Christians from diverse traditions—Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant—are showing renewed interest in the ancient art of lectio divina (pronounced lex-ee-oh dih-vee-nuh).  Count me among the novices learning this venerable spiritual practice!  This Latin phrase means “sacred reading” or “divine reading.”  Lectio divina is a slow, contemplative reading and praying of the Holy Scriptures in order to encounter God and be spiritually transformed.  Praying Scripture in this way can be practiced individually or in groups.

A rich tradition of lectio divina is found in Benedictine spirituality (patterned after the sixth-century Rule of St. Benedict) which is widely followed in the present day.  In classical practice, there are four key aspects or movements in lectio divina.  The first is lectio (reading).  The Scripture is read out loud, slowly, deliberately, thoughtfully, and repeatedly.  As we reverentially listen to the text, we seek lovingly to receive God’s Word in our heart.  The second aspect is meditatio (meditation).  We ruminate and chew on the text.  We ponder it and reflect upon it, letting the words penetrate our heart and mind.  We consider our life in all its dimensions in light of the text.  We allow God’s Word to become His word to us, transforming and affecting us at deep levels.

The third aspect is oratio (prayer).  We respond to God from the heart in light of His word to us.  We consecrate ourselves to Him, we lovingly yield to Him that He may transform us and draw us into greater intimacy with Himself.  The fourth aspect is contemplatio (contemplation).  We rest in the presence of God, Our Loving Shepherd.  We commune with Him, and lovingly abide with Him.  We wait quietly before Him in a humble, yielded, receptive spirit.  In the words of the psalmist, our soul seeks to “behold the beauty of the Lord” (Psalm 27:4) and to “taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8).  While these are the four core traditional aspects, some writers and teachers of lectio divina highlight additional dimensions.  Operatio (performing) or incarnatio (incarnation) is a living out of the text in daily life.  Collatio (bringing together) is a forming of community through Scripture.

An essential dimension of lectio divina that prepares us to hear God’s Word and permeates the whole is silencio (silence).  Silencio refers not only to an outer absence of noise so that we can read and listen to God’s Word, but more importantly to an inner quieting of the mind and heart so that we are in a spiritual posture of receptivity.  The silence we seek is an internal attitude open to encountering God and being shaped by Him.  We detach from an inner compulsion to control our own life.  We relinquish self-will and embrace God’s will.  We let go of anxiety, protective patterns, defensive patterns, our own agenda, our own goals, and having life revolve around ourselves.  Rather, in silence of soul we seek a joyful surrender of our whole life to God in absolute trust without demands, conditions, or reservations.  We embrace a pliable responsiveness and yieldedness to God.  We seek a deep sensitivity to God.  We rest quietly in God.

The psalmist quieted his soul, trusting and resting in God:  “Surely I have composed and quieted my soul; Like a weaned child rests against his mother, My soul is like a weaned child within me” (Psalm 131:2).

If you would like to explore the ancient art of lectio divina, please join us at Urbana Theological Seminary this summer for the course “Reading and Praying Scripture for Spiritual Transformation (Lectio Divina).”  Together, we will open ourselves to the Lord, crying, “Speak, for Thy servant is listening” (1 Samuel 3:10).

A little over ten months ago I became a father.  My son, Isaac, already lives up to his namesake, commonly filling our home with laughter, joy, and wonder.  So often, when I look into his big eyes or hear his voracious little laugh I am overwhelmed by the innocence of his infancy.  And then sometimes my mind turns to the problems of our world.  If I have the courage to allow it, my heart cries out in anguish when I consider that innocence someday being shattered by those problems.  When will the laughter stop?  Will it change, the wonder and joy slowly drifting away from it?

Years ago, I would listen intently to one of my campus pastors, Wayne, discuss such things as he raised his children.  He told me that he was very careful to shield them from certain things, even going so far to eschew the violence and sensuality in animated features (e.g. The Little Mermaid, otherwise a favorite).  This shocked me, at first.  But Wayne loved movies as much as I.  And, like me, wasn’t one to personally shy away from a more graphic or raw movie if its meaning and morality fell in line with his Christian convictions in some rather profound way.  But he told me that if he showed his boys some of the standard fair out their, in for instance the PG-13 world of the summer blockbuster, then they would be overwhelmed, sometimes even horrified at the images on the screen.

Getting to know children and discussing their viewing habits opened my eyes to the complexities of a much larger problem.  As Christians, how do we live in a world of wickedness and darkness, a world of painful misunderstanding and despair?  And should we ever watch movies that show us something of that part of our world?

