Superhero Saints

These are some awesome creations. Here is but a sampling:

There are shots of superman, captain america and others. Quite good. Check them out.

Enjoy

--Nick

Dual Impressions, "P.O.D.'s 'Murdered Love'" review

P.O.D.'s new release Murdered Love is both high-powered and controversial. Check out the review that James and myself recorded, and then decide for yourself about the controversy.

Here is a sampling of the lyrics that have gotten such a fierce reaction:

I am the murderer, the pervert, sick to the core, 
I am the unclean dope fiend, I am the whore
I am the forgotten child, ravaged and raped and sex trafficked
Since I’m a little strange Daddy called me a faggot
Are you the one that’s come to set me free?
Cuz if you knew who I am would you really want to die for me?
They say you are the cursed man, the one who hangs from this tree
But I know this is the one and only Son of God, so tell me who the fuck is He?

PS, it is quite good and worthy of discussion.

Murdered Love Review

--Nick

A Theology of Max Payne 3

SPLATTERED PIXELS

There is often so much more to rendered pixels and splattered colors. In finishing the nearly 12 hour campaign, I was struck with so many thoughts and wonders. This won't be a review, though there will be spoilers. However, I am more interested in the narrative and oft potent theological motifs explored in Max Payne 3 and how they relate relevant worldviews and perspectives.

TOTAL DEPRAVITY

In the beginning, there was Jack Daniels. Though similar to Denzel Washington's character in Man On Fire, this drunken and violent loser is far more compelling. The opening, rendered in stunning cinematics and a distraught voice over relays the trajectory for the next 12 hours. 

Simply, Max Payne is the embodiment of the worst we can become. He is not only crawling beneath the bottom of the barrel, he's found a new dimension of sorrow and pain. To many, he is not worth saving and he has little desire to save himself. For him to down painkillers and alcohol, then throw up as if this is normal brings a horrifying concept:

How can you save someone who doesn't want to be saved?

And how does this relate to God, free will, and the terror of the unknown specter of possible damnation and redemption?

In Brazil of his own (free?) choice, Max begins contractual work for a ludicrously wealthy family, swerving on top of the South American food chain. Brazil, as it is presented, reminds of me of the stereotypes of the 80s: coke, whores, and corporate yupsters (a new term?). It is here where the haunted Max actually seems relatively normal. At least, normal enough.

Within the first few minutes, we are treated to a critique of excessive capitalism and a fractured family atmosphere that seems to correlate very well with the United States. Commercialism is seen as god-like and people pursue it past every little thing that would offer true pleasure. It is here where Max Payne is not only alone, but rotting away beneath the floorboards of excess and sadness.

He doesn't want to be saved.

A FLIPSIDE TO NIHILISM & REDEMPTION

After the abduction of his boss's trophy wife, Max goes on a failed rampage, with each passing sequence more personal than the last. Unaware of the cultural shifts and politics, Max blunders headfirst into an already delicate situation (another critique of the United States) and tries to blast his way into saving the woman. 

It is interesting to notice that the further Max gets along in his quest, the more ambiguous he seems to feel about saving himself. At many points, you genuinely wonder if he is actually pursuing redemption and is instead simply hoping for that one lucky bullet to put him out of his misery. In fact, the second option seems far more plausible. 

God is never directly mentioned in the story, but for every lens flare and operatic cut scene, the presence of something is near. The specter of death, as mentioned, is close. However, the dualistic apparition of damnation/redemption is closing in and Max seems to realize this. Yet he continues to track down this woman through airports, train stations, buildings, strip clubs and the favela. 

Why?

He had many chances to drunkenly blast himself away. It seems being of sober mind reduces the suicidal tendencies. Why doesn't he kill himself? It has nothing to do with a God-complex, and the idea soon becomes a little more clear:

He is actually pursuing redemption. He seems his redemption in saving the life of an abducted woman. And this brings me to another idea. We, as people, are often the most staunch believers in our "truths" and often it takes a complete and total paradigm shift in order to shake us from our beliefs. A racist meets a minority that helps him. A drunkard meets his only son for the first time. Max has encountered, in the very essence of his being, the true desire to genuinely save. 

