The Girl Who Kneaded Bread
What would it have been like to hear Jesus preach? A fictional account of a girl who heard Jesus and how he satisfies our needs. [Guest Post by Erin Bruker.]
The Girl Who Kneaded Bread
Guest Post by Erin Bruker
What would it have been like to hear Jesus preach? A fictional account of a girl who heard Jesus and how he satisfies our needs.
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Like most women in Capernaum, it seems like I’m always kneading bread. Or mixing the dough . . . or waiting for it to rise . . . or shaping the loaves . . . It never goes away. That’s why I was excited when my father stepped into the kitchen and asked me, “Want to go along to market?”
I glanced at my mother with a pleading look.
“Did you finish your chores?” she asked.
“I just have to finish kneading this loaf,” I answered.
She gave a slight nod of approval and a smile spread across my face.
As father and I neared the market, we met a friend of his who was headed for the synagogue to hear the rabbi Jesus of Nazareth and invited us to come along, adding “Did you hear? He claims to be the son of God.” Apparently Jesus had fed 5,000 people in Galilee the day before with two fish and five loaves.
Father looked at me with a face full of intrigue. “Let’s go along; the market can wait.”
People packed the synagogue, so we stood in the back. Everyone was anxious to hear Jesus; they coaxed him to stand up front and give a speech. Jesus was just a carpenter but spoke with authority. And he was mesmerizing, though he used many analogies which I did not understand: “my Father gives you the true bread from heaven”; “the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world”; “I am the bread of life” “I am the living bread that came down from heaven”; “whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life”; “for my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink”; “he who feeds on this bread will live forever.” What did he mean by these?
When he finished, people slowly went back to their business. On our way home from the market, father and I talked. “How could Jesus claim to be God?”
“He certainly had power from somewhere to do miracles,” I answered. “What do you think he meant when he said ‘eat my flesh and drink my blood’? Or that he had the ‘bread of life’?”
“I don’t know,” my father answered, “but we aren’t about to become cannibals!”
“And he said doing this was supposed to make us live forever? I’m not sure,” I added.
We concluded Jesus was crazy.
The next morning I was in the kitchen kneading bread (again). The chore never stopped. I thought about what Jesus said. “Boy,” I thought, “it’d be nice to have some of his bread of life and no longer have to knead!”
There had been some people in the synagogue who did not think Jesus was crazy. I heard one man tell a friend, “Jesus healed my daughter right before my eyes! He is God as he claims—there is no other way my daughter would be alive today.”
I decided I needed to talk to my father.
I found him carving wood on our porch. “Maybe Jesus did have a point yesterday when he said he was the bread of life,” I began. “He spoke with much more knowledge than the other rabbis. If he is God, then he actually would know what someone has to do to get to heaven.”
“I have been thinking about it too,” my father replied. “If he is the bread of life, then we need him to get to heaven. We certainly don’t deserve to enter heaven on our own with all the wrongs we have done.”
I agreed. “It seems the bread he’s offering is a gift, the gift of himself. Wow—what a gift! Now, we get to follow God’s commands out of love instead of guilt. Though I cannot live up to God’s standard, Jesus has given me hope. I feel like I have been freed from a big burden!”
“I feel the same way,” he smiled. “I am so glad you came along with me yesterday.”
I returned to the kitchen with a happy heart, knowing that I had found the bread of life.
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ERIN BRUKER belongs to Community Evangelical Free Church in Harrisburg, PA.
[Picture by Gaelle Marcel / Unsplash]
TAKING GOD AT HIS WORD by Kevin DeYoung (FAN AND FLAME Book Reviews)
A book review of TAKING GOD AT HIS WORD by Kevin DeYoung. As the subtitle suggests, it’s a great book to remind us that God’s Word is knowable, necessary, and enough—and practically why all of this matters.