We can be misled by the question of moral content in the movies if we become overly concerned by our country’s movie rating system.  That system, implemented by the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) treats the movies and their sights and sounds objectively.  Is there nudity/sex/violence/obscenity or isn’t there?  And how much?  But what about what actually happens to the viewer in the course of watching a movie?  That is a much trickier issue.  It explains why two movies with R-ratings, The Passion of the Christ and Porky’s, draw entirely different audiences who react in totally different ways.

I would like to posit to you that as Christians, the way we react to movies is NOT first and foremost about what is up there on the screen.  It’s about what it does to our imagination.  The Passion moves many to worship.  Porky’s moves many to entertain rather different ideas of lust, violence, and disrespecting others.

When we begin to consider the imagination we enter into a far more subjective realm than the objectivity of the MPAA.  What might be a completely innocuous movie for me might cause my friend to entertain damaging and unhealthy thoughts.  But are our imaginations static and unchanging?  I don’t think so.  I think that they are dynamic, and with maturity and proper exercise in love, compassion, truth, and goodness our imagination can help us see the world with new eyes.  What do I mean by this?

Paul counsels, “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things” (Phil. 4.8).  What do these things have in common?  They are all beautiful.  But what does it mean for something to be beautiful?  Beauty is anything that brings glory to God.  We might look to specific movies for examples.

Consider Chariots of Fire, a movie about Scotsman Eric Liddell, who delayed going to China as a missionary so that he could run in the 1924 Olympic Games.  Why?  Because as he explains to his sister, even though he feels called by God to go to China, he knows that God also created him to be a gifted runner, “and when I run,” says an impassioned Liddell, “I feel His pleasure.”  Liddell’s running brings glory to God.  It is beautiful.  But it is a beauty not found in his work within the walls of a church building, but out on the Olympic racetrack of Paris, France.  The film tries to teach us that God’s glory, God’s beauty, is not only limited to the work of missionaries.  It is in our love and our pursuit of things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely and admirable.

Or consider Saving Private Ryan, a movie that graphically depicts the horrors of war.  Its images are shocking and at times perhaps even overwhelming.  But what is the film trying to do to our imagination?  It tells the story of Private First Class James Ryan of the 101^st Airborne.  All three of his brothers died within days of the American invasion of Normandy.  His mother receives three telegrams, all on the same day, notifying her of this terrifying loss.  And Private Ryan is missing in action.  Our hearts are awakened to the singular pain and despair that is warfare.  They are filled with pity and compassion as we watch seven soldiers brave the unknown to bring this young man home to his grieving mother.  Can you sense the beauty?  It lies in the conviction to bring together a family, to try to bring healing and peace in a most desperate time.  Can that bring glory to God?  I think so.

With practice, we can watch for beauty in movies.  And we can begin to see places in this troubled world that need the love of Christ.  We can begin to understand that even moments of darkness, like those horrors of World War II, can awaken our imaginations to see more acutely the need for God’s glory, opening our eyes to the need for hearts of compassion and pity in a world in need of the love and light of Christ.

And that is what I will tell my son someday when the innocence begins to leave his eyes.  I will tell him of an imagination of beauty, captivated by the joy and wonder of offering the compassion and love of Christ to those who need it.  Just as in my efforts and my prayers, I will try to offer such things to him when he is in need.

This summer I take my first steps in this direction, answering God’s call on my life to be a theologian looking for beauty who discusses where it might be found with others on the same search.  Think of the blessing that can come from watching movies in Christian community.  Get the perspective of brothers and sisters in Christ who may pick up on things you may not see.  I invite you to come explore in more depth and detail what it means to look for and find the beauty of God in movies of all sorts.  Come be a part of the story of beauty I will someday tell my son.  And your classmates be a part of the story you might tell others.  For our story is the Gospel and our darkened world’s need for its light, its beauty.  It is a story that comes to wounds and despair, yes, but that brings joy and wonder and the innocence of a pure heart.

Just a few days ago movie lovers and film aficionados from all over the country made their way to Champaign/Urbana for Roger Ebert’s Film Festival (Ebertfest).  For five days thousands made their way in and out of the Virginia Theatre to see movies selected by America’s foremost film critic for their outstanding worth in the art and craft of cinema.  Just a few days from now thousands more people will make their way in and out of the multiplex nearest you to kick off the beginning of the summer blockbuster season with The Avengers.  It’s debatable what the two crowds have in common.  But I can think of one obvious thing: they love movies.

George Barna offers some striking statistics on our love of movies (Barna Update, July 2004).  Half of Americans cite the movies as one of their top means of entertainment.  Ninety-five percent of American adults will watch at least one movie in a given year, with the average number closer to forty.  And it’s not just for entertainment.