Instead of succumbing to failures, Max continues to press on.

THE THRESHOLD OF BRUTALITY

The concept of redemptive violence and the spilling of blood has it's roots in the political games of old and the myths of the past. In fact, it makes for great and compelling story telling. Who doesn't want to see Neo shoot hundreds of people and Leonidas vanquish his enemies. However, when encountered with villains that feed off the innocent, Max is stricken by revulsion and is actually moved into a greater action. To view true inhumanity should bring about a tidal wave of change. To not only save and punish, but to eradicate. His view of evil shifts from an individual focus to a corporate. Yes, "corporate" functions in a nice way as a double meaning.

And it makes more sense to me that, while I've begun to question the morality of "redemptive violence" (particularly in war), I cannot shake the crucifixion. In fact, the very act of what has reconciled all things is indeed a violent act, a horrific act. In fact, the pierced hands and feet seem to defy such a thing. This gives me great pause. It all comes back to the Christ.

Max Payne, in his campaign to save an innocent woman and to finally restore his honor, is walking right towards his own crucifixion, as if going to the ends of the earth means something now. He is willing to die and a shocking thing happens: while he has a dim view of human nature (particularly his own), he does subscribe a wealth of worth towards the woman and a hint towards himself. If he truly thought anyone else could do a better job, he would stop and return to his addiction. 

But he doesn't. He doesn't even ask for the cup to be pulled away from his lips. He rushes into it with a passionate fury.

If not me, who else?

I do wonder if the Christ wondered such a thing at any point.

CONCLUSION

Max's baptism is in both blood and fire, and as the hero walks away into the sunset, he is still scared and broken and beaten. The sins of the past have the hope of resolution in a future existence, and Max is prepared to face such things once again. In a hopeless place, Max found redemption.

Peter Enns, "The Most Important Chapter in the Entire Bible"

Enns:

Don’t you hate blog posts that start like this, with such an exaggerated claim? So do I.
Oh well.

I could have said this post will make you rich and famous, but I’m holding back. Still, there is one chapter, in the New Testament, that I think is majorly huge–without it Christianity as we know does not exist. And here’s the chapter. Ready?

Acts 10.

Bet you didn’t see that coming. Bet you thought I was going to pick something about Jesus’ birth, crucifixion, or resurrection. But I didn’t, did I?

Without Acts 10, you don’t go to church on Sunday, have summer youth missions trips, hymnals, cathedrals, Vacation Bible School, or Contemporary Christian Music. Heck, since so much of western culture reflects nearly 2000 years of Christian influence (and dominance, for ill and good), you could say that without Acts 10, the west as we know it doesn’t exist.

How is t[h]at? Before Acts 10, followers of Jesus were almost exclusively (maybe entirely) Jewish. From Acts 10 on, Gentiles come pouring in as equal members. So, it’s a big deal.

In Acts 10, the Apostle Peter has a vision of a large sheet being lowered from heaven by its four corners. On that sheet were all sorts of animals considered unclean in Judaism. A voice told Peter to “kill and eat.” Even though Peter was hungry, he said, “By no means, Lord; for I have never eaten anything that is profane or unclean.” Peter was a good Jew who stuck to ancient Jewish law about not eating “unclean” animals.

Peter was also a bit clueless at first about what this vision meant, but he would quickly understand that the ritually unclean animals in the vision symbolized Gentiles. At a time when maintaining ritual purity was a major concern (to distance Judaism from Roman culture), a vision like this was bound to signal a major transition.

No wonder Peter was confused. Why, after all, would God cancel out a law that God himself had commanded the ancient Israelites to keep?

For myself, I don't disagree. I think Peter's realization of the spreading and influence of the resurrection of the crucified God indeed provides a massive paradigm shift. Let's not forget, Peter is concerned about Jewish identify. For the option of salvation to be offered to a gentile, gifted by the Holy Spirit, must've been a massive shock.

Let's not forget, Paul took Peter down a notch in Galatians 2, having "opposed him to his face" and that in spite of this, Peter called all of Paul's letter's "scripture"  in 2 Peter 3 (which I've heard may not have been written by Peter; will investigate). Either way, Peter calling Paul's letters "scripture" seems quite invigorating, considering Paul's letters likely included Galatians.

