Not supposed to be here

I've been greatly enjoying the Bible reading plan for slackers & shirkers. I find it gives me time to think about what I read, since I don't rush through each book but still have something to read every day.

A few weeks ago, I read about the Gibeonites, crafty fellows who conned their way into the Israelite community to avoid being destroyed. These were people who weren't supposed to be there. Joshua had orders from God to eliminate the people of Canan---a hotly debated topic that seems tempered by the striking observation that God never seems to condemn the Israelites for letting them live or the Gibeonites for deceiving Joshua.

Granted, Joshua 9:14-15 says that "The Israelites... did not inquire of the LORD. Then Joshua made a treaty of peace with them to let them live." But if this is supposed to be a condemning commentary, it sure is weak (especially given the many scathing indictments of some of Israel's actions).

Also granted, the Gibeonites played a pretty mean trick on Israel. But again, there's not really any condemning commentary on their actions.

In fact, Joshua 21:44 concludes the military campaign with, "The LORD gave them rest on every side according to all He had sworn to their fathers. None of their enemies were able to stand against them, for the LORD handed over all their enemies to them," making it seem like the Gibeonite deception was how God delivered His people from them as an enemy.

Regardless of one's take on how the Gibeonite debacle could have/should have unfolded, the point is that these folks were not supposed to be there. And once they were in the community, they were in. (Consider God's vengeance for the Gibeonites that Saul killed.) They may have spent the rest of their lives feeling like and being treated like outsiders, but they were in.

I think Christian faculty often feel the same way---both in their universities and in their churches (though hopefully none of used any trickery to get here!). We're not "supposed" to be in either place, but we are, because this is where God---just as sovereign as He was over the Gibeonite incident---wants us to be.

Writing Season

("Wighting Season," for Elmer Fudd?)

For me, this semester has been the Semester of the Paper. Not the Semester of One Singular Paper (if only life were that simple, anymore), but the Semester of the Idea of the Paper. I am teaching a Physics Seminar course, with the goal of publishing an article with the students; I have worked on two versions of a paper (one addressed to a research mentor and one written with that mentor as a coauthor) about the same project (whose pilot study I haven't yet finished); I have reviewed a paper (on a completely different type of topic) from a collaborator in another state; I've written & submitted a grant proposal about a third project and am preparing a paper proposal about that same project; and, the Monday after Spring Break, I have to submit an abstract (and oversee a student's abstract) to a summer meeting. If you take a look at my whiteboard at home (well, one of my whiteboards at home), you'll see an even longer list of writing projects for the summer.

It always amazes me how the writing process does not necessarilly mirror the research process. A project that failed miserably at each step and was salvaged at the last minute by switching around research goals can sound like a masterpiece; on the other hand, a project that was well planned, well researched, and conducted exactly as scheduled can still come to a screeching hault at the very end and prove to be unsalvagable and unpublishable.

We as Christians base our faith on the result of many individuals' writing processes; no Christians I know of believe that the Bible's authors were somehow mystically guided through some perfection-inducing trance. It would seem that the biblical authors were very much themselves when they wrote these texts. What was Paul's planning & revision process (either on paper or in his head) like when he wrote his letter to the Romans? (Or, given his predeliction for interrupting himself to venture onto tangents, did he not plan & revise at all?) How often did Luke have to revise his outline & thesis as he interviewed witnesses? What kind of sifting process did Solomon go through to pick out & organize Proverbs?

It's amazing to think that, in all of these different writing styles & personal approaches to writing, God crafted together a set of materials for us to base our faith & lives on.

Expo Pics and the Questions that Matter

The EPA Expo weekend before last went great! We're very proud of our students. You can find pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/110636788435437003869/EPA_EXPO_2010#.

SPOILERS AHEAD!

LOST is quickly drawing to a close. There are three regular episodes left before the two-hour finale. As the title of the show implies (and as conversation with any LOST fan will reveal), LOST is a show that raises many questions. What happened to so-and-so when she disappeared? Why did That Guy kill That Other Guy? What is The Monster? (For those of you who stopped watching mid-stream: No, we still don't know!)