Kevin DeYoung. Taking God At His Word: Why the Bible Is Knowable, Necessary, and Enough, and What That Means for You and Me. Wheaton, Illinois: Crossway, 2014. 144 pp. $17.99.
You Had Me at Hello
I once heard John Piper say, “Books don’t change people, paragraphs do—sometimes sentences.”
I loved all of Kevin DeYoung’s book, Taking God At His Word, but one paragraph was especially lovable. As I begin this review, I’ll start with it.
The paragraph comes from the introduction. I had actually read a portion of the paragraph on a blog around a year ago when the book was first published. I loved it then, but now even more after seeing it in context, i.e. the context of DeYoung’s discussion of the longest chapter in the Bible—Psalm 119. Psalm 119 is an acrostic poem that gives one stanza to each letter of the Hebrew alphabet creating 176 verses. And what’s the topic of this Psalm? The Bible.
Here is the paragraph that so moved me:
Think of this chapter [the Introduction] as application and the remaining seven chapters of this book as the necessary building blocks so that the conclusions of Psalm 119 are warranted.
Or, if I can use a more memorable metaphor, think of [chapters] 2 through 8 as seven different vials poured into a bubbling cauldron and this chapter as the catalytic result.
Psalm 119 shows us what to believe about the word of God, what to feel about the word of God, and what to do with the word of God. That’s the application. That’s the chemical reaction produced in God’s people when we pour into our heads and hearts the sufficiency of Scripture, the authority of Scripture, the clarity of Scripture, and everything else we will encounter in the remaining seven chapters.
Psalm 119 is the explosion of praise made possible by an orthodox and evangelical doctrine of Scripture. When we embrace everything the Bible says about itself, then—and only then—will we believe what we should believe about the word of God, feel what we should feel, and do with the word of God what we ought to do. (14, emphasis added)
There are several things in particular which stand out to me in this paragraph, but I’ll just mention two.
1. The Author of Psalm 119 was Orthodox and Evangelical
First, I’ll start with my favorite line: “Psalm 119 is the explosion of praise made possible by an orthodox and evangelical doctrine of Scripture.” I love this anachronism because it’s not really an anachronism at all.
We often (wrongly) think of our particular hermeneutical approach to Scripture as something we created, rather than the attempt to have the same hermeneutical approach to Scripture that Scripture has to itself. What I mean is this: I love that this quote reminds me that an “orthodox and evangelical doctrine of Scripture” is not something fabricated by moderns, but rather is the very view of the original authors. What a great reminder that when we, as evangelicals, put supreme confidence in Scripture, we are not putting more confidence in Scripture than the Psalmist had… or for that matter, more confidence than the apostle Peter had (see pg. 34)… or Jesus had (see pg. 110ff).
Scoffers and cynics would not write Psalm 119. The indifferent, ho-hum, and lukewarm would not either. But those with an orthodox, evangelical, and high view of Scripture would—indeed, did. Those who love the Bible’s sufficiency, clarity, authority, and necessity experience a chemical reaction in the heart which tends to produce an “explosion of praise.”
2. How Then Shall We Feel?
In Taking God At His Word, I also appreciated DeYoung’s challenge that the Bible does not merely provide us with what we are “to believe” and “to do”—albeit very important things. DeYoung, both in the above paragraph and the rest of the chapters, also puts stress, as does the Bible, on how we are “to feel” about the Word.
And it’s here that we find an often underrepresented emphasis in books about Scripture—but certainly not in Psalm 119. The author of Psalm 119 does not feel neutral about Scripture. He feels passionately about it. He loves God’s Word (vv. 48, 97, 119, 127, 140), he delights in God’s Word (vv. 14, 24, 70, 143, 174), and he longs to keep God’s Word (vv. 5, 10, 17, 20, 40, 131); he even expresses anger when people don’t (vv. 48, 97, 119, 127, 140). And the Psalmist urges us to feel this same passion.