It seems that Paul gets all the credit for spreading the Gospel to the Gentiles, but Peter's conformation of Cornelius strikes me as something Paul would've loved.

For the rest, click HERE.

--Nick

Chris Date, "Preterism and the Book of Revelation"

Date:

The nature of final punishment is a topic which falls under the theological category of eschatology, the study of last things. Also discussed as part of that category is the timing of the fulfillment of certain biblical prophecies, such as the coming of the Son of Man foretold by Jesus in his Olivet discourse, the nature and activity of the beast of Revelation, and so forth. Perhaps constituting the majority view of the church in America today, futurists believe that most of these prophecies will be fulfilled in our future; preterists like me, on the other hand, believe most of these prophecies—but not all of them¹—were fulfilled in our past, specifically in the first century surrounding the destruction of the Jerusalem temple in A.D. 70. 

As I mentioned in a previous article, there’s a strong argument to be made in favor of conditionalism from the apocalyptic imagery of death and Hades in Revelation chapter 20. This argument carries force regardless of one’s eschatological position concerning the timing of prophetic events, and I will make that argument in the future here at Rethinking Hell. In the meantime, however, because of my interest in this particular eschatological persuasion, I want to reach out to my fellow preterists and make a bold, provocative and controversial statement: You can’t be a consistent preterist unless you’re also a conditionalist. That’s right, I said it. 

If your understanding of the book of Revelation is preteristic but you believe that it supports the traditional view of hell as eternal conscious torment in immortal bodies and souls, you are being inconsistent. I was, too. I have been a preterist for years but I didn’t realize how inconsistent I had been until I was already nearly convinced of conditionalism roughly six months ago. If you are reading this and you are likewise a preterist, my hope is that the camaraderie I share with you will allow me to challenge you to think more deeply about this issue than you may have in the past. 

You likely point to Revelation 20:10 as evidence supporting the traditional view of final punishment, since a few verses later the risen wicked are seen thrown into this lake of fire in which the devil, beast and false prophet are tormented eternally. Chances are that you view the millennium depicted in this chapter as being the present church age, and that you believe the beast is a symbol representing imperial Rome generally, and perhaps Nero Caesar specifically. Yet despite the fact that this beast is seen thrown into the lake of fire at the onset of the millennium, corresponding to events which took place in the first century, I seriously doubt that you believe Nero (or anybody else associated with imperial Rome) is suffering torment right now in resurrected, immortal bodies. If you do not, then you are being inconsistent in your interpretation of the lake of fire imagery. If you do, then you are being inconsistent in other ways, but either way your doctrine is fraught with problems. 

For the rest, and it is worth reading, click HERE.

--Nick

The Old Testament and "Constellational" Truth

Quient:

Sometimes it is difficult to understand exactly what an Old Testament writer is trying to say and at times what is said can seem disconcerting. This is often true when it comes to trying to interpret Old Testament poetry (ex: Psalms). While there are many helpful suggestions that could be shared, I have decided to include here one thing my Hebrew Exegesis teacher Dr. Beitzel said. “When it comes to Hebrew poetry, think constellational truth, not propositional.” Hebrew poetry is made in such a way that you have to connect the individual dots (ideas) before the message or formation emerges. If you try and just read each individual idea on its own, the whole meaning of the piece will elude you.

For the original link, click 

--Nick

Marius Lombaard, "Necessarily Absolute Relativism?"

My good friend from down under (South Africa, I guess) recently wrote a book review and his subsequent thoughts. As usual, his thoughts are irenic and challenging. Marks of a humble soul.

Lombaard:

Sometime during the last year I read a book that was really thought provoking titled: “Truth… & The New Kind Of Christian”.
 
Although the books main subject deals with Postmodern Christianity, specifically the Emerging Church, a book can be written on the subjects of the last few chapters alone.

In this post I won’t go into detail about post-modernity or the emerging church (I might write a detailed book review later though); rather I want to touch base on an interesting distinction that changed the ways I view truth and knowledge.

