Christians and the Identification of God

As the title may indicate, I spent a lot of time on my honeymoon reading. And doing other unimportant stuff. Mostly what I read was a book on Paul by Jerome Murphy-O'Connor and Jurgen Moltmann's The Crucified God. My wife compromised on the amount of literature I was allowed to bring, and believe me, choosing just two texts was like pulling several teeth.

But I digress.

Moltmann sees all Christian theology as attempting to answer why Jesus asked "my God my God why have you forsaken me?" He sees it as a glimpse into the nature of God, but also whether or not this proclamation is the end or the beginning.

Theodicy is a powerful fan of flame. It begins and spirals amidst abstractions and climaxes in a broad sense of physical -- even existential -- suffering. One's identity may be forged in the triumphs of life, but most people remember such wonderful experiences as they were: in times of being lost or forsaken. A theology without faith is a computer without a battery. One tug on the power supply and everything simply shuts down. Foundationally, when there is no such thing, it becomes a black hole.

Theology (or dogmatics) is an act of faith. According to Karl Barth, "Faith is the determination of human action by the being of the Church and therefore by Jesus Christ, by the gracious address of God to man. The summation of determination is bound up in the character of grace. Barth's point is a potent one, but Moltmann seems to see it as insufficient.

For Moltmann, suffering as a prison of war, suffering was as in your face as such a thing could be. Faith was forsaken as there was nothing there to retain. This, however, changes when a nailed forsaken Messiah is shown in his brokenness.

Identity is bound up, most often, in suffering and in trials. The mysticism of suffering is compared with other sufferings. Moltmann suggests, as did several in his prison camp, that Jesus found him in his suffering. It becomes not only a tangible reality to witness parallel suffering when one is stricken by man, but it also brings forth empathy and a genuine response; whether of anger or compassion.

In my experience, I haven't suffered in comparison to many people. I haven't had my finger nails removed by pliers, nor have I ever had boiling oil poured down my throat. Suffering has a sense of putting one in their place, but it also shifts focus to what really matters.

The brother and sister that feels forsaken. When the crucified God was hanging there, his cry of loneliness is a cry that everyone who has suffered is able to picture with ultimate clarity. God gave of himself to exemplify how God is for us and with us. When suffering is found, identity is not far behind.

When you identify with the crucified God, you identify with everyone else who has suffered. Empathy seems to be the slope towards reconciliation at that point, abstraction be damned. A world without suffering would befit only the eschaton. A world that is presently suffering showcases the need for such an end, an end to death, an end to suffering, an end to the forging of identity within pain and evil.

Thankfully, one hopes, the formation of identity within God and us doesn't cease upon the forsaken breath in our chests. Hopefully, with universal pleas, it begins thus.

Just some mere thoughts.

--Nick

Wrath of God

At what point does suffering become too much?

There are times when I've become intrigued by the idea, especially lately, that the wrath of God can be conflated to many different ideas. When one thinks mostly in terms of a wrathful God, it makes sense that they follow in the direction of differing theologies. I get that.

And, on the flipside, thinking about God's love can often lead one to a fluffy dimension where rainbows are edible and everything is made of chocolate.

And there are some of us, like myself, that are constantly trying to find the middle ground between two extremes. The worst part is sometimes one of those extremes is right.

But, to bring this back I've reflecting specifically on the wrath of God as a Biblical notion. I'm not going to write about any specific instance, instead I'm going to meander about the theme for a while. There is certainly a theme through the Bible about this, though often it seems it seems directed at the act of sinning or at the injustice at the expense of the innocent.

The very idea that God had to punish something never quite sat well with me, particularly as a child. Though I've (mostly) grown out of that phase, some elements in Scripture seem far more clear about the future.

Namely God's completed victory over sin and death. Interestingly, thinking about God's wrath didn't push me to adopt any new way of thinking. Instead, it was based on the ideas present and extrapolating them a bit. A sacrifice to God including the notion of penal substitution is in Scripture. There are definitive seeds in there which people can farm from. The way we view God's wrath (and His "targets") is the way we view God as who He is.