A few years ago, Barna pollsters discovered that at the turn of the millennium, 1 in 5 Americans turned to cultural sources, particularly the media and arts and culture, as their “primary or exclusive means for experiencing and expressing their faith.”  Slowly growing, by 2025 that figure looks to be 1 in 3 (Barna, Revolution, 48-49). If there ever were a time for thoughtful Christian engagement with “media, arts and culture” it might be now.  And the movies top the list. As Christians, what should we make of all this?

A theological study of film does more than look at motion pictures whose stories are about God and religion.  It needs to go further than a search for Christian themes and motifs in otherwise ‘secular’ movies.  First, it strives to understand film in its own right – as elements of culture, products of consumerism, and works of art.  Doing so avoids the temptation to impose our own Christian views and perspectives where they might otherwise not belong.  In doing so, we put ourselves in a position to understand what spiritual experiences people are finding in movies – entertainment and art.  And as Christians with a high view of Christ and Holy Scripture, who are committed to the Gospel, we need to figure out how to respond.  Sometimes we will decide that we are compelled to offer a critique or some constructive (film) criticism.  Other times we might humbly find that we have something to be taught and to learn about how the experience and understanding of God is working itself out in our particular context.

In order to help us do these things, this summer Urbana Theological Seminary will be offering an introductory class on theology and the movies.  We will watch five feature length films together as a class.  Students will also have the opportunity to choose and to watch, as a part of the class, several more films from the comfort of their own homes.  I invite you to come and join our discussion.  To help entice and excite you about the possibilities that await, here is that anticipated list with a few brief notes of where our discussions might take us.

One Night with the King

The Biblical epic remains one of the most successful film genres of all time, with two major Hollywood epics loom on our horizon – Gods and Kings and Noah.  If we adjust film grosses for inflation, the Charlton Heston classic The Ten Commandments remains the 6^th highest grossing film of all time, only recently being edged out by James Cameron’s Titanic and its re-release in 3D.  One Night with the King, an Evangelical Christian production of Esther, didn’t fair as well, at least at the box office.  Why?  What makes for a successful adaptation of scripture onto the silver screen?  What makes a movie ‘Christian’ and how does that impact its reception by audiences?  Can a faithful adaptation of the Bible still score big in Hollywood?

Children of Men

Sometimes the spiritual dimension of mainstream cinema has roots within the Christian tradition.  One striking example is post-apocalyptic fiction.  As a subgenre of science fiction it takes its cues from interpretation and reception of Revelation.  As a motif it uses echoes of the forms, practices, and symbols of religion to help us make sense of the troubled world in which we currently find ourselves.  Children of Men subtly interacts with the Nativity, Apocalypse, and Messianic prophecy on its way to constructing its own understanding of our current and future spiritual condition.  The post-secular spiritual experiences of many American might be post-church, but if they are not quite yet completely post-Christian, then what might they have to say that is worth hearing?  And how might we, as Christians, respond?

Take Shelter

What does it mean for a movie to be art?  How do we understand and interact with art as Christians?  While many so-called “art films” are often derided for being unwatchable, Take Shelter is a riveting and engaging drama that will have you on the edge of your seat.  This is a movie that I hesitate to say much about because the experience of watching it can be so powerful.  We’ll discuss science and faith, work and family, and even a few issues of current political controversy – just to name a few!

The Passion of the Christ

Eight years removed from the Ash Wednesday release of the utter phenomenon that was Mel Gibson’s movie we will revisit its meaning, impact, and legacy.  What does this movie try to do to and for the viewer?  Is it inherently a religious experience?  Is it art or worship or some not often seen form of entertainment?  And after all the controversy that has surrounded him these past several years, what do we make now of Mel Gibson and his involvement in this project?  For those of you who missed it the first time, it’s time for you to see what the hype was all about.

The Straight Story

The class’s concluding and summarizing thoughts come by way of a movie and a metaphor.  What do we do with what we hope will be our newfound knowledge of film and theology?  Where do we go from here?  How do we as Christians interact with the movies in a way that brings our Christian faith, hope, and love into the cinematic conversation?  To find out, we will look at an adaptation of a stunning true story and its relationship to a remarkable aspect of our culture’s love of movies.

Intrigued?  Then sign up to join us!

Shortly after J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings were published, C. S. Lewis wrote in a review of the series, “Here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron.  Here is a book which will break your heart.” Since that time, Tolkien’s stories about Middle Earth have drawn in a countless number of readers with their sweeping landscapes, rich histories, and moving characters.  One question, however, has continually been raised ever since their publication: sure, these stories are beautiful, but what do they mean?

