Your reputation.

Do you think about it much?  Do other people? Does that ever concern you? Do you care?

The reputation of those who claim to follow Jesus has long been a topic of inquiry and discussion among my close friends.  Believers have so frequently suffered from such negative and/or embarrassing reputations that some people have suggested the term "Christian" needs to be dropped altogether.  Although I empathize with the advocates of such a plan, I personally have remained committed to "redeeming" the designation Christian.

So then, how do we go about redeeming the use of Christian?  Well, in part, I believe its through the attitudes and actions of those who choose to follow Jesus.  Reputations are usually tied to "trust."  For so long and in so many ways, Christians have destroyed the trust that people (and our culture) may have once had in them.  And trust is a funny thing -- it can be destroyed in a moment, but usually takes a painfully long time to re-earn.  I believe, however, that this is an absolute must!

And so I often think about the "reputations" we have as followers of Christ.  And this morning -- when I opened up today's newspaper -- something on the front page jumped right out at me!  It was a small block of type -- an inset, a featured quote -- taken from the headline story about a local soldier who had recently been killed in Iraq. The quote was from a fellow soldier.  Here's what he said about his friend who had died:

"He's probably one of the best guys I've ever known.  He always had a smile on his face, like he knew something wonderful."

I don't know about you, but that last sentence really hit me hard.  It wasn't just that Javier Villanueva smiled all the time -- it was what his smiling seemed to communicate to others.  It was a reflection of his reputation. (click on image for full size)

Oh that such things would be said about those who follow Christ:  joy-filled people who "know something wonderful."

I think there is still hope.  How about you?

Well... it finally happened.

God visited my blog!

You can catch all he had to say by clicking on the comment link (in the left column), or go to the final comment on this article.

Which, honestly, has me wondering...

Of all the topics we've discussed here over the years, why do you think God chose this one (The Spiritual Roots of American Arrogance) to comment on, and secondly, what exegetical method should I use to accurately interpret his words?

• Redaction Criticism?
• Social Criticism?
• Narrative Criticism?
• Reader-Response Criticism?
• Deconstructive Criticism?
• Feminist Criticism?
• Other?

What are your thoughts on all this?  I'm all ears!

(by the way -- Happy Thanksgiving!)

Above: "The Christian Martyrs Last Prayer", by Jean Leon Gerome, 1883. (to view full-sized, click here)

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Are we too sophisticated for persecution?  I suppose it depends on what one means and where one lives.  But if you happen to live anywhere in North America, the answer is probably "yes."  Why is that?  It's because North American believers have become experts at insulating themselves from the trials and tribulations of other Christians around the world. 

It isn't an insulation that prevents them from acknowledging or responding to natural disasters and the like -- there is a social expectation to respond to such needs. Rather, it's the kind of insulation that serves as a sort of "buffer-zone-of-the-soul," convincing us of the general irrelevance of religious persecution -- something that used to happen to ancient Christians, but that we are generally immune to in modern times (therefore, why bother thinking about such things?). In the case of many pentecostal and charismatic Christians, admitting or dwelling on persecution runs contrary to one's positive-confessing, scripture promise-quoting, victory-claiming mindset. Thinking about believers who might be experiencing "defeat" is uncomfortable and counterproductive, right?  Yet it seems to me that the general lack of concern evidenced throughout the American Church for those suffering and/or dying for their faith in Christ is unconsciencable.  It also betrays the depth of selfishness at work in our overly individualistic society.

Shockingly few Christians, it seems, even think about religious persecution much less worry, pray, or write about it (our friend Justin is an exception, as witnessed by his recent post). Maybe we're just too sophisticated and advanced for such archaic notions. And yet, despite the fact that horrendous acts of violence are being committed against Christians in many places around the world, the topic is scarcely ever found upon the lips of North American believers.  There are, however, some brave bloggers (and others), who are tirelessly committed to drawing attention to this travesty.  Even as I write this I wonder... how many people care enough or have courage enough to face the shocking truth at blog sites like this one, or read stories printed in newspapers like this one (WARNING:these links are graphic)?

The very idea of persecution is too disturbing and too far removed from our every day lives to give it the attention that it deserves. Although I have personally drawn attention to the persecuted church over the 20 years that I've been a pastor, I confess that it plays far too small a part in my praying, my teaching, and my giving.

What can we do about all this? How can we turn the tide of self-absorbtion and lack of caring?  Well, for starters, how about participating in the National Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church, regularly visit one of the several sites which focus on the persecuted church around the world,  financially contribute to one of the organizations that seek to help persecuted believers, and make prayer for the persecuted Church a daily part of your life.

So, what are your thoughts concerning our general disinterest in the persecuted Church?  Is it one of our "sins of omission"?  Or are people making a big deal over nothing?

During a recent conversation, a prominent seminary professor made to me what seemed to be an outlandish claim: that the many problems plaguing the Roman Catholic Church could be traced back to their use of the crucifix -- a symbol of a powerless Christ for a powerless church.  Such rhetoric was shocking to me -- the likes of which I haven't encountered since the Catholic-bashing that was common among evangelicals during the 70's and 80's.

My personal view concerning the crucifix and it's appropriateness is certainly different.  Although I concede that the message conveyed by an empty cross (i.e.post-resurrection) is powerful and important, evangelicals have long distanced themselves from the suffering and cost inextricably connected to the cross of Christ. The crucifix therefore represents a helpful corrective in this sense.

