A Child with Down’s and an Immigrant Woman: Future King and Queen of the Universe

Onward.jpgSometime around the middle of the first century A.D., James, who was a brother of Jesus, wrote to a group of Christians warning them about the sin of partiality – that is, showing favor to the rich and powerful at the expense of “those who are poor in the world” (James 2:5). In doing this, these Christians were forgetting that God sees people differently from how the world does, flattering and exalting the wealthy, the impressive, while ignoring and forgetting the poor and the weak, the unimpressive.

I love how Russell Moore puts this in his excellent book Onward (B&H, 2015), using the theme of the kingdom of God to show us how our thinking about who’s important who is not can become so contrary – and because of this, twisted and ugly – to the way things are in God’s kingdom. Check it out:

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“The kingdom of God changes the culture of the church by showing us a longer view of who’s important and who’s in charge.

“The kingdom of God turns the Darwinist narrative of the survival of the fittest upside down (Acts 17:6-7). When the church honors and cares for the vulnerable among us, we are not showing charity. We are simply recognizing the way the world really works, at least in the long run. The child with Down syndrome on the fifth row from the back in your church, he’s not a ‘ministry project.’ He’s a future king of the universe. The immigrant woman who scrubs toilets every day on hands and knees, and can barely speak enough English to sing along with your praise choruses, she’s not a problem to be solved. She’s a future queen of the cosmos, a joint-heir with Christ” (82).

Top 5 Books of 2015

1. Jefferson’s Books by Douglas WilsonJefferson's Books

I picked up this monograph at Monticello, and at least for this lover of books, it was delightful. Douglas Wilson shows us the founding father as reader and book collector, featuring images of his reading lists and diagrams classifying types of knowledge (Jefferson was a great list maker and was perhaps most himself when classifying things). This treatment of Jefferson and his books was generally educational, practically instructive, historically interesting, and above all, fascinating. “As Jefferson’s library revealed,” Wilson writes, “books were for him not ornaments but instruments for coming to terms with the world.” (See my blog post on this book here.)

 

origins2. The Origins of Political Order by Francis Fukuyama

The eminent political scientist of “End of History” fame does it again. Here he traces the development of political institutions through world history, beginning with our hunter gatherer ancestors and showing how the first modern state developed in China, rule of law in India, and an accountable state in Europe. Fukuyama is nothing if not ambitious, drawing on disciplines as varied as anthropology and evolutionary biology to offer a unified theory of state formation and political stability.

 

 

gilead3. Gilead by Marylinne Robinson

Everyone and their aunt had recommended this novel to me, so I finally read it, and I was captivated by its penetrating beauty. Robinson masterfully gives voice to a Midwestern preacher in the last days of his life who is writing to his young son, offering an account of his times that showcases Robinson’s eye for the terrible beauty that imbues so much of the ordinariness of life. The Washington Post was right in saying of this book that “one feels touched with grace just to read it.” This is a generations-spanning family drama that does the soul good. (See my blog posts on Gilead here, here, and here.)

 

 

BTWAM.jpg4. Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

If nothing else, Ta-Nehisi Coates is a fearsomely powerful writer. His June 2014 Atlantic cover story “The Case for Reparations” sparked a national conversation on the notion that Americans need a reckoning with the legacy of racism and injustice against blacks. Between the World and Me is a harrowing meditation on what it means to be black in America and what this says about America. Coates’s words are a cry of protest and an indictment on our nation, which he says was built on the backs of blacks, whose “bodies,” as he so frequently writes, remain completely unsafe from the depredations of a thoroughly racist system. (See my blog post on this book here.)

 

 

republocrat5. Republocrat: Confessions of a Liberal Conservative by Carl Trueman

In this book Trueman, a British transplant and professor of theology and church history, skewers Left and Right as he calls on Christians to engage politics intelligently and responsibly. A pro-life, pro-traditional marriage supporter of stricter gun control and universal healthcare, Trueman brings the valuable perspective of a foreigner, one who is also a careful thinker and is concerned more with responsible Christian engagement with political issues than with who is up or down in the perpetual war between Democrats and Republicans. At least for this lover of all things political, this book is a helpful tonic that cuts both ways and encourages me to engage more thoughtfully, carefully, and even lovingly.

C.S. Lewis on How Christianity Creates, Rather than Solves, the Problem of Evil

LewisThe problem of evil (“If God is all-good and all-powerful, why is there evil and suffering in this world?”) has for good reason been called the Achilles’s heel of Christianity. I agree with various Christian authors that we actually do not have an “answer” to the problem of evil; yet, we have various truths and clues which can help us, if not solve this problem, come to accept it and ultimately put our confidence in something higher, which is the absolute sovereignty of a perfectly loving and wise God (Exhibit A of this for me is the life of Job).

Early in his book The Problem of Pain (1962), the beloved Oxford don C.S. Lewis flips the classic question of the problem of evil  to show that the real problem isn’t, why is there evil in the world, but rather, in this terribly broken world full of suffering and evil, what do we do with the fact of this religion – Christianity? I think this is a good way to look at the problem, and I’ve come across this elsewhere, usually phrased to the effect of, “If there is no God and the universe is the product of a series of chance events and there is no reason to believe in an objective morality or good, why do we see so much good in the world? Why do we see kindness, and heroism, and self-sacrificial love, and indeed, so much beauty?” But I really like the way Lewis puts it. Check it out:

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“To ask whether the universe as we see it looks more like the work of a wise and good Creator or the work of chance, indifference, or malevolence, is to omit from the outset all the relevant factors in the religious problem. Christianity is not the conclusion of a philosophical debate on the origins of the universe: it is a catastrophic historical event following on the long spiritual preparation of humanity which I have described. It is not a system into which we have to fit the awkward fact of pain: it is itself one of the awkward facts which have to be fitted into any system we make. In a sense, it creates, rather than solves, the problem of pain, for pain would be no problem unless, side by side with our daily experience of this painful world, we had received what we think a good assurance that ultimate reality is righteous and loving” (21).

