Monthly Archives: February 2012

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Words & things

It’s intriguing that (at least) three Bible words have dictionary definitions that include word and thing.

That is, when found in the native environment (in a sentence, not in a dictionary – the zoo for words), it’s possible that each of them could refer to speech, or to an object. For example, in Luke 2:15 the shepherd go to see ‘this thing’ (τὸ ῥῆμα τοῦτο) that has happened: the birth of Jesus. In Luke 2:19, seeing Jesus, the tell others about ‘the saying’ (τοῦ ῥήματος) that was spoken to them.

It’s odd to me, because I am used to dividing between words and things. My words are not reality, and things do not become so simply because I say so. A human promise is good, but not always trustworthy.

That’s where God is so different. When God speaks, it happens. He rules by his word. Likewise, ‘the thing’ exists because God announced it. God’s words are reality.

So I tried to put together a visual to help me. Here it is.

You can see the three Bible words in the middle, one Hebrew and two Greek. Above and below are the two concepts that they link: word and thing. The arrows on the sides try to express how word and thing relate (theologically rather than linguistically).

On the right: the word spoken is fulfilled, and thus becomes a thing. God’s word become reality. Perhaps that thing is a physical object: Genesis 1’s ‘Let there be … and there was …’ Perhaps the thing is a state of affairs: ‘I have set my King on Zion’, or ‘You will be my people and I will be your God.’

On the left, the thing only exists because it was announced in God’s word. Creation is contingent, not self-existing. Creation depends entirely on God’s word. Christ upholds everything ‘by the word of his power’ (Hebrews 1:3).

This helps me to see the link. Even more, it helps me to give thanks to God – his word is true, trustworthy and real. What great confidence we can have in the words of our Father!

Preaching: the best way to learn is …?

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At regular intervals, people involved in serving churches (whether paid or not) get told how people learn. We hear that listening is ineffective. That seeing is better. And that doing is best of all.

Then follows a therefore moment. Quite often, it’s something like: therefore we now know that sermons and preaching are ineffective, and we should try something else. Strangely, this whole argument is always delivered in speaking-listening mode. Rarely visual, never by doing.

I’ve always been troubled by the apparent equating of preaching with teaching/learning of content.

So I was intrigued to read the following quotation, from Animals in Translation by Temple Grandin. (Grandin is also the subject of the title story in Oliver Sacks’ An Anthropologist on Mars.)

observational learning. When it comes to evolutionary fears, as well as to many other areas of learning, animals and people learn by watching what other people or animals do, not by doing something themselves and learning from the consequences. I have the impression this lesson hasn’t been absorbed by most educators. You read that hands-on learning is best, but that may not always be so.
p. 210

The examples she gives centre on people and animals learning to fear something without ever having had a related bad experience. For example, lab monkeys with no fear of snakes learn to fear snakes by watching the fear reaction of wild-reared monkeys upon seeing a snake. The fear was caught, not hands-on.

As Grandin sardonically puts it, ‘Presumably most people with fear of flying, just to give a common example, have never come close to crashing.’ (p. 211)

Which brings me back to preaching. My personal concern in preaching is not that people will remember a sermon. My prayer is that preaching will change lives, by God’s grace. Memory might be a tool God uses to help someone, but it’s not the goal.

Allowing for the fact that Grandin’s observation is only for some types of learning, I suggest there’s a useful observation to make about preaching. One part of preaching, in my view, is that listeners catch and follow the example of the preacher.

That is, preaching should model prayerful, willing and submissive listening to God’s word. Preachers, to some extent, are a picture of the obedience of faith that follows gospel proclamation. Preachers train wisdom by speaking the fear of the Lord.

So I’ll keep preaching. All the while, I need to remember that a sermon is less about my text than it is about me as a preacher standing before God.

Quick review: ‘If I we’re God, I’d make myself clearer’

A false syllogism

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Here’s a false syllogism I keep seeing assumed behind various comments (usually, comments from those who concur with what is being called New Atheism).

Science has discovered many truths about reality
Science will discover many more truths about reality
Therefore science alone is sufficient to explain all reality

1. and 2. are true. Still, 3. does not follow. The conclusion, statement 3, introduces ideas not at all part of the two initial statements – science alone, and all reality – and therefore not valid logical inferences.

