Faither o' Lichts

Today, I was sitting in church, expecting the usual shallowness and questionable theology.  In front of me was a young man who was obviously disabled. His parents were on either side and doing a great job of lovingly regulating his lack of attention.

I've always had a soft spot for anyone weak or in need. So I exchanged a few smiles and a nod or two with him and began to pray for him throughout the service. I wasn't praying for healing necessarily, but for whatever he needed, whatever his parents needed, and that he would be a blessing and blessed like the blind man I wrote about last.

I couldn't help thinking of the mad laird from George MacDonald's book Malcolm. This character is similarly disabled and quite rejected. But is drawn to understand in what way he can, his purpose and destiny. At one point in the book the laird learns of God as the Father of Lights and latches onto the phrase. Eventually the laird sneaks into a church service where he is not wanted and can't help crying out this name of God. Not knowing where the sound comes from, it creates quite a stir and starts a sort of revival.

The laird repeats the phrase to his death as the only expression of faith he can make. The phrase resonates with me as one who has had many times when words fail. I kept hearing it in my head as I contemplated this boy.

At the end of the service, the pastor made a rare move for him and spoke prophetic encouragement to the congregation. I don't mean some kooky thing, but rather directed truth at us, saying each of us were directly chosen for a purpose, which is a departure from his usual academic expositing style. In the moment I was having, this jumped at me.

Just then, the boy in front of me shot his hands in the air grasping upward. He had not been so dramatic in his movements prior. At that moment, the phrase Faither o' Lichts, in the Scots, reverberated in my mind and I nearly yelled it myself.

The boy's Dad quickly grabbed his arms and lowered them to head off a scene he thought might be coming, and the boy returned to his quiet fidgeting.

But I didn't. I couldn't. I was stifling sobbing heaves and trying hard not to have to walk out of this conservative church with tears streaming down my face.

I made it to the car and broke down. God showed me for the third and most powerful time this week that he is truly everywhere. Nothing escapes his notice or his care. Even when we think we're doing the right thing yet actually stifling him. Even through this young man who no one perceives as capable of teaching us anything. Even in spite of the layers of manmade church crap piled on top of us in attempts to create the experience of greater reality we all need. This boy who is physically incapable of controlling his impulses shames us all in his understanding, and pierces the spring of my dry rock heart in the process.

Faither o' Lichts!!!

Rephrased

So the Fanbase asked me a question about my last post.  Seems it caused some confusion.  This blog is usually a very raw vomiting of my thoughts such that I  rarely remember what I've written once it's posted.  But she is a dear friend and actually engages this rambling enough to think about it (which is saying something) so I went back over my post and am now trying to offer a fuller explanation, which will delve into the theological.

First, let me say that I wasn't making up the ideas I talked about in the last post.  I was merely rumbling them around in my own mind, much like a rat thoroughly inspects its treats before eating them.  The ideas themselves are all well established, centuries-old ideas that have been well treated in Christian record.  They are, in fact, some of the sharper dividing lines between certain large chunks of denominations.  All this to say, I'm not in any danger of moving beyond the lighted sphere of orthodoxy, in the sense that each side of the debate is considered orthodox to some major denominations.  Though if you've only been steeped in one side, the other will no doubt seem nearly heretical.

The funny thing is if you are a Christian, you probably know people whose denomination is on the other side of the fence and never knew there was a fence.  I know for a fact the Fanbase has regularly attended churches on both sides, and judging by her questions, didn't notice.  This is not a slight to the Fanbase.  I mean it only to say, I am struggling with some obscure points of doctrine that mean a lot to me, but won't really impact most people...which is why I hate theology as a discipline in the first place.  End of preface, now the meat.

The struggle for me is over the doctrines of penal substitutionary atonement and imputed righteousness.  These things are endlessly discussed in theological texts, blogs, websites, etc.  So feel free to delve as deep down that rabbit hole as you want.  Here's a good place to start: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/inebriateme/2014/11/thoughts-against-penal-substitutionary-atonement/.  In very brief, the first is a teaching of what Jesus' dying and rising again accomplished and how.  The second is about how salvation works.