Beauty in “Gilead”: Part 3

gilead

Hello, again!

In recent days a couple of friends asked me if I’d been keeping up with my blog, which brought to mind that indeed, since this unusually busy fall semester began, I’ve broken one of my 2015 resolutions: To post here at least once every two weeks. (My last post was over a month ago.) The good thing is that this pushed me to do this third and last post on Marilynne Robinson’s breathtakingly beautiful, and beautifully written, Gilead (Picador 2004). To re-cap, the book is written as a series of letters from a father who is soon to die to his young son, and in it he speaks of his father and grandfather who, like him, are preachers, and of the ties, and loves, and even sins, that bind these generations. Like the first two I shared, I love this excerpt for the way it captures beauty – the beauty that a man beholds in the woman he loves, the son he cherishes – and which he connects to God, its source, in a most appropriate expression of gratefulness and awe.

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“I can tell you this, that if I’d married some rosy dame and she had given me ten children and they had given me ten children and they had each given me ten grandchildren, I’d leave them all, on Christmas Eve, on the coldest night of the world, and walk a thousand miles just for the sight of your face, your mother’s face. And if I never found you, my comfort would be in that hope, my lonely and singular hope, which could not exist in the whole of Creation except in my heart and in the heart of the Lord. That is just another way of saying I could never thank God sufficiently for the splendor He has hidden from the world – your mother excepted, of course – and revealed to me in your sweetly ordinary face” (237).

Beauty in the Novel “Gilead”: Part 2

gileadOne of the striking aspects of Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead is its particular concern for the beauty of this world, a thing made that much more beautiful, Robinson suggests, because it is a temporal experience never to be had again once we find ourselves on the other side, that is, in eternity. Check out this gorgeous excerpt, again from the voice of John Ames, who is writing out his soul to his young son, knowing his end is nearing:

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“I feel sometimes as if I were a child who opens its eyes on the world once and sees amazing things it will never know any names for and then has to close its eyes again. I know this is all mere apparition compared to what awaits us, but it is only lovelier for that. There is a human beauty in it. And I can’t believe that, when we have all been changed and put on incorruptibility, we will forget our fantastic condition of mortality and impermanence, the great bright dream of procreating and perishing that meant the whole world to us. In eternity this world will be Troy, I believe, and all that has passed here will be the epic of the universe, the ballad they sing in the streets. Because I don’t imagine any reality putting this one in the shade entirely, and I think piety forbids me to try” (57).

Beauty in Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead: Part 1

This year I finally read Marilynne Robinson’s gileadcelebrated Gilead (Picador, 2004). This is a deeply beautiful novel, written as a series of letters from a dying father to his seven-year-old son. The setting is 1950s Iowa and the father is one in a long line of ministers, so themes revolving around faith and theology, sin and redemption, are prominent throughout the book. Robinson has been rightly praised for writing a book which, as the Washington Post put it, is “so serenely beautiful and written in a prose so gravely measured and thoughtful, that one feels touched with grace just to read it.” It is this “touch of grace” that I was most impressed with: It is as if hundreds of pages in this book drip with beauty, with words capturing the quotidian glory of, say, the reflection of light in water as a baby is baptized, or the quiet courage of a woman (the narrator’s wife) whose uniquely trying life demanded of her a special courage. In this and I hope two more posts I’ll share excerpts that are representative of the profoundly beautiful and in many places intimate language that Robinson is known for. This first excerpt is the opening paragraph; I especially admire the rhythm of the dialogue in the first lines:

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“I told you last night that I might be gone sometime, and you said, Where, and I said, To be with the Good Lord, and you said, Why, and I said, Because I’m old, and you said, I don’t think you’re old. And you put your hand in my hand and you said, You aren’t old, as if that settled it. I told you you might have a very different life from mine, and from the life you’ve had with me, and that would be a wonderful thing, there are many ways to live a good life. And you said, Mama already told me that. And then you said, Don’t laugh! because you thought I was laughing at you. You reached up an put your fingers on my lips and gave me that look I never in my life saw on any other face besides your mother’s. It’s a kind of furious pride, very passionate and stern. I’m always a little surprised to find my eyebrows unsigned after I’ve suffered one of those looks. I will miss them.” (3)

“Smart” Men Wouldn’t Have Written the Bible

BibleIn his helpful and encouraging book, Why Believe the Bible?, John MacArthur gives reasons why we can believe that the Bible is the inerrant and authoritative word of God, and describes the importance and benefits of knowing and studying the Bible for the Christian life. In it he answers the charge made by many that the Bible isn’t actually God’s words, written down by common, sinful, yet Spirit-inspired men, but that it’s merely the thoughts of men – admittedly, men of great intellect and literary genius. The charge may be expressed as: “The Bible is full of errors and mistakes and it certainly is fallible at many points, but in regard to its ethics, its morals and its insights into humanity it reveals genius at a very high level.” So MacArthur, I think very reasonably, responds like this:

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“[This view] doesn’t hold up. For one, smart men wouldn’t write a book that condemned them all [see Romans 3: 9-18]. Smart men wouldn’t write a book that provided salvation from the outside. Smart men want to provide their own salvation; they do not want to have to trust in a perfect sacrifice made by God’s Son. And one other thing: Even the smartest of men could never conceive of a personality like Jesus Christ. Even the most gifted fiction writer could not fabricate a character who would surpass any human being who ever lived in purity, love, righteousness and perfection.” (46-47)