"Top ten things I hate about election time," revisited four years later

Four years ago, I generated a pretty feisty discussion with a Facebook note, "Top ten things I hate about election time - #1". This note was the culmination of a series of notes decrying the unfortunate aspects of national elections in the USA. Some items on my list were funny, some were serious, some were simply gripes. But each was born out of my genuinely held feelings, opinions, and experiences.

The final item on the list, "Christians telling other Christians how they have to vote," generated the most controversy among my friends and family, even garnering comments from people I had never met. (Apparently, notes defaulted to "global" sharing back then.) To summarize the arguments of those I had offended, I had to make the abortion issue my number one political priority, as a Christian.

This argument took me by surprise. I had not mentioned abortion (in any light or from any perspective), nor did I even refer to any particular candidate who was up for election (such as, I don't know, the big one). Regardless, though, everyone assumed I was referring to the Christian right's then-ubiquitous campaign against abortion in the context of choosing a President.

I actually had in mind the now-all-but-forgotten Florida Marriage Amendment, which was being supported vocally on Sunday morning by the leaders of the church of which I was a member at the time.

Much has changed in the last four years:

1. I am no longer a member of that church (their attempt at polarizing their congregants' votes that year being one of the reasons that ultimately culminated in my departure in late 2010), though I have cautiously attended services there the last few weeks.
2. I have since then become much more educated on the history of the Christian right, and now see where many of the excesses that I wrote about stem from.
3. I hear significantly fewer references to Romans 13 made in church.
4. Despite the protests that were offered on my 2008 note, I hear much less about abortion in presidential debates, campaign ads, and even in church on Sunday morning.
5. Instead, I hear much more about the economy and the government's relationship to the poor---now finally being given some explicit argumentation from Christian principles (if not Scripture). (Not surprisingly, there is equal Christian argumentation on both sides.)
6. And, perhaps most important (and the reason I'm writing this post), the Christian right may now be forced to reexamine their unquestioning support of Republican candidates.

This reexamination comes from the choice they now have to make---in some small sense---between their political agenda and their convictions about the gospel laid out in Scripture. I'm referring (as you might have guessed) to the evangelical conviction that believing a false gospel is a serious problem. Evangelicals---especially the more fiery ones, who are usually also fiery on political issues---rely on texts like Galatians 1:6-9 and 1 John 1:18-27 as a litmus test to distinguish genuine Christianity from heresies the way Archimedes relied on his principle of displacement to distinguish authentic gold from a forgery. And these evangelicals believe the warnings in these texts are dire:

"But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preached to you, let them be under God’s curse!"

"Whoever denies that Jesus is the Christ... is the antichrist... No one who denies the Son has the Father."

Many evangelicals---including these fiery, Republican evangelicals---believe that Mormonism falls under this category of "another gospel" that "denies that Jesus is the Christ." These evangelicals take the deity of Jesus very seriously---as they should, if they believe it to be true---and reject any gospel---like that of Mormonism---that denies it.

So, they have some distress as November approaches: Do they stay true to their social and political convictions, and vote for someone whom they believe (based on such a dire, central conviction in their religion) is in this heretical hotseat? Do they stay true to their evangelical profession that "the gospel is central" and vote for the other candidate who at least claims to believe the same gospel they do? Or do they wander in a political wilderness, wishing they were back in the Egypt of the 2008 election? (It's strikingly similar to the Jeroboam vs. Rehoboam "election.")

I suspect that most will take the first route. Their priority in elections, after all, has been to oppose the social and political evils that they perceive to be so great. "The gospel is the church's responsibility," I suspect they might say, "not the President's."

I could not be happier with this answer.

Because really, evangelical Republicans' rationalization for sticking with the Republican candidate simply goes to demonstrate what I wrote four years ago: We have to not only cultivate our beliefs, but also cultivate the priorities we place on those beliefs, in the contexts in which we live them out. These evangelical Republicans are willing to favor their stance on political and social issues over their commitment to a pure gospel in the context of this election. That cannot possibly be an easy decision to make, but in the end, it is certainly a reasonable one.

But in making that decision, in assigning those weightings, they must be willing to respectfully allow other Christians to assign their weightings differently---in this decision, and in the myriad others that we face in this world of issues and questions that cannot be resolved to a one-dimensional spectrum, or a single choice between two equally nuanced options. We need to acknowledge that these determinations are not easy, that there is a struggle involved. We should never present the end result as the only logical outcome that we arrived at in a straightforward and nearly instantaneous manner.

I therefore propose two considerations for the next six months.

1. Let's adopt an attitude of sharing in the struggle, instead of arguing over the answer. It is not a straightforward manner to decide whom to vote for, what party to align oneself with (or declare independence from parties), what stance to take on a political issue, what stance to take on a theological issue, what career to choose, where to attend church, etc.
2. If you feel uncomfortable voting for someone, then don't. If you feel uncomfortable voting for either presidential candidate, then don't vote for either. Still vote---for whatever you feel comfortable---but leave that line blank. The Republican party has long relied on the support of much of the Christian church, and their drift away from the abortion issue (which the Christian right said was so important to them four years ago) indicates that now they're assuming that support. But what if some Christians voted for every issue/candidate with whom they felt comfortable, but left the presidential line blank? What if the number of abstentions on the presidential selection on ballots became a statistic referred to on the news? What if it became a concern, to both parties?