Penal substitution says that Jesus had to die to pay for our sins.  The theory, and I stress these are all theories since God didn't see fit to lay it out in long-winded grammar (though I will argue by the end that it is laid out in other ways).  Anyway, the theory says that God is both just and loving.  So he can't abide sin, but he has to forgive it.  To be just, he has to punish the guilty.  But that means killing all his children that he loves.  So God himself decides to take his own punishment for us.  So he sends the aspect of himself known as the Logos or Son to be a human so that he can be fully divine and fully human.  In this way he can 1. support the weight of all humanity's guilt for all sins for all time.  2. take the annihilating punishment of God the Father for us.  and 3. Survive it (the resurrection).  Therefore we as humans can now claim Christ's atonement as ours and are no longer guilty of our own sins, even the ones we haven't committed yet.  God's wrath is satisfied.

This is the doctrine I was steeped in as a kid.  I was trained in theology from a young age and taught to apologize (argue) the faith, since in that particular bent of the faith, it is the duty of every good Christian to be an educated debator for the faith who wins souls by the power of our divinely inspired compelling logic (groan).  But if I'm honest with myself, this doctrine raises so many questions and bad understandings of God.  Of course, I can give you all the answers to dodge the problems, but they are just that: dodges, not resolutions.  Which is probably why that group hasn't won the world in 2000 years time.

For one, how is it just to punish an innocent person?  For that matter, how is it just to let the guilty off because someone else stepped in?  How does that help the guilty get better?  How does that right the wrong they committed?  But worse than that, what does it teach about God?  He seems a twisted father that beats his children black and blue while thinking it's to make them improve.  Or worse yet, the father who beats another kid because his kid did something wrong.  He seems the very opposite of love, or at least schizophrenic about it.  It doesn't at all mesh with the countless verses about love, protection, forgiveness.  In fact, there are far more verses in both the old and new testament that are clearly about God's love and forgiveness and fatherhood than there are verses to support the penal sub model, and those that do could easily be interpreted in other ways.

Moving on.  The second doctrine of imputed righteousness says that Christ's substitutionary work is imputed, put on, the believer so that they are now viewed as righteous in God's sight, even though they are still going to commit sins.  It says that when God looks at a human, he sees the bad we've done, unless we have accepted Christ (done in different ways in various denominations) in which case God sees Christ...in other words, we have a big "PAID" stamp across us, so we're good.  Forgetting the mechanics of this, which are all purely speculation, it still raises many questions, such as why we would be left to continue committing sins?  Why wouldn't it stop?  Why wouldn't it be imputed in a way that it did stop?  It requires some sci-fi time-space disconnect to understand why "new creations" aren't really any newer than the old ones in any humanly discernible way.  I remember the huge let-down when I was baptized and didn't feel any different.  I know some people that kept getting baptized again and again because they felt so much the same they thought it just wasn't sticking, like they were dud dunks.  I felt the same about saying "the salvation prayer".

Not only these questions, but then come the aftermath questions.  Let's say we accept it for a second.  Now what?  Can I just go sin and know it's not going on the record anyway?  Already paid, like a cosmic gift card?  Or do I need to be careful to stay in the salvation?  Perhaps I could get uncovered as easily as I got covered and I'd never know it.  To deal with this, my particular group has ample proof-texts about assurance of salvation to convince us we can't lose it, even if we continue to be terribly bad people.  While others do stress a continuation in faith to keep the record clear.  And still others require a continual re-covering for the new sins.

At this point I should note that the two doctrines are not tied together.  There are denominations who accept one and not the other.

So this brings me to the point of my last post.  I have slowly grown to the point that I can't accept either of the two doctrines.  But what then?  When I try to read the Bible with fresh eyes, I can't hear anything but the old interpretations because I was SOOO steeped in what they mean to the group I was raised in.  So my heart says, "No, it can't be!" and my head says, "But it must!"  And that was what came out in my last post.

Fortunately, I am beginning to see what else is there.  It has taken years of information filtering into my brain, but now it is coming together so that it makes sense.  The trail was blazed by many things that Steve Miegs taught, though I don't know if he remembers them because he was so caught up in the moment when he spoke, I have no doubt he spoke from the Spirit.  C.S Lewis, then laid the real groundwork (I often refer to him as my teacher Jack in this blog) with his talk of halls and rooms and hell being locked from the inside.  The push down the road came from Wayne Jacobsen, who showed me I was not alone in modern times and that if my heart was sick at the system, it was not a flaw in me, but God's truest voice.  Also that what we call churches need not be the Church.  And the fog is clearing at the hands of George MacDonald (Uncle George), who wrote so so many things about this a full two centuries before I would read them.  It is Uncle George who is primarily showing me how to understand the world in this new view.