Many people, including the original publisher (Allen and Unwin), have argued that The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit are essentially allegories. Those who interpret the stories this way view individual characters as symbols either of specific characters in the Bible, or as symbolic of specific values or ideas.  For example, many have argued that Gandalf, Frodo or Aragorn are the “Christ-figure” of the books, while others have seen Sam Gamgee as a symbol of faithfulness or loyalty. The ring which could destroy all of Middle Earth has been interpreted as sin, addiction, and even nuclear warfare.  While there is much to think about in interpretations that develop these ideas, Tolkien himself did not see his creation as allegory. Instead, he explains in the introduction to The Lord of the Rings, the stories that take place in Middle Earth are better thought of as “applicable” stories.

What Tolkien meant by “applicable” was that instead of looking for the one thing that the author meant by the symbols he uses, readers need to pay attention to the stories themselves, finding which parts of the stories are relevant not only to their own lives, but to their own understanding of the world in which they live.  The point of such stories is not an academic   game of hide and seek in which the author has hidden meaning in certain places, but the point is to lead the reader to re-think his or her own ideas and values.

The applicability of the stories does not, however, mean that anyone can simply find any meaning that they want in these stories. There are specific themes that run throughout them, some beginning in The Hobbit and developing throughout the whole series.  One of the most important themes in the series is forgiveness. While this can be seen in many places throughout the series, one of the more striking places the question of forgiveness occurs is in the relationship between Frodo, who carries the ring that could destroy not only him, but everyone and everything that he cares about, and Gollum. While Gollum is a traitor and a murderer who would love to regain his precious ring, Frodo continually treats him with kindness, at one point even expressing a hope that Gollum can one day be “cured.”  The development of the relationship between these two characters leads not to pat answers, but to questions worth thinking about: can someone such as Gollum be forgiven? If so, what is the cost of forgiveness?  Possibly the most important question that is asked in Tolkien’s fiction, however, is “what does it mean to love your neighbor?”  This question is constantly brought to the forefront through the struggles of Frodo, the self-denial of Aragorn, and the sacrifice of Gandalf.  It can be found every time travelers enter new lands or meet new strangers; it appears every time one character offers an unexpected act of kindness to another.

        The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings do not offer easy answers to these questions. They do, however, require the reader to not only enjoy the world they present, but to think about the implications of the situations that the characters find themselves in. Because of The Hobbit movie coming out this year, this summer Urbana Theological Seminary is offering a class on the writings of J. R. R. Tolkien in order to better examine the questions and themes raised by Tolkien’s stories.

Intriguingly, almost all scholars who write about fantasy, and a large number of authors of fantasy stories, agree that the genre as we know it exists today because of one person: J. R. R. Tolkien. All fantasy literature, it has been said in more than one place, is either written as a response to or a reaction against his stories about elves, dwarves and hobbits adventuring in a land called Middle Earth. Even more intriguingly, until very recently, scholars who write theory about fantasy literature have been expected to begin their work with ideas presented in one essay called “On Fairy-stories,” which was also written by Tolkien.

These two factors alone are enough reason for Christians to take notice of Tolkien’s work, but even more importantly, Tolkien was himself a Christian: in fact, biographies about C. S. Lewis often spend quite a bit of space on the pivotal role that Tolkien played in Lewis’s journey to faith.  It should be, then, no surprise that Tolkien’s fantasy stories are shaped around Christian themes and concepts, while his non-fiction includes a rather well-developed theology of fantasy.

This theology begins in the idea of “subcreation,” a term Tolkien himself coined.  According to Tolkien, “we create because we are created in the image of a creator.”  All of our created stories, then, are subcreations that at some level reflect the glory of our own creator.  This happens in multiple ways: the most obvious is that fantasy stories traditionally follow the same basic plot line of the gospel itself. If he were writing today, Tolkien may well have said that the plotline of fantasy stories, whether they are about hobbits, humans or wizards, is the Christian metanarrative itself.  At the center of this story is the “eucatastrophe.” The eucatastrophe is the moment which must occur in every worthwhile fantasy when, at the very moment when it appears that all that is good has been lost forever and there is no hope left, a sudden and unexpected turn of events catches everyone by surprise. This turn of events gives the reader a glimpse of joy, and leads the characters to the possibility of a happily ever after. In the epilogue to “On Fairy-stories,” Tolkien explains that this reflects the eucatastrophe in human history: the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Christ himself.

In order to help us think more fully about these issues, this summer Urbana Theological Seminary will be offering a class on the writings of J. R. R. Tolkien. In this class we will not only read The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and a few other texts written by Tolkien, but we will be exploring the implications of his theology of fantasy for the Christian life.  Other things we will do in this class include (but are not limited to) discussing the Christian themes in the stories about Middle Earth, as well as analyzing the films based on these books, focusing on how the films reflect differences between Tolkien’s worldview and that of the culture in which these films were made.   Please join us for this adventure!