However, Scripture seems far more clear that Christ's victory (both in love and in submission) broke open the system and exposed it as corrupt. God's wrath, viewed through this prism, seems far more plausible and more consistent with the meta-narrative of Scripture.

So, the wrath of God, which causes many to struggle and some to (understandably) search for alternative methods (many of which I found lacking), is actually what brought me back to some interesting views of atonement, God's character and the annihilation of sin and death.

Maybe the wrath of God isn't such a bad thing when viewed through a redemptive lens. If one thinks about God's wrath as against injustice (or as being "for our benefit"), then God's wrath becomes far more interesting than what we've made it out to be. The crucifixion is justice.

So, in my eyes and within the parameters of this rambling post, the point of suffering becomes far more integrated with atonement theory and the character of God. Of course there are different kinds of suffering, but I will leave that for another time.

For a defense of atonement that I wrote, please check out Christus Victor, a brief defense

--Nick

God Proof 151

The scariest and most sublime attribute of my job is to know customers on a first-name basis. Forgive me. Where are my story manners? First, back story.

I snapped this picture while out at Trinity visiting Allison. I do not know who the artist is, but they struck a profound chord in me.

I work at a place that sells alcohol. I feel like I should stand up and face the small little circle of alcoholics I put in this tiny space. I generally don't have an issue with selling alcohol to responsible adults. The libertarian streak I nursed while in college keeps trying to cool my conscience on this one.

But I'm not so certain anymore.

Part of me wants to chalk this up to libertarian freedom, both social and spiritual. I didn't force these people to put down money on my counter to buy their artificially colored caramelized concoction.

But that doesn't cool me.

The other part of me does, in some twisted way, wonder if these people may deserve it. I mean, most are quick to point a finger in a junkie's face and say that fateful idiom, "this is your own damn fault." And they are right.

All of this is our fault.

But that doesn't cool me either.

So what is truly bothering me about knowing alcoholics on a first name basis? I think what it boils down to is the simple concept of suffering and indulgence. In some ways, I wonder if souls feel the need to seek and absorb conflict so they feel justified in indulgence. I do think some create suffering, or their own personal hells, just so they can seek absolution in the hooked end of a bottle.

At the same time, I have never felt so sorry for so many people before. Never had I wanted to ask a genuine stranger a question about himself, but I'm terrified. I'm absolutely terrified of asking a stranger about their problems, because I don't know if I'm strong enough to hear their answer.

I mean, pass by someone in the market and say hello and ask them how they are doing. 95% of them will either ignore you, or say hello and move on down the cereal aisle. I've rarely had someone turn, answer in the affirmative and then ask me how I'm doing. Those that did turned out to be some pretty great people. One of them I plan on marrying someday.

Anyway.

Allow me a personal example. A regular came in to buy his usual bottles. I paused, addressed him by his first name and asked him how he was doing. He grunted and tried to pay. I asked him again. He said he was tired. I asked him why. He looked up at me, jaw set, sweating like it was a furnace in the 70 degree store.

Then the damnedest thing happened. He answered. He told me that he had spent the weekend setting up this romantic juncture for his wife involving rose petals, lotion and a three hour long wallop session. I'll spare you the grisly details because they aren't important, and thank Jesus I've forgotten half of them.

But what really struck me was that he clearly loved his wife, and yet was here buying more. Like nothing changed. Like the romantic gesture was foreplay to this. I imagined him being alone without her, and where he life could've been. I watched him walk all the way to his car and drive away.

The libertarian streak tried to cajole me into ignoring it. I couldn't. The rest of me pleaded, saying he deserved it and brought it upon himself. I agreed. But agreeing with something doesn't make the empathy go away.

Something tells me that the One who transcends and offers so much for so little isn't interested in dethroning empathy, a most remarkable trait.

So who do we blame? We love to blame those in silver towers for the injustices done to those in other parts of the world. We love to blame leaders who are secretly fighting other leaders for not being good leaders. We love to blame addicts for being addicts, and lobbyists for being lobbyists. We love to blame everyone for everything that happens to everyone.

What do we do with people are drinking their way into destruction, who lie, who hate, who blaspheme, who are damned?

We can't throw them away, they are already in the waste basket.

And it doesn't take too much speculation to know Who is in there with them.

--Nick