Of course there have been many others along the way, helping hands and points in the direction.  One of the dearest to me is Dan Dunn, who has never had a shadow of doubt that I was heading right, and never placed an ounce of pressure to do otherwise, even when it forces us to part ways for a time.  He is truly a Christ-like example for me in what it means to love people where they're at.

Which brings me to the summary of this long post.  So what now?  For me, I think we can leave the theology (study about God) and just get to know the real God.  There is only one way to do this.  That is to do what he says.  As Uncle George says, if anyone truly wants to see what Truth might reside in Jesus, he just has to try it out.  There's a reason Jesus didn't leave a theological treatise.  He didn't even write a single word of his own.  He simply DID his work.  So forget the teachings, the processes, the doctrines.  I don't care if you never understand the history or processes, or even call him Lord.  If you want to find out if he was who he said, simply open one of the Gospels and go do what you read him doing.  Simply start with whatever next comes your way.  In whatever way you can act like Jesus, do it and see what happens.  Then do it again and again until you understand.  If there's no value, you'll soon see.  Doing good can't hurt in any case.  But if there is value in it beyond the ordinary good deed, you might just have found the door to the universe.  Work it out and see for yourself.  If you get stuck, let's talk.  No guarantees I'll have an answer, but if God is there, shouldn't he help us find one?

I am convinced, this is the only true means of salvation and I'll go no further for now accept to say that it was proven for me in one simple sentence when a dear friend was downing Christians and then said to me, "but you and your wife are the most Christ-like people I've ever met.  You actually live it."  I almost cried right there on the street.  There could be no better compliment for me and no better proof amidst all my doubts.

The Way

Imputed Righteousness.  This seems hokey to me.  It's never been well explained.  Just the kind of theological leap they put together to fill in a gap in a system.

I feel that I understand the reality of things in an inexplicable way, but what salvation and faith are, then needs expressing and I can't get away from the training I was steeped in...which is the imputed stuff.

But now, I am having a glimmer of something new.  I believe it deep down, like I said, but am not sure I can express it fully yet.

Uncle George has been helping me.  He said through Robert Falconer that imputed righteousness is a lying doctrine.  That we must all be clothed with the righteousness of saints, our own righteousness, not someone else's.  This seems to make so many things fit together better.  I am not magically made clean, but strangely left the same through some wonky time-space split.  That's sci-fi!  But if Galatians 2:16 says (and indeed the Greek does bear it out) that we are saved through the faith OF Christ, not IN Christ as the modern translations put it, then salvation and the work of Christ were truly to be the first fruits.  Not to substitute innocent for guilty in some blood-lust psycho fantasy, but to pave the way.  His perfect faith in his father to save him shows me how to have faith in him and his father.  He makes the unknowable knowable and I am being made righteous.  Not instantly, but throughout my life.  I am being finished, perfected.  We all are.  Christ shows how that works, what that means, and makes it possible.  But my sins are my sins.  I must reap what I've sown; only through that, I can rise as Christ has.

So is my salvation through faith?  Absolutely.  Christ's faith, and in kind, my faith.  This perfect faith tells me I am in good hands and that frees me to act in ways that repair and grow me.  My work in it is not to say some stupid prayer like a magic incantation.  It is not even to believe without doubt, like wishing on a star.  But neither is it to earn my place.  It is simply to do as my big brother has done.  To learn to submit myself fully to what God has made me to be.

And this is done, as James says, by working out my faith in actions.  The actions God places before me to do, small or big, in every moment.  Without schemes and angles.  Helping when help is needed.  Patient when sick.  Compassionate with those who need it.  Ethical at work.  Gracious when driving.  Quiet when rest is required.  In doing the will of his father, Jesus demonstrated his faith.  I must do the same.  In this I find the only proof available that my faith is not in vain, but it is the surest proof.

So this understanding unties faith and works, explains the cross and faith, clearly shows what is good about the "good news" in a way that any person can see (not just those who contort in theological ways like Candide's teacher.) And gives clear direction for my life.  And does so in a way that doesn't require any unnatural explanation.  Even the simplest person could grasp it.  How is this wrong again?

God take me ever further up and further in.  Help my reply to the rhetoric to be my actions for you.  I am your sheepdog.