Engagement with Dissenters
Before wrapping up my review, I want to give space to one of the book’s chief strengths. DeYoung has a wonderful, skillful way of articulating and then critiquing opposing views of the Bible—views which tend to bleed the Bible of its life giving power, rather than transfuse it to us.
For example, although he avoids the technical name, he aptly engages the “documentary hypothesis” (104-5). Contra the evangelical view, the documentary hypothesis is the view that Moses did not write the Pentateuch to the Israelites while in the wilderness, with, of course, a few small editorial updates that came later (like the one about Moses’s death). Rather, the documentary hypothesis teaches that whole teams of people wrote these books over several centuries and often from divergent theological convictions.
DeYoung notes, “This [complicated, cynical questioning of authorship] is part and parcel of what seems plain to so much modern scholarship, but it isn’t even remotely connected to anything we see from Jesus in the way he handled the Old Testament” (105).
This is a great example of DeYoung’s ability to both articulate and critique opposing views. Here’s another. On pages 65ff, he analyzes the false humility of those who say:
We can’t put God in a box. We can’t define him with human language. If we could define him with our words, then he wouldn’t be God anymore. Scripture simply gives us one inspired record of human beings trying to describe mysteries that are beyond mere words and language. (65)
This sounds “nice, even noble,” but it smuggles in all sorts of false assumptions about the Bible. And besides, as DeYoung notes, the doctrines of the clarity of Scripture and Christian epistemology, are not only related to the Bible but our view of God.
When we say that we believe the word of God is clear (with all the necessary nuances, of course), we are saying something about God, namely, that he is able to communicate with clarity. And when Christians say that we can actually know God through his Word (our epistemology), we are really saying something about God, namely, that God is able to make himself known through his Word.
Recommendation
Throughout the rest of the book, DeYoung covers the four main, historical doctrines about the Word (it’s sufficiency, clarity, authority, and necessity), as well as fitting in a few other related chapters.
As I hope you have already sensed, far from being merely academic and aloof, the book remains warm and doxological, that is to say, the book stirs an “explosion of praise” in readers, at least this reader. Moreover, for those who want to pursue other books about the Bible but feel unsure of where to start, at the end of the book, DeYoung provides an annotated bibliography of what he calls, “30 of the best books on the Good Book.”
If you are presently unfamiliar with DeYoung, he is a young, prolific, and impacting author. He writes a popular blog hosted on The Gospel Coalition. Yet, DeYoung’s greatest strength is that he’s a master at taking difficult theological concepts and presenting them in ways that are clear, compelling, and faithful to Scripture. Time and again DeYoung brings clarity to the topics he engages. In so doing, he hits his stated target, “My aim is to be simple, uncluttered, straightforward, and manifestly biblical.”
And, in Taking God at His Word, he is. I highly recommend it.
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IS GOD ANTI-GAY? & WASHED AND WAITING (FAN AND FLAME Book Reviews)
There has been a steady stream of books about homosexuality published in the last few years, but two in particular from evangelical authors have received a lot of attention. The two books I am speaking of are IS GOD ANTI-GAY? by Sam Allberry and WASHED AND WAITING by Wesley Hill. And they should receive attention; they are great books.
Sam Allberry. Is God anti-gay? And other questions about homosexuality, the Bible and same-sex attraction. United Kingdom: The Good Book Company, 2013. 88 pp. $7.99.
Wesley Hill. Washed and Waiting: Reflections on Christian Faithfulness and Homosexuality. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2010. 160 pp. $14.99.
There has been a steady stream of books about homosexuality published in the last few years, but two in particular from evangelical authors have received a lot of attention. The two books I am speaking of are Is God anti-gay? by Sam Allberry and Washed and Waiting by Wesley Hill. And they should receive attention; they are great books. Besides being great books, they also have many other things in common. For example, both books are short and evangelical. Additionally, they are written by Christian men who struggle with same-sex attraction, but yet—and this is so important—believe that God calls them to forsake acting on these feelings and to live celibate lives.
