dynamics in the messages to the churches, though there again, one wonders if some of the individual notes (i.e., the promises to “the one who conquers”) are directed at whole churches to persevere.

All of this is to say that for Westerners in general and for Americans in particular, faithfully grasping the contours of the Christian faith is no straightforward enterprise. We tend to think of salvation as the order of events that happen to me rather than my participation – along with a redeemed community — in God’s movement to reclaim creation for the glory of his name.

Corporate & Individual Christian Identity, Pt. 2

Yesterday I reproduced a blog post I wrote a few years ago about the first audience(s) of the New Testament. The recipients of NT letters were communities and not individuals (even in the case of Paul’s letter to Philemon!). I brought this up in order to generate some discussion and to clarify my own thoughts about individual and communal Christian identity.

Further, I’ve been puzzled by certain responses I’ve encountered when I’ve presented this material in class. For the most part, when I bring this up, students nod their heads as if I’m only saying that our culture is too individualistic (which most people affirm) and that the church is really important (who would disagree?).

But I’ve pressed the issue further, indicating that the communal dimension of things in the NT is more fundamental than that. I’m not simply saying that the church is important, but that the basic conception of being Christian is a communally-shaped and communally-oriented endeavor. It’s not that the church is the collection of all the people who are being Christian. Christian existence is participation in the body of Christ – the church – into which we are baptized and apart from which Christian discipleship does not exist. How we think about our identity must reflect that reality.

Now, to my point. Having discussed this in the past, I’ve been reflecting more recently on a question I’ve encountered occasionally. I’ve been asked, “well, what about the individual? Are we running the risk of losing sight of the individual in light of the community?”

My question is this: Where does that question come from? Is it coming from our individualized culture? Or, is it coming from the need to keep things in biblical balance?

If it is the case that Paul addressed his letters to churches, that there is almost no command that anyone can fulfill in the NT letters without being in community, that we are baptized into the body of Christ (and this occurs simultaneously to being united to God in Christ) – if all of these things are true, why is it that when someone highlights the corporate dimension of the Christian faith there is pushback about not leaving behind the individual dimension of things? Is that because we should be careful to also keep in mind the individualized aspects of Christian faith?

Or, is it that our lifelong discipleship in Western thought-forms and modes of life are being threatened and we haven’t yet become comfortable thinking in biblically-shaped categories?

Here’s a related question: When the Bible is read in cultures where identity is shaped communally, where they celebrate the faith and conceive of life corporately, when they hear the Bible read, does anyone stand up and ask, “hey, what about the individual?”

To this point I’m only stirring the pot and generating some discussion (thanks, by the way, to those who have responded!). I’m still chewing on this and will likely roll out some provisional thoughts over the next few days.

Corporate vs. Individual Christian Identity

I’ve had a number of discussions recently about the differences between modern and first-century conceptions of being Christian. The paragraphs below represent what I’ve taught in classes on the NT. How do these thoughts strike you?

The documents of the NT, with a few exceptions, are addressed to communities and not to individuals.  Many of us know this and it may not be too shocking, but the significances of this reality must continue to transform how we envision Christian identity.

Nobody in the first century had a Bible.  Most people in the first few Christian generations were illiterate and couldn’t have read their Bibles even if they had them.  When Scripture was read, it was read to communities who listened to it.  When NT letters were circulated and read, they were read aloud by individuals to communities.

Consider just one significant aspect of this.  When communities heard, “Jesus said, ‘I say this to you…’,” groups of Jesus-followers gathered together looked around at each other and thought, “he’s saying that to usWe need to…”  After hearing the Scriptures, they would begin to ask each other, “how are we going to follow these words of Jesus?  What do you think we ought to do in light of what Jesus said?”

They did not conceive of being Christian as something that they did on their own when they left the church gathering.  They did not consider their Christian discipleship as something separable from the community.

If a group heard someone read, “a new command I give to you, that you love one another,” two or three people who were involved in conflict would glance at each other, knowing that Jesus was commanding them to reconcile.  Two more people would look on, knowing the situation, committing to be part of a reconciling effort.

American evangelical Christian identity is completely shaped by individualism for a variety of really fascinating historical and cultural reasons.  I’ve discovered that it’s almost impossible to pull people out of the mindset that considers the Bible as “God’s love letter to me.”

How do these thoughts strike you? Do they seem to wrongly marginalize the individual? Does it appear that a corporate conception of Christian identity is nearly impossible to imagine? What objections could you anticipate from others?