Responsibility leads to engagement, ??? leads to withdrawal

The Emerging Scholars Blog is hosting a discussion of Steven Garber's The Fabric of Faithfulness. I read this book a couple years ago, and am enjoying a reread.

One of the main themes (or, at least, how I would word it) of the book is that a burden of responsibility leads to engagement. My wife Amy and I were discussing this theme last night, and considered how such responsibility-based engagement, when pursued in a healthy community of fellow engagers, leads to a multiplicative cascade. The "community of fellow engagers" is one of the three goals that Garber encourages his readers to pursue (along with a worldview that inspires responsibility and a mentor to nurture that worldview).

We pictured the process as:

responsibility --> engagement --> multiplication/cascade

Yet many Christians and churches seem to exhibit disengagement, and feel their energies being sapped and dissipated. We came to the question of, "If a burden of responsibility leads to engagement, what kind of motivation leads to withdrawal?" In other words, what would replace ??? in the picture:

??? --> withdrawal --> sapping/dissipation?

What do you think?

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?

What "Reformed Christianity" Used to Mean

It amazes me how words can transform meaning so drastically. Take "google," the sound uttered by the young son of a mathematician seeking to come up with a name for 10^100, now the name of a culturally savvy technology giant. Or take the word, "crash;" probably originally an onomatopoeia describing the sound of a tree falling (or the like), this word has expanded to include the failure of abstract or technical systems that are supposed to function, like the economy or a computer, which may not include a recognizable sound. Many words, it seems, gain meaning as time progresses.

Unfortunately, some words lose meaning, like "Reformed Christianity." When a Christian today says that they're "Reformed," they usually mean that they're a Calvinist--i.e., they agree with the synopsis of soteriology described by TULIP, which was formed as a clarification of an aspect of reformed doctrine in response to a group of dissenters.

But the reformed worldview originally was so much more than this. Being reformed meant that you believed that all of human experience was sacred, under the sovereign care of Christ. Being reformed meant you valued people being able to read God's word in their own language. Being reformed meant that you believed that the world was created good, the world was corrupted by sin, and that the world was being redeemed by Christ. Being reformed meant that you believed that the word "world" meant the physical "world" of rocks and trees and skies and seas, the "world" of human beings, and the "world" of cultures and institutions that those people created. Being reformed meant that you believed there was no separation of human life into sacred and secular.

Abraham Kuyper summarized it well when he said, "There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry: 'Mine!'"

That's what "Reformed" used to mean. I hope that we Christians in the academic world can reclaim at least some of this meaning, as our lives and ministries intersect with diverse people and institutions and ideas from all over the world.

Doubly Marginalized, Part 4: The Advantages of Being in the Corner

Christians in the university very often feel like outsiders in both their churches and their institutions. In this series, I take a look at the different aspects of this situation of being doubly marginalized.

My previous post showed a little of the downsides of life in the corner, but I think the benefits far outweigh the struggles.

1. Christians in the university get to view God's world in detail and trace that view back to Him in praise.
2. We're able to offer a compassion and care to our students that outlasts and outshines that of our colleagues.
3. Each semester, we have the opportunity to serve as Christ's ambassadors to a new generation of developing culture-makers.
4. We can offer unique viewpoints or expressions of Scriptural truths that are often missed by clergy.
5. We can provide logic and insight to help church issues.
6. We can live a unified or non-compartmentalized life.
7. We live out daily the interaction between faith and culture.
8. Our schedules are often very flexible, increasing our availability to God's service and to our families.
9. We develop and present the academic framework through which our society views and responds to reality.
10. We are a prominent public voice for the reasonableness of the Christian faith.

The list could go on. Based on these thoughts, there are two things that I wish would develop in the church.

First, I would like to see local churches utilize their local Christian faculty more. This could mean encouraging college students (current or aspiring) to talk with them, or hosting a discussion panel, or hosting seminars about their thoughts of how their studies relate to their faith, or encouraging the Christian faculty to publish in Christian literature. What kinds of ministry activities have you seen that have successfully brought out the gifts and experiences of Christian faculty?

Second, I would love to see Christians of every vocation develop their own personal list like the one above. Just ask yourself, "How could God use me in my position in the world?" It's not a question of how many co-workers or clients you can share the gospel with in one week; it's not a matter of analyzing the moral quality or "holiness" of what you do; and it's not a matter of how much tithe money you generate each week. It's a matter of asking how God has called you to honor Him by making a difference in the lives of others, what the Old Testament calls "pursuing peace (Hebrew: shalom)." Perhaps if all Christians started looking at life that way, none of us would feel like we were in the corner.