Maybe you can already see why they have received so much attention.
In this post, I am going to point out some of the strengths of each book. Then I am going to discuss one difference between the authors with respect to the terminology they use to describe their lingering homosexual feelings. Finally, I’ll offer a few comments about what Christians mean and don’t mean by “change.”
But before I do all of that, let me make a disclaimer: I am primarily writing this post for Christians that already hold to a traditional understanding of the Bible and sexuality. In other words, I’m not primarily writing this to convince the unconvinced.
Is God anti-gay? by Sam Allberry
Sam Allberry is the author of the first book, Is God anti-gay? And other questions about homosexuality, the Bible and same-sex attraction. He is a pastor in England and has also authored Connected: Living in Light of the Trinity. Here are a few of the strengths of his book.
First, Allberry includes the content of gospel message very early in the book (7-10), and he explains how this message changed his life. I consider this a great benefit because I suspect that many people who know very little about Christianity will be drawn in by the book’s provocative title. And speaking of starting with something, before Allberry dives into all of the Bible’s “Thou Shalt Not’s,” he first begins with God’s positive design for sex (13)—also very helpful.
Second, Allberry frequently, and helpfully, places the struggle with homosexual practice within the larger, general struggle with sin that is common to all followers of Christ (11-12). I mention this because too often in the church we tend to single out homosexual practice, even among other sexual sins. To a point, I understand why this is done, but it’s not entirely helpful either. Every prohibition against homosexual practice that’s in the Bible occurs in the context of a list of many different sins. That’s worth remembering.
Third, Allberry’s treatment of the biblical passages relating specifically to homosexuality is clear and compelling (25-38). I’m not saying that everyone who disagrees with the traditional view will be won over, but I am saying that a strong case is made for it.
Finally, the book is eminently practical for those that have objections and questions. Examples include things like the following: “Surely same-sex partnership is OK if it’s committed and faithful?” (39-40); “Jesus never mentions homosexuality, so how can it be wrong?” (40-41); “What are the main struggles for a homosexual Christian?” (54); and “My non-Christian friend has just told me they’re gay. How should I respond?” (74). These are real objections and real questions, and Allberry, with humility and grace, gives real answers.
Washed and Waiting by Wesley Hill
Wesley Hill is the author of the second book. The full title is Washed and Waiting: Reflections on Christian Faithfulness and Homosexuality. The title comes from two verses that Hill believes are foundational on this topic, namely, 1 Corinthians 6:11 (“You were washed”) and Romans 8:23 (“we wait eagerly”).
Hill completed his undergraduate degree at Wheaton College, and received a masters and PhD from Durham University in the UK. He is currently an Assistant Professor of Biblical Studies at Trinity School for Ministry just north of Pittsburgh, PA. His most recent book is Spiritual Friendship: Finding Love in the Church as a Celibate Gay Christian.
Comparing Washed and Waiting with Is God anti-gay? is a little like comparing the proverbial apples and oranges—sure there are a few similarities, but fundamentally they are just not the same. Let me share a few of the strengths of Hill’s book, and hopefully that will help you grasp how the two books are simultaneously similar and different.
First, the book reads much more like a memoir than all of the other books I have read on the topic of homosexuality. This is because, in many ways, it is just that—a memoir. In the book, Hill shares his own story, but also included are chapters on the lives of two other Christian authors who struggled with homosexual desires, namely, Henri Nouwen and Gerard Manley Hopkins (both now deceased).
In this way, Hill’s audience is rather specific. Up front, he tells readers, “I’m writing as one homosexual Christian for other homosexual Christians” (16). Perhaps that is a narrow market—a gay Christian writing for other gay Christians. However, the special, captivating power inherent to memoirs has most certainly expanded his audience. And by “special, captivating power,” I mean this: memoirs have a way of inviting believers (in this case, some who have homosexual desires, others who do not) to live vicariously in the struggles and victories of another saint, which is a wonderful and soul enlarging exercise.