This week’s blog is a first person imaginative re-creation of the events of the first Easter Sunday morning, told from the perspective of a woman who was part of the circle of Jesus’ followers.  On this Sunday morning, she accompanied Mary, the wife of Clopas, on the journey into town and to the Garden.  Happy Easter!  Jesus is risen!

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Friday was such a horrible memory . . . couldn’t it be blotted out?  Our dear beloved rabbi, executed as a criminal, the gore and the agonizing pain of a cross.  All our dreams and hopes dashed.  The Sabbath was a nightmare, spent sobbing at John’s house in the city.  Some of our group had distanced themselves safely away from the city in Bethany on the other side of the Mount of Olives.  Mary and I had waited until sundown of Sabbath to walk the short distance over the Kidron Valley and up the hillside to join them.  Her husband Clopas was sheltered here too.

Today a new week began, the promise of going on with life holding no allure for any of us, all defeated followers of the Rabbi.  Nothing softened the sharp pangs of loss.  Who’d slept anyway?  A night of uneasy half-sleep had been spent listening for the first cock crowing to rouse us for the sad task at hand.  Now the two of us were up and hastily on the road back to the city to complete the customary anointing of Jesus’ body.

Our small band stepped quietly out the door of the modest house in Bethany, a hill and valley away from Jerusalem.  The journey felt like such a burden, carrying what was needed to prepare my beloved master’s corpse for saying a final goodbye at the tomb.  Years, and so much had changed, because I’d been with him . . . but now it was all back to nothing, life seemed quiet, despairing, empty.

It was a spring morning. I could feel the cool early morning air as the first streaks of dawn began to light up the eastern sky.  All was quiet still on the road as Mary and I trudged slowly down into the Kidron Valley, and back up again into the city.  We passed through a city gate, stopped by John’s house, and wound our way through the streets of early morning Jerusalem.  The streets were still quiet—only the first stirrings of a few early risers while most rested on.  I could feel the tension rising inside as my steps kept on up the rise in the ground approaching the gate into the burial place.

We walked briskly through the stone arches, as I wiped away a bitter tear and averted my gaze down to the ground and away from the stakes of the wooden crosses still in the ground, standing empty now.  Empty crosses—there to evoke all the raw pain yet afresh.  Wooden poles—standing for the violent end of cherished dreams of the future.

I nervously stepped up the rise and looked down the narrow pathway leading to the tomb in the green garden.  My hope was that the gardener would be there already to help us.  There’s no chance we could roll that huge stone aside from the entrance.  My muscles tensed, my heart raced.

No!  Nothing more on top of all we’ve hurt through.  The big rock is rolled aside!  What?  Is the body alright?  But we left everyone else behind, so no one could have gotten here ahead of us.  Who’s been here?  Now running, head throbbing, no idea what this may signify . . .  there’s nothing there.  Peering in the door.  There’s no body at all!?  No body anymore??  Wait, who’s that?   I’m not sure.  An intruder?  The gardener?  In a white robe?  Wait, saying something.  Urgent words, powerful voice.

“Don’t be alarmed.  You’re looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified.  He has risen!  He is not here.  See the place where they laid him.  But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee.  There you will see him, just as he told you.’”

I was recently asked to speak about the “Great Sins” of the church in history. What are we to make, as Christians, of the crusades, southern slavery, and the impotency of the German church during the Nazi era, to name just a few of the most egregious actions taken by past Christians? How are we to reconcile the high calling of the Christian church with such blatant social sin? These events raise very important questions about the legitimacy of the Christian gospel and its claims to transform the people of God. Indeed, I have had more than one person, upon discovering that I research, write and teach Christian history, ask me how I continue to be a Christian. That is a serious question that is raised by seekers and skeptics alike. Here are a few of my thoughts on the matter.

It has been my observation that when the church perpetuates, or even creates, grievous social sins, it is usually an indication that a serious compromise has been made with a current or dominant ideology (a way of viewing or understanding the world) of the era. For sure it is always difficult to see how the church is compromised during the time in which you live. This is why we always need prophetic voices speaking scriptural truth to the church, even when it is unpopular. Still, it seems to me that an overriding reason for the horrible acts perpetrated by Christians is strongly related to the embrace of false ideologies.