The Tyranny of Convenience

In a recent class, we discussed how the modern value of convenience works against the cultivation of rich community life in churches. We are rushed and hurried, and the frantic and harried pace of life shapes us in such ways that we see occasions where we can linger with one another as “wasted time.” We’re not accomplishing anything! We can do this more conveniently!

I was struck by the following passage in Michael Moss’s book, Salt Sugar Fat: How the Food Giants Hooked Us, a fascinating look at the processed food industry. It reveals just one way in which convenience as an obvious value of modern life was reinforced by advertising over the last half-century.

Every year in New York City, the top executives of companies that sold a wide range of goods gathered together under the auspices of the Conference Board, an august association best known today for conducting the “consumer confidence” survey. In 1955, the dinner speaker was Charles Mortimer, and he got right to the point. Food, clothing, and shelter were still important, he told the crowd. But now there was a fourth essential element of life that could be “expressed in a single word—convenience—spelled out with a capital ‘C.’”

“Convenience is the great additive which must be designed, built in, combined, blended, interwoven, injected, inserted, or otherwise added to or incorporated in products or services if they are to satisfy today’s demanding public. It is the new and controlling denominator of consumer acceptance or demand.”

There is convenience of form, he said, citing the Gaines-Burger dog food patties that Clausi had invented to be as soft as hamburger but so durable that they could sit on the pantry shelf until needed. There is convenience of time, like the grocery stores throughout American that were starting to stay open in the evenings to accommodate increasing numbers of women who worked outside the home. And there is convenience of packaging, like beer in bottles that used to have to be hauled back to the store but were now disposable, and aluminum foil pie pans that were showing up on the grocery shelves.

The original 50s TV dinner

Photograph: William Gottlieb/Corbis

“Modern Americans are willing to pay well for this additive to the products they purchase,” Mortimer told the executives. “Not because of any native laziness but because we are willing to use our greater wealth to buy fuller lives and we have, therefore, better things to do with our time than mixing, blending, sorting, trimming, measuring, cooking, serving, and all the other actions that have gone into the routine of living.”

As if on cue, time-saving gadgets and gizmos started arriving in the grocery store that year that helped the modern homemaker trade a little more of her new wealth for some extra time away from the kitchen. Ready-to-bake biscuits appeared in tubes that could be opened by merely tugging a string. Special detergents came out for electric dishwashers that had special compounds to get off the water spots. One entrepreneurial firm even made plastic lids with spouts that snapped on cans of milk or syrup for easier pouring (pp. 60-61).

What I find so sinister about convenience is that it is in the midst of “all the other actions that have gone into the routine of living” that we often find rich fellowship with one another and mutual sharing. And with the systematic elimination of such moments from our lives, we’ve inadvertently lost opportunities to cultivate and strengthen bonds of friendship and community, both in families and in churches.

The Beauty of Holy Week

This past Sunday Stephen Holmgren focused our attention on “Christ Carrying the Cross,” by Hieronymus Bosch (1515).


It’s an arrestingly beautiful work, and it’s been the occasion for much reflection over the past week. An excerpt from Stephen’s sermon:

With sustained attention to the composition of the painting you will notice a significant detail. The faces of seventeen people appear in the painting, not counting Jesus nor his image on the legendary Veronica’s towel. Seventeen people who are part of the crowd, and not one of them is looking at Jesus! Not even the man with the orange hat in the left center of the painting. Though he is facing Jesus, his eyes are turned upward toward the man with whom he is apparently talking. A crowd full of agitated people, with Jesus in the middle, and not one of them is focused on him. In other words, all of them are focused on their own concerns and purposes. Though Jesus came into a world so in need of him, and into a city filled with human problems, the people around him are heedless to his significance. And yet, for them, for those who are happy to push him to his death, he will carry his cross.

See here for the entire Palm Sunday sermon, and here for his blog post.

N. T. Wright, Evangelicals, and Tradition

Christianity Today’s recent cover story about N. T. Wright discusses both his broader contribution to the church and his most recent book, Paul and the Faithfulness of God.

One particular line in the article struck me, because it reflects a sentiment among evangelical critics of Wright that I find troubling.

Wright’s opponents ask, wisely: Did the Holy Spirit really let the Western church run entirely amok from the day Paul died until the day Wright took up his pen?