Second, the prose of Washed and Waiting is beautiful. Hill has a strong command of language. Additionally, he fills his book with eclectic references to the arts in general and literature in particular. References to paintings, poems, plays, and prose are employed in the most natural of ways. For example, in every chapter expect to see quotations or allusions to a dozen authors, people like H.W. Auden, Gerard Manley Hopkins, Wendell Berry, William Shakespeare, J.R.R. Tolkien, Leo Tolstoy, Anne Lamott, and of course, C.S. Lewis; yes, lots of Lewis.
Finally, Washed and Waiting articulates the questions of broader culture that seem to clash with a traditional Christian understanding of sexuality, love, and “good news.” That these questions are given a voice will no doubt make some uncomfortable, especially because in just a few places it’s not always immediately clear whether these questions continue to be Hill’s questions (or only were his questions). However, the careful reader will see that in and around the questions and questioning, there is a deep sense that questions about homosexuality do have answers, and these answers are beautiful and biblical answers, which Hill himself affirms and loves.
One Difference between the Authors and Their Terminology
As I said above, these two books are similar in many ways, but fundamentally not the same. I hope you’ve gained a sense of this from the above discussion of their strengths. There is one difference, however, that would be helpful to point out explicitly. You may have already noticed it, but the difference has to do with the way terminology is used to describe on-going homosexual desires.
Sam Allberry tends to speak in terms of “same-sex attraction,” or especially with respect to Christians, in terms of “struggle with same-sex attraction.” You can see this reflected in the subtitle of his book (And other questions about homosexuality, the Bible and same-sex attraction). Wesley Hill, on the other hand, is far more comfortable continuing to use the terms gay and homosexual, although I should point out that Hill often qualifies the terms slightly by adding the word “celibate” (e.g. “a celibate gay Christian”).
For many, this difference is far more than a semantic one. Our understanding of what we believe to be the highest and most fundamental aspects of human identity is at stake. Allberry writes:
In western culture today the obvious term for someone with homosexual feelings is “gay.” But in my experience this often refers to far more than someone’s sexual orientation. It has come to describe an identity and a lifestyle. When someone says that they’re gay, or for that matter, lesbian or bisexual, they normally mean that, as well as being attracted to someone of the same gender, their sexual preference is one of the fundamental ways in which they see themselves.
And it’s for this reason that I tend to avoid using the term. It sounds clunky to describe myself as “someone who experiences same-sex attraction.” But describing myself like this is a way for me to recognize that the kind of sexual attractions I experience are not fundamental to my identity. They are part of what I feel but are not who I am in a fundamental sense. I’m far more than my sexuality. (10-11, emphasis original)
Do you hear what he is saying? Allberry argues that speaking of someone, specifically a Christian, as “gay” or “homosexual,” simply gives too much weight to just one aspect of what it means to be human, namely our sexuality. Sexuality is important, but biblically speaking a person’s sexuality is ancillary to who they are, not foundational and ultimate.
And what does Hill believe about all of this?
In fairness, I’m pretty sure he agrees with all of it. Yes, from the very beginning of his book he does use terms like “gay” and “homosexual,” or even “gay Christian” and “homosexual Christian,” but he also clarifies that he doesn’t mean what most might mean when using those terms. Let me quote him at length from pages 14-15:
My story is very different from the other stories told by people wearing the same designations—“homosexual Christian”—that I wear. Many in the church—more so in the mainline denominations than the evangelical ones… tell stories of “homosexual holiness.” The authors of these narratives profess a deep faith in Christ and claim a powerful experience of the Holy Spirit precisely in and through their homosexual practice…
My own story, by contrast, is a story of feeling spiritually hindered rather than helped by my homosexuality. Another way to say it would be to observe that my story testifies to the truth of the proposition the Christian church has held with almost total unanimity through the centuries—namely, that homosexuality was not God’s original creative intention for humanity, that it is, on the contrary, a tragic sign of human nature and relationships being fractured by sin, and therefore that homosexual practice goes against God’s express will for all human beings, especially those who trust in Christ. (14, emphasis original)
More sections from Washed and Waiting could be quoted to address terminology (especially on page 22), but the real question is this: why would Hill tend to speak this way?