So for example, while it is helpful when reflecting upon the Crusades to remember that this was part of a larger battle spanning over 500 years between Christians and Muslims, that alone does not get us to the underlying cause. What is more important to consider is the adoption among Christians of the Middle Ages of the idea that there was such a thing as sacred space, a unique place where God was to be worshiped, a sacred space above other spaces. True among Jews and Gentiles, it was not to be true for Christians. In John 4:21-23 Jesus declared to a Samaritan woman, “Believe me, woman, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem…the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth….” The Crusades were a misbegotten attempt to take land thought to possess a sacredness – a place of pilgrimage – that no longer applied to the Christian. Sacred space was an unbiblical idea, steeped in the belief systems (ideology) of the ancient world, which compromised the church. Certainly there were other reasons for the Crusades, even other false ideologies, but at its root the crusading spirit was energized by the false idea of sacred space as it related to the Holy Land.

A second example involves the institution of slavery in the southern states of America during the 19th century. The strongly evangelical South created a false ideology, even a false god, when it combined its evangelical beliefs with a nationalism that was based on racial superiority and purity. During the 19th century the European identification of nationalism with a specific race grew in prominence. This had an impact on southern apologists. Interestingly enough the defeat of the South in the American Civil War did not have sufficient force to end the false god of southern nationalism. It simply took a different form known as the Lost Cause, notwithstanding the freeing of the African-Americans slaves. Compromised by the ideology of racial nationalism, southerners missed the clear biblical truth that God is bringing together all peoples, Jew and Gentiles, to form a new people (Eph. 2). It would be another hundred years before the stranglehold of Jim Crowism was broken, and then another 30 years before black and white churches started to hold reconciliation services. The work is still not complete.

My final example considers the Christian church during the era of Nazi Germany. Though a few brave souls such as Dietrich Bonhoeffer stood up against Nazi terror, it is nevertheless true that the Christian church as whole, including most individual Christians, succumbed to serving the brutality of the Nazi regime. While it is true that Hitler and the Nazis were a deeply Anti-Christian movement, the root cause of the church’s compromise runs deeper still and in a different direction. The German church had drunk too deeply of modernity. On one level, the mass industrialization of Germany played a role in the Holocaust. The approach to the mass killing of the Jews operated on the same level as regular factory work. Creating a rational process that was efficient, impersonal, and which segmented a person’s role along a long assembly line of activity, highlights the role that modern industrial processes played in the Holocaust. But deeper still was the role that modernity played in the dismantling of orthodox and biblical Christianity in German seminaries and pulpits. By the time of the coming of Adolf Hitler, much of the German church stood like an empty vessel ready to be filled up by a false god.

Viewing the social sins of the church as periods when the church compromised with current and even dominant ideologies has been helpful to me as a Christian historian. The problem has never been the gospel teachings of Christ and the apostles, but the tendency among Christians to syncretize their faith with worldly ideologies. Of course, this should not negate all the great contributions that Christians have made to the world. Nonetheless, it should cause us to evaluate ourselves and see where we might be compromising with the unbiblical ideologies of our own day.

The back of our favorite Celebrate Recovery tee shirt simply says “God Never Wastes A Hurt.”  Celebrate Recovery is a ministry that brings hurting people together to guide us through a scripturally based road to recovery process, so that we can live the lives that God intended for us.

I was led to Celebrate Recovery through my own battle with alcoholism and the failed self-serving issues that led me to a life I do not want to return to.  As I have shared many times in my testimony, my internal battle was living with one foot in the world and one foot in God’s Kingdom.  As hard as I tried, God finally won the battle.  In my head I already knew that, but I had to experience it before I could believe it in my heart.  During my own recovery process I became totally committed to the Twelve Step Program of Alcoholics Anonymous.  Millions of people have experienced dramatic changes in their lives by “working the Steps” as we say in AA.  It is a fantastic program of recovery that I have recommended to many people battling the disease of alcoholism.

Many people begin the Twelve Step program with little or no belief in God, much less a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.  I have witnessed many who started out like this and gradually began to understand who our higher power really is.  Celebrate Recovery differs from the secular Twelve Step Program because Jesus Christ is our higher power rather than a higher power of our own understanding.  Celebrate Recovery also differs in that we bring people together dealing with all of life’s issues.  No matter what the issue – alcohol, food, financial stress, co-dependency, anger, abuse, childhood abuse, sex, the internet, you name it – God wants us to take a different path.

Celebrate Recovery began twenty years ago and was founded by John Baker, a recovering alcoholic himself, with the commitment and endorsement of his Senior Pastor, Rick Warren of the Saddleback Church.  Rick Warren states that he believes Celebrate Recovery is unlike any other recovery program, and has seven features that make it unique:

1. Celebrate Recovery is based on God’s Word, the Bible,
2. Celebrate Recovery is forward-looking, focusing on the future rather than the past,
3. Celebrate Recovery emphasizes personal responsibility,
4. Celebrate Recovery emphasizes spiritual commitment to Jesus Christ,
5. Celebrate Recovery utilizes the biblical truth that we need each other in order to grow spiritually and emotionally,
6. Celebrate Recovery addresses all types of habits, hurts and hang-ups, and finally
7. Celebrate Recovery is a leadership factory.