Apart from this, I have noticed in recent years, a growing appreciation among evangelical believers for the crucifix.  It's as if they recognize that Protestant representations of Jesus have lacked something that the image of our crucified Savior seems to fill-in.

I'd love hearing your thoughts on this topic.  Is the crucifix a powerful and helpful symbol of our faith?  Or is my professor friend correct in asserting that the image of the crucifix amounts to a clever ploy of the Enemy -- one designed to keep an enormous segment of the Church relatively powerless?

With three funerals to conduct this week, it's certainly understandable that I've been thinking about death, dying, and grief.  And when it comes to grief, it seems to me that there is a growing number of people in our American culture who struggle with the whole notion of open casket funerals.  At last night's funeral, approximately 90% of those who attended chose not to approach the casket or even look in its direction as they filed past to leave.  Afterward, a family member commented about it and asked me why that was.

For some families, an open casket funeral is a must -- it's a way to bring closure and to say their goodbyes.  For others, it's little more than a macabre display which dishonors rather than honors the deceased.  Add to all this (IMHO) a general insulation from the stark realities of death and dying in our culture (VERY unlike many other parts of the world), so that no wonder people are either afraid of looking at death, or convince themselves that somehow they are above such a thing.

Cremation is becoming more popular in recent times, although Christians have not always seen eye to eye on the practice (e.g. article in Christianity Today). Despite this, it does for many people, provide an alternative which avoids the whole open casket - closed casket dilemma.

That said, I'd enjoy hearing your thoughts on the use of open caskets.

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Do you have one?

Do we need one?

Do you even care?

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This is the subject of a fascinating book by Robert K. Johnston, entitled, "The Christian at Play."

Here is Johnston's description of play:

I would understand play as that activity which is freely and spontaneously entered into, but which, once begun, has its own design, its own rules or order, which must be followed so that the play activity may continue. The player is called into play by a potential co-player and/or play object, and while at play, treats other players and/or "playthings" as personal, creating with them a community that can be characterized by "I-Thou" rather than "I-It" relationships. This play has a new time (a playtime) and a new space (a playground) which function as "parentheses" in the life and world of the player. The concerns of everyday life come to a temporary standstill in the mind of the player, and the boundaries of his or her world are redefined. Play, to be play, must be entered into without outside purpose; it cannot be connected with a material interest or ulterior motive, for then the boundaries of the playground and the limits of the playtime are violated. But though play is an end in itself, it can nevertheless have several consequences. Chief among these are the joy and release, the personal fulfillment, the remembering of our common humanity, and the presentiment of the sacred, which the player sometimes experiences in and through the activity. One's participation in the adventure of playing, even given the risk of injury or defeat, finds resolution at the end of the experience, and one re-enters ongoing life in a new spirit of thanksgiving and celebration. The player is a changed individual because of the playtime, his or her life having been enlarged beyond the workaday world. (p. 34)

Johnston devotes a good portion of his book, analyzing views of play from the writings of Sam Keen, Jurgen Moltmann, Peter Berger, and C.S. Lewis.  Something Johnston highlighted about C.S. Lewis really stuck out with me:

Will marriage unions remain intact, or at least be recognized in some way in heaven?

In Mark 12:25, Jesus responds to a question the Sadducees had asked him about marriage in the next life:

"For when they rise from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven." (NRSV) 

One of the fascinating things about this passage is what Jesus does not say.  He does not say that marriage will not exist in the age to come, only that the resurrected dead will neither marry (gamousin) nor be given in marriage (gamizontai).  The Greek terms "refer to the gender-specific roles played in early Jewish society by the man and the woman in the process of getting married...thus Mark has Jesus saying that no new marriages will be initiated in the eschatological state." 1

This is not a uniquely modern interpretation. Tertullian specifically denies that God will separate in the next life those whom he has joined together in holy union in this one. 2   Which immediately raises the following question in my mind:

• If two people are joined in holy matrimony in this life, and one partner deliberately and continually rejects Christ, what should we make of their eternal destiny and that of their partner?

And then, on the broader subject of whether or not pre-existing marriages continue or not throughout eternity, the following thoughts and questions come to mind:

• What of the mystery of matrimony, specifically of a woman and a man -- both part of the imago dei -- who are mysteriously made "one"?  If God warns humans not to break that bond, why would he then break them himself by dissolving marriages at the end of this life?
• When Jesus says that we will be "like angels in heaven" -- the context suggests that he's referring to angel's eternal nature, for angels never die.  I don't think Jesus is suggesting that angels have no sexual identity -- just look at Genesis 6:1-4!
• What would be the purpose behind leaving existing marriage unions intact in the age to come?  Perhaps, as an enduring testimony to the mystery of "two-become-one" -- a further reminder that humans were created in the image of God.  What other thoughts do you have concerning the possible purpose behind leaving existing marriages intact?
• What role does God play in recognizing existing marital unions anyway?  Is it possible for two people to marry outside of God's will and pleasure?  Is God ethically bound to recognize all unions, regardless of the circumstances surrounding them?

These are some of the questions I'm grappling with, and I invite you to grapple right along with me!

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1 Ben Witherington III, The Gospel of Mark: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001, p. 328.

2 Tertullian, "On Monogamy," Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. IV.  Peabody: Hendrickson, 1994, pp.59-72