For most people, the alternative to absolute truths are relative truths. And most average folks will live by one of those standards of truth. You either believe in absolutes, or you believe that everything is relative.

Relativity says: what is right for you, isn’t necessarily right for me and vice-versa. Don’t dare to tell me what I ought to do, because truth is relative, and who are you to dictate what is right or wrong for me? The conclusion is therefore that truth is not absolute, but rather relative to the person.

Absolutes say: there are absolute truths in this world. Doesn’t matter what you say:

• Murder is wrong
• Rape is wrong
• Torturing babies for fun is wrong
• Genocide is wrong
• Slavery is wrong

Therefore the conclusion is that there are absolutes we should all live by. We can’t escape it, it is a fact of life that we all live by absolute truths.

Some people have suggested that the truths we live by are merely how we have evolved and that society has decided what is right and wrong. But if this is true, then we are led to believe that we could have evolved otherwise, and society could have developed and chosen otherwise. That is, it could’ve been decided that murder, rape or genocide is not wrong after all. But that possibility is absurd! A culture or society that believed this would soon exterminate itself and cease to exist and develop, since it’s people would be justified in their emotions and anger to murder each other for the silliest things that so easily and frequently kindles our anger.

So it is at least clear that there are at least some absolutes we all live by. But I want to introduce a third possibility: objective truths. What are objective truths? How does it differ from absolute truths?

In “Truth… & The New Kind Of Christian”, Smith looks at four properties of truths to see in what ways they are the same, and in what ways they differ:

For Smith's and Lombaard's thoughts, continue HERE.

--Nick

Micah Murray, "Jesus, Religion and Relationship"

 My friend Micah recently wrote this post on his blog Redemption Pictures and I found it quite lucid and compelling; traits I've come to expect from Micah. Quite good. Check it out.

Micah:

You’ve heard it before. It tops the list of “Stuff Christians Say”. I know I’ve said it.

But it’s not true.

The intention is honorable enough; we want to differentiate Christianity from other belief systems. We’re trying to express the fundamental difference between our faith and other faiths; that is, the unmerited offer of free Salvation offered through Jesus Christ.

Perhaps we’re also trying to separate ourselves from some of the negative associations one may have with “religion” – narrow-mindedness, hypocrisy, historical persecution of “heretics”, etc. However, the “relationship, not religion” phrase doesn’t really work. It either sets up a false expectation for the reality of following Jesus, or it is quickly discounted (for good reason) and we lose credibility.

Yes, Christianity is a relationship. But there is more to it than that. Because no sooner does one begin that relationship than they are encouraged to get baptized, take communion, read their Bible daily, and attend church. These are not elements of any other relationship. They are unique. Yes, they are relational in nature, but there is also an element of tradition, of ritual, of spiritual discipline.  If someone is told that Christianity is ONLY a relationship and is not at all a religion, they will find themselves sorely disillusioned when faced with the plethora of religious elements that are a part of expressing that relationship in a community of believers. It’s a bait-n-switch. If you say “It’s a relationship, not a religion”, then you should forfeit the right to use any of these phrases in the future: systematic theology, church attendance, spiritual growth, discipline, devotions, sound doctrine.

The second reason we should avoid the catchy “relationship not religion” phrase is because we aren’t fooling anyone. We may think we are helping look God look good to “nonbelievers” by distancing Him from all the negative connotations of religion. But really, we are lying.  In conversation with those around us, we are not allowed to make up new definitions for words. We can’t redefine religion as “trying to earn God’s favor”. Because if we are engaging in a public discourse, the words we use must carry the meanings assigned to them by the public.

And the definition of “religion” is:

“a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.” (dictionary.com)

I've said the same thing as well, particularly when trying to counsel friends. For the most part, people nod and simply accept it. But I did have a friend who looked at me and almost laughed in my face. He asked me, "why do we separate such things?"

I didn't have an answer. I wondered if it was cultural, or the hip thing to do. It might be. But I wonder if it is our way of individualizing our subculture to bring about credibility. Spiritual, not religious.

Stuff to think about.

For the rest of Micah's post, enjoy it here.

--Nick