There are perhaps 1,000 little questions that LOST has yet to answer, and many of us are wondering how the writers are going to answer them in only 5 more new hours of programming. I'm beginning to wonder if they intend to answer any of the little questions.

In fact, that seems to be their point as we head toward the finale: Not all questions matter equally. (In fact, one character even explicitly stated this back in Season 4: "Why don't you ask the one question that does matter?") They want us to focus on the big questions, which right now are basically boiled down to: What is the Monster? What is the Island? Who is Jacob?

While this frustrates me as an academic (I should have the ability to find the answer to any question, no matter how obscure!), I wonder if I need to be reminded that this is, in many ways, how God works.

In Scripture, we don't get the answer to every detail-oriented question: How many angles & demons are there? Was John the Baptist really saved before he was born? How old is the universe? What is "gopherwood?"

And from the point of view of the main themes of Scripture (the "Monster," the "Island," and "Jacob," if you will), these questions don't ultimately matter.

And perhaps this is not contrary to an academic mindset. After all, don't we teach our students to pick out the main ideas & themes of a work? Don't we want them to identify and readily employ the primary equations of a section?

Looking forward to May 23!

The Terminology of Talking About Humans

In teaching The Parables of Matthew last Fall, I ran into an interesting question while discussing the two parables found in verses 44-46 of Chapter 13:

The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in the field, which a man found and hid again; and from joy over it he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking fine pearls, and upon finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.

The question comes from the two possible interpretations of these parables.

One interpretation (the standard interpretation) is that the searcher in these verses is Jesus' followers and that the treasure/pearl is Himself. This makes sense, given the suffering that the disciples were beginning to encounter (thereby "selling all that they had).

The second interpretation is that the searcher is Jesus and that the treasure/pearl is His people. This interpretation also makes sense, given that the rest of the parables in Matthew 13 feature Jesus as the active party and His people as the passive recipients.

(Of course, there's no reason they can't both be correct, and one astute member of the class---thanks, John!---noted that, given the wording that follows, "The kingdom of heaven is like," in each parable, one could argue that the first interpretation is true of the first parable, and that the second interpretation is true of the second parable!)

I'll admit, that second interpretation is attractive to me. I like reading about Jesus being the hero in a story, and I like envisioning the lengths to which He went/goes for His people.

But that interpretation does lead to an interesting question: What does it mean, in the second parable, for the pearl to be "of great value?"

Proponents of the first interpretation say that, because of our sin and His self-sufficiency, God has no need of us, and therefore doesn't view us as valuable; Jesus, after all, in John 17, clearly indicates that He is going to the cross because the glory of God & His relationship with the Father is so valuable to Him. One of the key points in the gospel, to them, is the emphasis of the centrality of God in the gospel, and the supremacy of grace and mercy. While these are invaluable points, these folks run the risk of devaluing humans (and sometimes appear quite cantankerous).

Proponents of the second interpretation say that of course humans have value to God because they are created in His image; Jesus, after all, in Matthew 6 assures His disciples not to worry because God considers them valuable. One of the key points in the gospel, to them, is to help other see how valuable they are in the scheme of things, and to inspire them to turn to God to live out their created & redemptive purposes. While these are also invaluable points, these folks run the risk of inflating the value of humans (and sometimes appear no different than the world's self-esteem gurus).

I'm not going to claim to answer this dilemma! However, I think it's important to note that these two camps seem to be attaching a different meaning to the word, "value."

When this debate emerged in my class, I asked the debaters to consider what they meant when they used the term, "value." Did they mean worth? significance? importance? worthiness? worthwhile-ness? loveliness? When we realized we were at a terminology impasse, the debate died down, and everyone seemed to have something new to think about.