Celebrate Recovery is now an important ministry in over 13,000 churches now reaching into other countries.

So if you are curious, here are the Twelve Steps and their Biblical Comparisons:

1. We admitted we were powerless over our addictions and compulsive behaviors, that our lives had become unmanageable.  Romans 7:18
2. We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. Philippians 2:13
3. We made a decision to turn our lives and our wills over to the care of God.  Romans 12:1
4. We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.  Lamentations 3:40
5. We admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.  James 5:16
6. We were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.  James 4:10
7. We humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.  1 John 1:9
8. We made a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all.  Luke 6:31
9. We made direct amends to such people whenever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.  Matthew 5:23-24
10. We continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.  1 Corinthians 10:12
11. We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, praying only for knowledge of His will for us, and power to carry that out.  Colossians 3:16
12. Having had a spiritual experience as the result of these steps, we try to carry this message to others and to practice these principles in all our affairs.  Galatians 6:1

Step Twelve is why I am committed to serving in this ministry.  Come join us.

Windsor Road Christian Church, 2501 Windsor Road, Champaign
Every Friday Night 5:45 – 9:00 PM
Dinner 5:45 PM
Worship 6:30 PM
Lesson or Testimony 7:00 PM
Breakout Groups 7:30 PM
Fellowship 8:30 PM

 Multiplying When Light is Dim.  I just counted.  It’s 177 plus three more.  But that’s just upstairs in my home office—I’m always uncovering more hiding in the basement.  When I go downstairs, quickly turn on the light, and scan those delightful bookshelves, I see more of them scattered among the books on prayer, books on spiritual formation, books on spiritual direction, and books on vocation.  Books on “How to Find God’s Will” seemingly multiply in the dark.

When the light on our path is dim—when shadow pervades—questions seemingly multiply in the dark.  Lord, am I doing the right thing?  Should I be going a different direction?  Please, Lord, illumine my path—I am confused.  Shepherd—are you guiding me?  Could You please speak up?—I’m having trouble hearing You.

Accepting Incompleteness.  We may wish for a mechanical procedure that would always tell us to turn left or turn right in life.  I loved mathematics in college.  I delighted in the elegance, definiteness, and certainty of conclusions reached!  Then Kurt Gödel with his incompleteness theorems burst my bubble—even modest mathematical systems can neither prove every mathematical truth in the system nor prove their own consistency.  If mathematics is incomplete, it is no surprise that ordinary life leaves us with decisions, choices, and pathways that involve mystery and uncertainty.

Some of the 177, plus three more, books on “How to Find God’s Will” emphasize rational, cognitive, Scripture-based factors for acting in wisdom, while others highlight subjective movements of God within our own hearts—perhaps an Ignatian discernment of consolations and desolations in the soul.  Yet, wise decision making does not reduce to a mechanical procedure that yields sure guidance—rather, we have to discern and affirm a course of action.

Character to Discern and Affirm.  In four texts describing wise decision making, the Apostle Paul uses a verb which means to “discern and affirm” (or “test and approve” or “carefully determine“).  He urges believers at Thessalonica to “carefully determine everything, hold fast to the good” (1 Thess 5:21-22).  He prays that Philippian believers may “discern and affirm the things that are best” (Phil 1:10).  He commands Ephesian believers to walk in the light so that they will “discern and affirm what is pleasing to the Lord” (Eph 5:10).  Paul exhorts believers at Rome to yield fully their lives to the Lord and let their minds be transformed so that they will “discern and affirm the will of God, which is good, pleasing, and perfect” (Rom 12:2).

The foundation of wise decision making is not procedure or method.  It is character.  In all four of these ancient epistles, Paul takes pains to shape his readers to be more like Christ in heart, mind, words, and actions.  It is within the context of character formation that he exhorts them to determine what is best.  From a heart and mind saturated with God—from Christ-like character—a believer can discern and affirm a wise course of action.

Lord, Think through Me.  Amy Carmichael, missionary to India for 55 years without a furlough, entreated the Lord, “Holy Spirit think through me till your ideas are my ideas.”  Let us be shaped—through trials, through the valley of the shadow, through perplexity, through difficulty—to increasingly have the mind of Christ, the heart of Christ, the character of Christ.

When light on my path is dim, as questions multiply in the dark—as I reach for the 177, plus three more, books to help—might I accept that the Loving Shepherd is transforming me to share His character so that I might discern and approve what is pleasing to the Lord.

Shepherd, indeed you are guiding me!      