This is not a new mistake: witness the logical positivists (brief & free definition here). This blog suggests it’s a mistake that will recur, and then be followed by the obvious rebuttals.

There’s nothing new under the sun. Even in anti-God rhetoric.

A testing question

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Here’s a question that won’t wear out with repeated use. It will not grow weaker with age. It will not lose its depth after many visits. It will not be less beautiful after repeated viewing.

A Christian can ask this question to measure almost anything. It is:

What does it do to the cross of Christ?

“If I took that statement seriously, what does it do to the cross of Christ?” “If we believe the Christian life includes X, what does it do to the cross of Christ?” “If I view church/work/family from this perspective, what does it do to the cross of Christ?”

OK, so those are all quite general. Here’s some more meat onto this bare-bones idea.

A lady on a plane, who seemed to consider herself connected to Christianity, told me that she didn’t like the idea of God judging people. I should have asked – but didn’t – “What does that do to the cross of Christ?” Answer: It makes the cross incoherent. If Jesus was not taking God’s judgement, the cross achieved nothing. When the cross is reduced to mere example of love there’s no point in making it necessary (as the New Testament insists) because God shows his love in many other ways.

Someone else complains about raising an old wound and unreconciled relationships. It’s unChristian. What does that complaint do to the cross? Answer: It pushes aside the reconciliation that God so decisively won by Jesus’ blood, and chooses instead to promote the appearance of order over brotherly love.

We could apply this question all over life. Here are some of the many areas.

In questions of theology.
(Wondering if is Jesus is the only way to God the Father. Considering the resurrection as physical or just symbolic. Describing the nature of saving faith.)
In matters of Christian living.
(Can you be a solo Christian, and deliberately ignore church? Do I need to repent of and name every single sin? Can a believer be possessed by evil spirits? I think it’s OK to leave my wife and kids.)
In arranging life together.
(Who can legitimately be part of church? Or who can help lead ministries? Are there areas in which we can co-operate with people of different beliefs?)

It’s useful, I believe, because it’s a weapon with live ammunition. People sometimes raise the question of ‘God at work’ – a good weapon, but not loaded. Unless God’s work is well-defined, perceiving God’s hand relies on vague feeling or unjustified guesses. When we turn to the heart of God’s work (à la 1 Corinthians 2:2), we have a sure way to seek that which is consistent with God’s self-revelation in the world. The cross is certainly a live truth!

Are there particular places you can see this question being useful? I’d love to know them! Please share with us in the comments section below.

“I know what you mean”

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Unlikely. In my opinion.

Yes, I am a suspicious guy, but if I hear, ‘I know what you mean’, then I guess that it’s probably not true. I reckon we all overreach ourselves in claimed understanding.

I come to this thought after some (well-meaning) comments about me. Firstly, someone said to me, ‘I understand what you say.’ And I thought: the two of us have never once spoken about that issue.

Secondly, another friend spoke to a third party, ‘Chris and I have had a number of good conversations about this.’ When I heard, I thought, ‘We have?’ I recall a couple of brief chats while getting a biscuit at morning tea. They were fine conversational snippets, but not especially deep or probing.

Let me flip the coin over. For both of these friends I have no certainty that I could clearly explain their beliefs on these specific topics.

Then I read this piece by Miachael Duffy. In it he argues that we tend towards explanations too quickly or too easily. That we long for the ‘why?’, without sufficient justification. A sample of this piece:

we often assume we know enough to make a decision or form an opinion when we don’t; we often use dubious rules of thumb as short-cuts; and we often replace a hard question with a simpler one without realising it.

Duffy applies this to politics, but I’m sure it’s also true of everyday relationships. How wise are the many biblical encouragements to listen!

The way of a fool is right in his own eyes,
but a wise man listens to advice.
Proverbs 12:15

When I looked at some of the Bible on listening, a further link was clear. Listening is a hinge in the doorway of anger and punishment. For example, wisdom listens to rebuke (Proverbs 25:12). Or again, not speaking but hearing avoids unproductive human anger (James 1:19-20).

Listening is not simply a matter of communication. It’s a matter of justice.

When I thought of this as a blog topic, I know what I wanted to say: why don’t people listen to me? Now, however, I can see that God wants something altogether more significant: my continued, firm commitment to listen to what people are saying; to understand what can be said, as well as the limits of what remains unsaid.

Oops

A blog by Chris Little