I think it's important that we pursue a clear understanding of our terminology when we talk about human beings. We are, after all, finite beings somehow created in the image of God and one of the greatest paradoxes (a la Pascal) in the universe. No wonder it's very easy for our statements about ourselves to be misunderstood!

When have you run into this terminology problem? How can seeking a clear definition of your terms help you understand what truths the Bible claims about humanity? How can seeking a clear definition of your terms help you communicate those truths to others?

Why I Dislike Memorization

One of my favorites aspects of physics is that it requires very little memorization. In fact, if you spend your time in a physics class (intro, upper-level undergraduate, or graduate) memorizing the material, you'll most likely fail the exam. I'm a big fan of open-book open-notes exams because it allows the student to show how well she understands the material---i.e., how closely she has come to personally know, internalize, and relate to it. Learning physics is about personally owning the material, not memorizing facts, numbers, or equations.

Of course, you inevitably come to memorize some things. But even when I recite an equation or derivation from memory, I'm always checking it for reasonableness, making sure the dimensions are correct, and analyzing it to see if there's a better way to express or write it. It's never a rote memorization and regurgitation. That's what makes it beautiful and exciting.

I feel much the same way about memorizing Scripture.

I dislike rotely memorizing verses. Doing so doesn't help me understand them---again, meaning to closely know, internalize, and relate to them. I'd rather personally own the truth, instead of memorizing without understanding.

I think 1 John 2:24 illustrates this contrast well:

See that what you have heard from the beginning remains in you. If it does, you also will remain in the Son and in the Father

John wants the truth of the gospel to remain in them, in the same way that they remain in the Son and in the Father. This is more than memorization of facts and verses---just like us remaining in Jesus is more than Jesus "memorizing" us.

How have you experienced the difference between memorizing and understanding? How do you think we can pursue both to foster our growth as believers?

Clearing up Misconceptions about Fear

I mentioned last time that I wanted to try reading some alternative Christmas texts this December. I started with Isaiah 11, which provides a great description of who Jesus is and what He seeks to accomplish.

I was astonished by how twice it describes Jesus as being characterized by "the fear of the Lord."

This is a phrase that many Christians (present company included) tend to step lightly around and that skeptics love to hate. "How can you have a loving relationship with God," they both ask, "and be afraid of Him?"

It's certainly a difficult question to answer (and not one I'm going to attempt to answer here), but here's the more astonishing fact about this passage: It says that Jesus (God Himself, in human flesh) would have "the fear of the Lord."

If it's difficult for us to explain how we can be called to love and fear God, it's even more difficult for us to begin to fathom how God the Son can perfectly love and fear God the Father!

A couple of thoughts based on this:

First, if we're confused or uncertain about what "the fear of the Lord" looks like (and we very often are), we should look to Jesus. He's our example of everything else that human life should be---why not the fear of the Lord? As a prime example, we can see right away in this text that Jesus "delight[s] in the fear of the Lord."

Second, look at what this attitude of fear toward God (however it is harmonized with everything else in Jesus' divine psyche) produces.

1. Judging the poor with righteousness.
2. Treating victims with fairness.
3. Faithfulness to His people.
4. Peace.
   

Shouldn't these results be appealing to our socially-concerned skeptical friends? Better yet, do we show them this connection between fearing the Lord (something they don't understand or agree with) and caring for the needy and the hurting (something they often think we don't care about) by living it out?

Undergraduate Corner: Some Alternative Christmas Readings

On this blog, the first and third Tuesday of each month are dedicated to presenting discussion geared toward undergraduate students, in a series called, "Undergraduate Corner."

If you're like me, one of the biggest challenges you face as you head into winter break is the familiarity of it. The familiarity can be very comforting---heading home, eating Mom's food, going to church with your parents, hanging your favorite ornament on the tree (if your younger brother hasn't already!)---but it can also be very detrimental.