Roots

I have been reading another George MacDonald book.  Uncle George does not disappoint again.  This one, I've been putting off since it doesn't seem like something I'd like at first blush.  It's called the Vicar's Daughter, and it's described as a Victorian novel.  Hmmm.  Need I say more?

But as usual, when the time is right things fall into place and I went ahead to read it.  Also, per usual, I found that the stereotype of "Victorian" is far from the truth.  Certainly this book was written in the Victorian era.  As such it has a certain defined social code, etc.  But humans are human and I find all the fun, struggles, loves common to all people.  However, literary critic I am not, and so I won't belabor this.

What really has taken me is the thorough similarity of the characters with my own time and viewpoints.  I don't mean this to say I have an old-fashioned mindset.  I'm far from a traditionalist,and am not very sentimental.  But I grew up in a prosperous country on the teeter of decline, in a middle class family, right as the notions of an older generation were passing away from our culture.  I moved naturally from this to a countercultural worldview we call punk.  I grew up into a productive member of society with a family, though not shedding my ideals to do it.  This book focuses on just the same class of people in the same situation.  What I call punk, they call Bohemian, but the description is almost identical...obviously, not the appearance specifically, nor the music, etc.  But the ideals and the manifestations of those ideals are the same, even down to the shockingly reproachful clothes .

But even more than this is the similarity in faith.  While I had known my views were part of an unbroken chain of truth and truth-seekers extending back into prehistory, I had not known that it was so well documented and articulated in such a similar way.

Of course, I should not be surprised.  If Truth is Truth, it ought to manifest itself in very similar ways where conditions are similar.  And that is what I find here.  In fact, I've felt this once before, when reading Augustine.  At that time, I attributed it mostly to an above average translator whom I thought must have been able to make the ancient writing open to modern ears.  But now, I'm reading native English, close enough to my own dialect as to be totally intelligible in the writer's own words.  So I am forced to see what was obscured before.

In fact, the book sits so well with me that I'm finding it nearly a handbook for my place in life right now.  Things I have thought, said, done, wished for, are here presented in very nearly the exact same way more than a hundred years before.

I had previously blogged about uncanny similarities in MacDonald books.  But now I am certain that time has no meaning for those of us who live with eternity in view.  I do not doubt that Uncle George is presently aware of this very blog entry and my connection with his work.  For all I know, he may be communicating to me from his books, or we may share a spirit in some fashion.  Perhaps through the same mechanism, albeit a far more profane version of the connection between John the Baptist and Elijah.  Though this is more likely a metaphorical fancy than actual fact. Nevertheless, I shouldn't be surprised by this kind of connection amongst those who live in Christ.  Aren't we parts of one body?

Anyway, what I'm taking away from this book is uniquely mine, and too much to recount here.  But perhaps the greatest thing is that I now feel certainly confirmed in my brand of faith.  If it has existed for so long in so precisely the same fashion, I can safely put aside doubt.  I had feared it was my own personal religion built of my peculiar brand of rebellion and whimsy, well fortified with bricks of prooftext and the mortar of complex self deceptions.

Now I can safely stand out on it and believe I am not alone and not in error.  There have been, are, and will be those who are made like me, believe like me, and I am confident enough to cast my lot in with them for good or ill.

Thank you George.  And thank you God.  The former for being the instrument and the latter for being the wind that sounds it in answer to my prayers, even across the nonexistent gulfs of time and space.  When I meet you face to face, we will not in any way be meeting for the first time.

Speak

Today as I was reading George MacDonald, a scene leapt off the page and pierced me right through.  I could quote it, but it wouldn't possibly have the same effect as when it happened, so I won't bother.

Let me start at the beginning.  I'm reading At the Back of the North Wind.  From the very first, the description of the North Wind was remarkably like a sort of person I envisioned in a story I was writing once before.  It was not so much a story, but a vision that seemed to want telling.  Sort of like CS Lewis' image of Aslan that sparked the Narnia series.  Of course I didn't know about Aslan and Narnia at the time. 

Anyway, I tried to write a story about it, but the story wouldn't carry.  It was really just this impression of a person.  It's uncanny that more than a hundred years before, George MacDonald wrote a story about a character who looks nearly exactly as the one I saw.  But muses and all...