I’ve listened to audio recordings where Hill answers this question explicitly. I’m thinking especially of a Q&A at a conference on human sexuality put on by the Evangelical Free Church of American where Hill was one of several keynote speakers (here). The answer to the question to why Hill speaks this way, in short, is this: to gain a hearing from those who would immediately tune him out if he telegraphed his traditional Christian moorings too soon with phrases like “same-sex attraction.” (And remember, in an above quote, Allberry admitted the phrase is a “chunky” one.)
As a pastor, I get this. As soon as I tell people that I am a pastor, the conversation invariably changes. To be aware of this dynamic does not necessarily mean that I am ashamed of my vocation or fearful of identifying myself as a follower of Jesus. I’m not ashamed or afraid. But I can say that in my own life I have learned that there can be a God-honoring motive in delaying the revelation that I’m a pastor. The same is true, I believe, for Hill. Using the terminology of a “gay Christian” is not a way to hide his Christian beliefs indefinitely, but rather a way to help them be heard.
Don’t Christians Change?
Before closing this issue of terminology, it might be helpful to back up and talk about what Christians mean and don’t mean by this word “change.” A few years ago, I remember talking with a mature Christian about this very issue. The person was initially very shocked and disturbed by the thought that there might be gay men and women who genuinely become Christians, but yet continue to struggle with same-sex attraction. This is a startling proposition, one that many Christians have never thought through before. “What—doesn’t becoming a Christian fix this?” some ask.
Well, yes, it does, but that depends on what you mean by “fix” and what you mean by “change.”
Christians most certainly do change, but this doesn’t mean people live with perfect obedience to Jesus right away or that temptations to sin disappear. Consider for a moment sins like pride, heterosexual lust, or explosive anger. Do these fall away immediately upon conversion to Christ, or even shortly thereafter? Sometimes, but not most of the time. And in some cases the temptations never go away.
It can be jarring the first time you think of homosexual feelings this way, that is, as something that might not go away, at least until Heaven. However, when we consider the specific struggle with same-sex attraction in the broader context of the struggle that Christians have with all sin (which both Allberry and Hill do so aptly), it begins to make more sense.
This is not to say that no one will ever experience a fundamental shift in their attractions to the extent that they marry someone of the opposite sex. This happens. If you’d like to read a helpful account of this, you can do so in the book The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert by Rosaria Butterfield. For Butterfield, it happened. And when this kind of change happens, we should praise God for it. However, we should also be willing to heartily acknowledge that God can be—and is!—glorified in the life-long struggle to reject sin on account of the surpassing worth of knowing Jesus Christ. This certainly is a type of “change,” even if the final outworking of the struggle is not completed until we are glorified.
Final Recommendations
For all of the similarities of these two books, I hope you can see that they are actually two very different, but very helpful, books.
If you are a person that is less familiar with the issues involved, especially the issues around the biblical texts, then I would suggest you first read Is God anti-gay? The book is more than a primer on the topic, but it is a least that. If, however, you are more familiar with the issues, and are looking for more of a narrative sweep, then I would suggest Washed and Waiting.
But my hope is that you won’t simply choose between them, but rather read them both.
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The Lifeblood of Christianity
Just how important is the death of Jesus to our faith? Well, how important is blood to your body?
“The importance of the passion and resurrection for the early church is evidenced by the relatively large amount of space the narrative takes in each of the Gospels and especially in Mark. "Out of Mark’s 661 verses, 128 are devoted to the passion and resurrection account, and a total of 242 are devoted to the last week (from the triumphal entry to the resurrection) of Jesus is life.