Cycle 1 — The water cycle.  My family raises potatoes on a farm in Northern Wisconsin, a state that receives about 30 inches of precipitation annually and sits upon 1.2 quadrillion gallons of underground water . . . enough water to cover the state to a depth of nearly 100 feet.  Life-giving water, falling from the sky, enables the spuds to sprout and taters to thrive.  Having completed its vitalizing work, this water returns to the atmosphere through evaporation and plant transpiration.

Agrarian Hebrews, living over 2500 years ago in the Ancient Near East, were no strangers to this hydrologic cycle.  In the poetry of Isaiah the prophet, YHWH, the God of the universe, refers to this pattern, “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, . . . ” (Isaiah 55:10; NRSV here and throughout).  This description emphasizes the impact of the water.

Cycle 2 — Personification of the divine word.  YHWH uses the pattern of the water cycle to highlight the guaranteed effect of His spoken word.  The poetry of Isaiah continues, “So shall My word be which goes forth from My mouth; It shall not return to Me empty, Without accomplishing what I desire, And without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it” (Isaiah 55:11).  The comparison is explicit (a simile: “as . . . so“).  The spoken word of God is personified, depicted as a divine emissary, an agent who acts and accomplishes an assigned task.  The word “goes forth” and is “sent” by God for a specific divine purpose:  “what I desire” and “the matter for which I sent it.”  The word will “return” to God.  By repetition, the text lays stress on the success of the divine word’s mission:  “not return to Me empty,” “accomplishing what I desire,” and “succeeding.”

This apt analogy, rooted in terra firma, transcends to teach the certain fulfillment of the Sovereign’s spoken word.  First, in the immediate context of Isaiah, YHWH’s promise of future salvation for Israel, and secondly by extension, to all of God’s word.  Prayerful reflection on this artful text rightly leads us from delight to worship.  Still, the Divine Poet is not yet finished with this canonical motif of the personified word.

Cycle 3 — Incarnation of the Divine Word.  In the Fourth Gospel, John presents the mission of Jesus on the model of God’s effective, personified word from Isaiah 55:11.  Jesus is depicted as coming into the world  (John 1:9; John 11:27; similar in John 1:14; John 3:13, John 3:17, John 3:19; John 6:14, John 6:33, John 6:38, John 6:41-42, John 6:50-51, John 6:58; John 8:14, John 8:23, John 8:42; John 9:39; John 10:10, John 10:36; John 12:46; John 16:27-28; John 17:8, John 17:18; John 18:37).   Jesus is sent by the Father (John 3:17; John 4:34; John 5:23-24, John 5:30, John 5:36-37; John 6:38-39, John 6:44, John 6:57; John 7:16, John 7:28-29, John 7:33; John 8:16, John 8:18, John 8:26, John 8:29, John 8:42; John 9:4; John 12:44-45, John 12:49; John 13:3, John 13:20; John 15:21; John 16:5; John 17:8; John 20:21).  Jesus is portrayed as returning to the Father (John 6:62; John 7:33; John 8:14, John 8:21; John 13:1, John 13:3; John 14:1-3, John 14:12, John 14:28; John 16:5-10; John 20:17).

Most significantly, the Apostle John characterizes the Son of God as doing the Father’s will (John 5:30; John 6:38-39; John 8:29) and accomplishing the Father’s purpose:  “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work” (John 4:34), “The works that the Father has given me to complete, the very works that I am doing, testify on my behalf that the Father has sent me” (John 5:36), and “I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do” (John 17:4).

Before the eyes of John and the other first century witnesses, literary personification present in ancient Hebrew poetry quite literally came alive, walking among women and men.  What do you call such a one, an agent sent into the world by the Father, returning to the Father, and accomplishing all of the Father’s purpose?  The disciple whom Jesus loved, steeped in the Holy Scriptures, calls Him exactly what the ancient text calls such a divine emissary, the “Word” (John 1:1; Isaiah 55:11).

Water and Word—sent from heaven—giving life.

“The Word became flesh and lived among us” (John 1:14).  And that is no small potatoes.

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Urbana Theological Seminary is pleased to introduce Peter Spychalla, Ph.D., as the newest member of our faculty.  Dr. Spychalla has taken the position of Assistant Professor of New Testament & Spiritual Formation.  Prior to this new appointment Dr. Spychalla has been a Lecturer at Urbana Seminary since 2008.  Dr. Spychalla earned his Ph.D. in New Testament from Wheaton College and is completing a D.Min. in Spiritual Formation from Lincoln Christian Seminary.  As part of his introduction to the Urbana Seminary community we have asked him to write the next two blogs for “A Word from Urbana Seminary.”  Dr. Spychalla lives in Normal, IL.  When you get a chance please join us in welcoming Peter to his new position at Urbana Theological Seminary.