So today I read a scene where North Wind says something that I very nearly said verbatim last year.  Lest you think it's a common phrase that would naturally repeat, I'll tell you more.  In the book, North Wind is leading Diamond (the child) across the high ledges of a cathedral.  He's afraid he'll fall and she chastises him for not trusting her.  He tells her he's not trusting because he may falter.  And she replies that even if he fell and she lost her grip, she'd be after him such that she'd catch him before he hit the ground.  And last year as my Goddaughter was afraid of falling out of a boat, I assured her that if she began to fall out, I'd be in the water before she got wet.

But this is only the precursor.  A sign post that had me taking notice so I wouldn't miss what was coming.  In this same scene, the words then jumped out as Diamond and North Wind talked of previously being higher and unafraid, but now being afraid of falling into the deep empty church.  The lines were as if spoken to me.  I know what they mean and it is beyond the story.  This is exactly my apprehension of late.

But then North Wind leaves Diamond to make his way on his own, saying "Come after me".  He is afraid, but then she blows a gentle puff in his face and he draws strength and moves forward.  The blowing increases always gentle, but fortified with strength, and steadily infuses him as he moves.  Right here is where it pierced like an icicle of light right into my brain.  My eyes welled and overflowed.  God was speaking these familiar words directly to me in that moment.  I know the voice.  I know the reaction.  Call it crazy if you want, but it happened.  It's not the first time.

This can be confirmed because it is timely.  As I face trepidating circumstances, struggles with my place in the Kingdom, concerns over being alone, comes this necessary and direct comfort speaking to all of them perfectly and deeply.  I don't expect you to understand, and I don't seek your approval or acknowledgement.  Call me heretic even.  This was for me.  God speaks.  Not just through some systematized list of methods, not even through one collection of writings.  He speaks whenever and however He chooses, to whomever He chooses.  And His voice is unmistakable. 

I go no further than this.  But no less far.

I don't know where or how, but I am linked to George and Jack and Henry and Theresa and Francesco.  And I hear you God.  I am coming after you across the buttresses and ledges and spires.  I won't fear falling, nor the empty church below.  My place is in your wind, whipping full around me.  Help me never forget.

Horse

"But a false sense of power, a sense which had no root and was merely vibrated into me from the strength of the horse, had, alas, rendered me too stupid to listen to anything he said."

The quote above is from Lilith, by George MacDonald.  In this scene, Mr. Vane has been defeated and tricked by Lilith, and Mr. Raven is taking him to his house from which he fled in the first place.  Mr. Raven summons his horse, which is dark and spectral yet powerful beyond knowing to ease the journey of the weary Vane to his house where he must sleep.  Vane and the horse instantly bond and once on his back, Mr. Vane decides to leave Mr. Raven against his advice.  Raven cautions it will be to ruin again.  And then this quote.

The book in general is already one of my favorites ever and I haven't even finished it yet.  It has been speaking to me in so many ways.  But this line struck me today.

In this blog, I have recorded mere months ago the sense of triumph and power that I had been feeling.  While I had known it was from God, and not of myself, I, like Vane, couldn't help feeling as if it was mine.  When in fact it was only borrowed...no, not even that much possession.   The power was no more mine than is the strength and stamina of a powerful horse on which a man happens to sit.

Even then, in my deep heart I knew it would not last.  But how my vanity has cost me.  What damage I may have wrought in myself, my family, and those I love.  Feeling emboldened like never before I took actions and harboured feelings of authority that were not mine.

To the casual reader, this will seem different than it is.  I don't mean that I did any overtly egregious thing.  In fact, like Mr. Vane, my intentions were all honorable and above board.  I would fix what was wrong where my influence fell and would use this power to do so.  I didn't even "fall from grace" in the sense that we use it for leaders who make a public mistake.  No, it is far subtler.  Far more difficult to see, and therefore all the more damaging.  Like the loose screw in the engine that is so easily overlooked and yet once failed, will bring down the entire machine.

And yet in this realization, I am not even crushed.  Repentant, yes, falling on the grace which saved me, and intent to be better and to learn, but resting in the knowledge that it is ok.  My failing has not one bit thwarted the will and plans of my God.  He will right all wrongs and preserve His children from undue harm.

Perhaps I am also McDonald's stupid philanthropist who would use the grace given me to spare those within my influence from the very thing most needful: that which would be the vehicle of their healing.

All traces of my vanity must die.