I've written about this before, but the scenario goes like this: If you're a typical undergraduate who's grown up in the church, you've heard the Christmas story read to you upwards of 100 times now. The wording that Luke and Matthew use roll through your ears without really touching your brain or your heart like a song that was popular ten years ago, especially since your home church's pastor is probably reading from the same version he's read from those other 100 times you've heard it. Before you know it, the beginning of the Spring semester hits, and you haven't really felt spiritually refreshed.

So, here's a challenge both for you and for me: Let's try reading on our own some alternative Christmas-related texts from the Bible this month.

Here are a few suggestions; please add your own in the comments section, and we'll build a list to last us all Christmas!

Isaiah 11

Philippians 2:1-11 (You might even just read the entire chapter!)

1 John 1:1-5 (You might even just read the entire letter!)

Revelation 12

Exodus 29:45-46, Leviticus 26:11-13, Ezekiel 37:24-28, Revelation 21 (Note the similar theme with John 1:14.)

Is service part of our "morality?"

I've been in Matthew 25 a few times in the last couple weeks, having taught out of it in an adult education class at my church last week and hearing my pastor refer to it this past Sunday. In it, Jesus describes how the evidence of saving faith in a person is loving service to others as if they were Jesus, Himself. (Not that the loving service earns their way into God's grace, but that they inevitably engage in loving service because they have received God's grace.)

We often summarize this concept by saying that saving faith leads to obedience, or a godly morality.

But when we think of "morality," aren't we usually concerned with negative concepts, such as sexual purity, or not watching "bad movies," or not associating with "bad company" (which, even Paul affirmed, "corrupts good morals")?

Is loving service part of our "morality?"

Do we see feeding the hungry (literally and figuratively) or tending the sick (again, literally and figuratively) or visiting the lonely as "moral" actions?

After all, in Matthew 25, Jesus doesn't say, "Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For all your friends went to see every Harry Potter movie, and you refused to go."

And isn't this positive morality of service what the world needs to see, far more than our restrictions on ourselves? Isn't this the kind of attitude that makes the difference for a university to be a welcoming place to students (who are very often hungry, sick, and lonely) instead of a standoffish wall of intimidation?

I'm off to Maryland for the American Association of Physics Teachers New Faculty Workshop! See you on Tuesday!

When I have to play the skeptic

I've worn a lot of hats since I joined the faculty at my university: adviser (officially and unofficially), instructor, tech support, committee member (that's at least 4 hats), team coach, author, copy editor, spiritual encourager, substitute instructor, event coordinator... I'll probably think of ten more tomorrow morning.

There's one hat that I've had to wear that I did not expect to. The skeptic hat.

Christian professor aren't supposed to be skeptics, right? We're supposed to defend the underdog faith-based perspectives. We're supposed to encourage wonder and awe at the universe, and point out the flaws of human reasoning. (Okay; so maybe we're supposed to be skeptical about the skeptics, but only to show the limits of skepticism, right?)

But sometimes skepticism is necessary, even for a Christian professor.

An example that often comes to mind is when students in my physics classes try to draw out metaphysical implications of physical laws. This usually happens when we reach Newton's Third Law (N3L), and someone in the class inevitably tries to argue for some version of the concept of karma based on N3L. "For every action you make there's an equal and opposite reaction, so... what goes around comes around, right?"

I tell them that that sounds nice, except that that isn't what N3L says. N3L is a mathematical relationship, and there's no math to karma. (Enter the skeptical argument.) I encourage them that, if they believe in such a concept, N3L is a nice metaphor or picture for the concept. I further encourage them that, if they also believe in a God who oversees this concept, it stands to reason that this God created N3L in such a way as to illustrate this concept. But there's no definitive logical progression that leads one to believe that N3L proves this concept.

So, I play a nice skeptic, but a skeptic nonetheless.

But perhaps I'm more. My desire, after all, is to uphold not only rationality (which the above argument defends) but also the Christian worldview that holds that spiritual matters are illustrated in creation but revealed in God's word.

Pascal said that, ideally, human reason uses rational proof, skepticism, and faith in harmony with each other to reach the truth. When have you had to switch back and forth between these hats?