Now, Wright does indeed say things in such a way that “no one has ever seen this or said this before,” but it’s often the case that he’s truly bringing to light a neglected theme. Further, this is just good public speaking, reflecting his challenging of a dominant interpretation.


Photo Credit: Sophie Gerrard

It seems to me, however, that it is inappropriate for evangelicals to register this objection to Wright’s work (or, to anyone’s, for that matter).

It is part and parcel of evangelical identity to question received wisdom, tradition, and practice. We have no creed but the Bible and we question everything on the basis of further study of Scripture.

We quote constantly Luke’s commendation of the Berean Jews who “were of more noble character than those in Thessalonica, for they received the message with great eagerness and examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true” (Acts 17:11).

Our history reaches back to the reformers, who challenged corrupted church practice and its theological underpinnings. It includes the radical reformers, who continued to press the issue when the reformers didn’t reform enough. More recently, American evangelicals left institutions and denominations they viewed as corrupt.

Because of this history, it seems hypocritical to me for a movement that has challenged at every turn the received wisdom of the Western church to ask the question: “Did the Holy Spirit really let the Western church run entirely amok from the day Paul died until the day Wright took up his pen?

Further, it is naïve. Many of the theological and biblical issues treated by Wright, including justification by faith, imputation, Paul and the Mosaic Law, have been abiding difficulties for scholars. And there are fundamental disagreements over these issues among traditions in the Western church.

Lutherans and Calvinists differ over the relationship of the Law and the Gospel. I first learned about eschatological aspects of justification from good Calvinists, not from N. T. Wright. And when I found out that Wright didn’t affirm imputation as “righteousness transfer,” I shrugged. I had already changed my view on this after a Reformed friend who was also a good evangelical challenged me to find it in the Bible (Hint: it isn’t there).

This is just to say that I find it incomprehensible when evangelicals render this sort of objection.

After forging a history of questioning the received wisdom of the Western church, it is tragically ironic that evangelicals turn to Wright and ask how he can possibly question the received wisdom of the Western church.

Paul’s Big Story

One of N. T. Wright’s most significant contributions is situating Paul (and the rest of the NT writers, for that matter) within the larger narrative framework of Scripture.

Many Western Christians read their Bibles in terms of the larger interpretive framework of “my relationship with God” — I was previously a sinner; I’m now saved; and the Bible is “about” how I can grow in my relationship with God.

This sort of assumed posture toward Scripture gets some things right, but is too individually-focused and mistakes one aspect (a vital one) of what Scripture is all about for the larger, all-encompassing story. According to Wright, in Paul and the Faithfulness of God:

One regularly hears it said, or sees it written, that the implicit story goes like this:

1. Humans are made for fellowship with God;

2. Humans sin and refuse God’s love;

3. God acts to restore humans to a ‘right relationship’ with himself.

This drastic truncation of Paul’s narrative world – sometimes, indeed, supposed to be the sum total of Paul’s gospel! – then results in many puzzles which western theology has struggled unsuccessfully to solve, and many slippery arguments in which the idea of a ‘relationship’ can at one moment be almost forensic (the ‘relation’ in which the accused stands to the court) and at another almost familial (the ‘relationship’ between a parent and child). Please note, I am not saying that Paul is not concerned either with the ‘forensic’ situation or the ‘familial’. He is. Both of them are important. But all in their proper time. These problems are soluble if and only if we allow the main sub-plot, the story of God and humans, to be seen in its proper relation to the larger plot, the story of creation.

For Wright, the story of humankind, its plight and rescue, is often wrongly taken for the main plot. It’s important to recognize that this is only a sub-plot, part of a larger narrative. He summarizes this narrative as follows:

1. The creator’s intention was to bring fruitful order to the world through his image-bearing human creatures.

2. Humans fail to reflect God’s image into the world, and the world in consequence fails to attain its fruitful order; the result, instead, is corruption and decay.

3. God intends to restore humankind to its proper place, resulting in the rescue and restoration of creation itself (PFG, 489-90).

As Wright says elsewhere, in Justification: God’s Plan and Paul’s Vision, this re-reading of Paul requires a Copernican revolution in thinking about the Christian story within which Paul writes, a transformation of thought and imagination, a cultivation of a totally new, biblically-oriented vocabulary.

There’s so much to say about this — goodness, PFG is massive enough! — but Western Christians would do well to grapple with what Scripture is about in order to rightly situate their lives within the larger story of God’s redemptive pursuit of all things.