"The church obviously had more than a passing historical interest in Jesus’ death and resurrection. These events formed the basis of the church’s witness and worship—the lifeblood of early Christianity.”
- Walter W. Wessel & Mark L. Strauss (commenting on the Gospel of Mark in Matthew and Mark, The Expositor’s Bible Commentary, 2010, vol. 9, pg. 936-7; emphasis added)
Jumping the Shark and the Trajectory of Sin
Reflections on returns that diminish and those that don't.
Where Did It Come From?
Maybe you’ve heard the phrase before, and maybe you have not. Jon Hein coined it a few years ago. If you have an extra 15 minutes, it’s an interesting internet search, but if not, here’s the skinny.
“Jumping the shark” refers to the event within a television show that provides the incriminating evidence that the series is no longer any good. It’s that moment of ridiculousness when plot is so threadbare and the characters so clichéd, that you roll not just your eyes, but your whole body grimaces. Are you kidding me? He just jumped a shark.
The genesis of the phrase comes from an episode in the 5th season of Happy Days when Fonzie, while waterskiing (in his leather jacket!), actually jumped over a shark. I know—full body grimace.
It’s not clear to me if the phrase indicates the moment where the journey uphill is crested, and afterwards it’s all downhill; or rather, if “jumping the shark” is an indication that freefall has already commenced. I suspect the latter.
When I heard the phrase for the first time, it seemed to hold true for the handful of shows I have watched. In comedy sitcoms especially, main characters—over time—invariably become caricature of themselves.
Take a character like George Costanza. At his best, he is a caricature of a tragic, sad, unfortunate man. That’s funny. There is some humor there. But then, over time, George became a caricature of his own caricature. Laughs came only with more difficultly, exaggeration, and convolution.
Think also of the cast of Friends—Phoebe started as a caricature of a quirky friend, and Joey a caricature of a somewhat dim, and overly masculine, man. But over time, they became these things on steroids—caricatures of a caricature. I believe the pattern holds for the Dwight Schrutes and Michael Scotts as well.
Can a Genre Also ‘Jump the Shark’?
The other night I was flipping through the channels and I saw Ted Danson was in a cop-detective show. (Later, I learned it was the latest reprise of CSI. How many seasons and cities have there been?)
Apparently, solid characterization quickly drifts into caricature, not simply with individuals in an individual sitcom, but it also happens in shows across similar genres.
Here’s what I mean: I only caught a few minutes, but it was enough to observe a genre in freefall. Gone was ‘subtly,’ and in its place was ‘overt’; gone was ‘slow-cooked, rising tension’; instead there was ‘fast’ and ‘extravagant,’ and violent twits of plot splashed with sex—in other words, not grill master tenderloin, but McRibs slathered in sauce. An early Law and Order episode (a forerunner in the genre, I believe), would look boring in comparison—better, but boring.
What’s this All About?
At this point, you might be thinking, Here we go—another ‘they don’t make them like they use too’ rant.
Not so. It’s not wise to talk like that (Ecclesiastes 7:10).
I think there is more to all of this than the slow degradation of characters in sitcoms and the degradation of shows in genres—more than the relationship between airtime and diminishing returns.
No, there is more going on here. This is the trajectory of sin.
Sin always promises to taste good (cf., Genesis 3:6; Proverbs 9:17). And most of the time, there is some truth in the promise.
But then, when the meal is consumed, sin is still not satisfied. It continues to consume. It eats the styrofoam plate the food was served on. And then the arm that feeds it.
Sin will eat you until there is nothing left. What looks pleasing to the eye, will end in fig leaves and shame. The original caricature is fun, but at some point, the caricature of the caricature is absurd.