Justice, kindness, and humility, with a side of academic success

He has told you, O man, what is good;
   and what does the LORD require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
   and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8)

I think about this verse whenever I write my syllabi for the semester, or when students request an extension of a homework deadline, or when I have to respond to an act of academic dishonesty. Managing a course well requires justice, kindness, and humility---and it often feels like pursuing one will obviate another.

It also makes me think of my annual faculty evaluation (and ever-building tenure & promotion evaluation), which has its own triad of requirements: teaching, scholarship, and service (plus the ubiquitous "collegiality" metric). I think that, ultimately, doing justice, loving kindness, and walking in humility are the keys to succeeding at those requirements; in other words, I have an arena in which to pursue the virtues that God wants me to develop, and I'll get good marks from my institution along the way.

A few textual thoughts:

1. I think it's significant that God calls for us to do justice, but love kindness. I think it helps us approach people & situations with the right attitude, and gives us an insight into God's character, as well.
2. Micah doesn't seem to think this triad is very weighty. "What is it that's so hard that God wants you to do?" he seems to be asking. "Why would you not want justice, kindness, and humility?"
3. In the context, Micah has just asked, "How will I come before God [in the temple] and please Him? How can I possibly bring enough to sacrifice [even my own firstborn] to satisfy Him?" Then he answers by describing how he should seek to live these virtues in his life in relationship to others; i.e., it's not how he performs in the worship arena, but in the workaday world and in the community.
   

Undergraduate Corner: Don't Make Jesus a Stranger

On this blog, the first and third Tuesday of each month are dedicated to presenting discussion geared toward undergraduate students, in a series called, "Undergraduate Corner."

You probably saw the title to this blog posting and thought, "Yeah, I know; make sure I keep up my relationship with Jesus while I'm in college." Chances are, if you're reading this post, you are making an effort to keep up your relationship with Jesus while you're in college.

But I mean something else.

I'm referring to the tendency of Christian college students who have a near-insatiable craving to understand their faith better, and who dive deeply into even the most difficult writings of Scripture to better understand what it teaches, and to craft a seamless, clean-cut, unshakable personal statement of faith that summarizes what they believe the Bible says.


Okay, perhaps that last sentence was a little hyperbolic (that's the adjective of "hyperbole," not the mathematical curve), but you get the idea: Christian college students--the ones who grow in their faith during their college years--tend to dive into Scripture more than they ever have before. And it seems like they spend 99% of their Bible study time in Paul's letters.


Again, the 99% figure is a little hyperbolic. But when we're seeking to fine-tune our personal doctrine, we (college student or otherwise) do tend to spend a lot of time in Paul's writings. But that makes sense, right? Paul is certainly the biblical author who speaks most about doctrine and the need for doctrinal correctness. He's also one of the most straightforward authors, keeping his points pretty well-separated and usually saving his application points for when he knows you understand his doctrine; he's even got a few arguments that can stand up against that big scary atheistic professor you've got in class tomorrow.


Except here is the problem: I think that sometimes, we spend so much time and energy reading and understanding Paul, that when we return to the Jesus depicted in the Gospels (who didn't always speak about the need for doctrinal correctness; who didn't always keep His points well-separated; who wove doctrine and application together seamlessly; who spoke in stories instead of sophisticated arguments), He seems like a stranger to us.


Think of it this way: If your church's leadership announced they wanted to hire a new pastor, and invited their top candidate to give a guest sermon, with whom would you be more comfortable? A pastor whose sermon sounds like Paul, or a pastor whose sermon sounds like Jesus?


So, as we dive into Scripture to understand the Christian faith, let's not make Jesus a stranger.


When have you experienced this estrangement from Jesus of Nazereth, the Messiah depicted in the Gospels? How did you overcome it?

What about other authors of Scripture? Whose writings do you feel most uncomfortable reading?


Have you found a balanced way to read the Bible, where every author and every genre seems natural to you?