This is the picture of sin in Romans. When people go deeper into sin, when we exchange the glory of God for McRibs, things get bad, then worse. Paul writes of “thinking” that becomes “futile” and hearts that become “darkened” (v. 21), and then of the “degrading” of bodies (v. 24).
This is the trajectory of sin. At some point, it jumps the shark. Sin makes people less human and beast-like, and those watching from the outside can often see it more clearly.
Consider the depths that addiction takes people, and what a person will do for a high—whether one from drugs or career advancement or some other ‘high.’ And consider the way sexual immorality often must keep escalating to offset diminishing returns. And consider the legalism of the Pharisees—it got deeper and deeper into its own rules. These are just a few examples; others could be multiplied.
Is it Different with Godliness?
But, godliness, on the other hand, does the opposite.
Life with God makes one more human over time, not less. For those who push themselves to grow in their relationship with God, for those who immerse themselves in the gospel, and for those who surround themselves with strong accountability in the form of other Christians in the local church, this tends to make us the types of humans we were meant to be: humble, dependent, and happy creatures of our God.
Or as Jesus said it, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10). Or as Paul wrote in Ephesians, in the coming ages, God will be continually showing his children the “incomparable riches of his grace” (2:7). That’s a show that doesn’t get old because the Glory of God never jumps the shark.
While sin bits off our arm and still wants more, life with God is a life of increasing joy, not diminishing returns.
No, I Don’t Know Everything, but Thanks for the Reminder
Some passages are easier than others to preach. They just are. But Mark 13 is not one of them.
Sometimes, pastors give the impression that they know it all. But this is not really a 'pastor thing,' so much as a 'people thing'—or then again, maybe I’m just a pastor deflecting the guilt. Regardless, nearly every Tuesday, the week before I preach, I get a fresh reminder that I don’t know everything.
The sermon may look clean, clear, and compelling on Sunday morning—only by the grace of God, of course—but it does not feel that way most Tuesday mornings. Most Tuesdays, it feels opaque, like a thick, tropical jungle.
I felt all of these sorts of things this week as we are jumping back into a series in the Gospel of Mark. My task, come Sunday, is to expound Mark 13:14-27 in which Jesus discuses the end times. One commentator notes that this chapter is “one of the most perplexing chapters in the Bible to understand, for readers and interpreters alike.” (James R. Edwards, The Gospel According to Mark, 383).
I believe it; when I translated the passage last week, I listed out some of the questions I had about each verse. This morning, when I typed them out, there were 62 questions. And the list will grow before it shrinks.
Better get to work.
But I do so with the confidence that in God’s Word there is life—something that truly is clear and compelling—and with the confidence that if I will only swing a machete in the jungle long enough, asking God to lead the way, he will show me something worth showing others. He always has before.
The Thickness and Beauty of the Canon, Even if Closed
If we only have "THIS" much, are we impoverished? Or is there more there than we think?
I believe, along with Christians throughout the ages, that the Bible is closed and complete. We don’t add to it, nor should we expect another to do so, at least ways that are authoritative and normative for all the Church. It would take another post altogether to explain why this is a rational belief, and how this is actually what the Bible seems to say about itself. Maybe some other time I’ll write that post.
This post is for celebration.
Think about this: the Bible consists of 66 books, written by many authors over the period of about 1,600 years. The Bible speaks to and tells stories of battles, violence, sex, fractured families, humility, friendships, love, God and gods, mercy, forgiveness, creation and destruction, shame, destitution, rebellion, miracles, salvation, hope, glory, lies, murder, redemption, and far, far more. And all of the wonder, truth, and glory therein will never be exhausted by finite creatures, even in the coming eternity of joyous, unending learning that awaits the children of God.
Yes, the Bible is “closed,” but slice it thick and grill it medium rare. All by itself, it’s a satisfying meal.
Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. (Isaiah 55:2)
With 66 soul satisfying books, we are not impoverished.
Read it; study it; memorize it; trust it; live it—feast on it. That’s what it’s intended for.