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As the last days of 2020 are cycling, the end of this
year is going to be far from over—not everlasting but long-lasting. 2020
will only pivot in apparent celebrations at 11:59pm, December 31st.
Few of us have likely experienced a more historic year, and its effects
will be simply uncertain to predict. We have seen the best in persons
and the worst, which may be amplified in what is witnessed in the
future.
Now that the United States’ epic election is over, we can
add that scene (though incomplete) to the current chapter of the human
drama. I’m tempted to let out a great sigh of relief, but then reality
gains control. How many other scenes (personal or public) can you also
add to fill in our chapter of this drama? Are there harbingers pointing
to what’s next to come?
Those of us living in California (my wife and I in
southern), in 2020 have experienced record-breaking wildfires, extensive
heat waves and the worst air quality in our history annals—all
compounding the COVID-19 pandemic, not to mention our economic woes.
Besides the physical toll these conditions have had on our nation, we
can’t forget the emotional stress and pain they have had on us, which
now includes experiencing election stress disorder. Yet, a common
thread that ties together these scenes in our conversation is how
politicized all these issues have become in public discourse.
Politics, of course, is a necessary part, and thus way, of
life that maintains the human order. Whether that human order sustains
the order created by God, however, has always been a critical issue in
human history. We even have to ask to what extent existing politics even
reflects the created human order.
The human order created by God involves politics, on the one
hand, while on the other hand it is inherently not politicized.
That is, this human order does not include a political spectrum,
therefore it is neither amenable to nor subject to any political views
that don’t at the very least reflect God’s order for human life. When
the human order is politicized—as observed today both locally and
globally—the human order is reduced to the fragmenting chapters (both
present and past) of the human drama. And partisan politics unavoidably
keeps reflecting, reinforcing and sustaining our human condition.
So, what’s next now that the election is over and 2020
closes? Will we pivot into a new future or merely recycle by repeating
the past? Stepping forward into the new or stepping back and falling
into the old are crossroad issues that all Christians need both to
account for in our way of life and be responsible for in everyday life.
Therefore, we personally and collectively as church must face the
following: (1) give account of where are we going from here on, and (2)
be responsible for what are we going to do in our daily way of
life—questions needing real and not ideal answers.
The Certainty of Uncertainty vs. the Uncertainty of Certainty
Most, if not all, Christians subscribe to some level of hope
composed from their faith. The significance of this hope is measured
less by its theological validity and more by how it influences our
everyday life in reality, not in spiritual ideals. Some Christians use
Jeremiah 29:11 as their reference for hope, which always challenges them
during times of uncertainty. Others experience degrees of “hope deferred
makes the heart sick, weary, anxious, dissatisfied” (Prov 15:22),
and thus they redefine their hope in what “is seen” (Rom 8:24). This
raises the critical issue for what’s next in life: the tension and
conflict between ‘the certainty of uncertainty’ and ‘the uncertainty of
certainty’, and their competing influence on our daily lives.
As we enter into the uncertainty of the days ahead,
Christians need to honestly account for their hope in everyday life and
openly address where they place their hope from day to day. Whether we
are aware of it or not, admit to it or not, Christian hope can become
politicized, and current partisan politics among Christians is a prime
indicator that it indeed has. How all this plays out in what’s next for
Christians, regardless of our theology, will determine the identity of
our faith and its significance in daily life. As the writer of Hebrews
made definitive, “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and
certain of what we do not see” (Heb 11:1, NIV). On the basis of our
personal faith, therefore, are we moving forward to a new future or are
we set on duplicating the past?
Some Christians have faith in the process of science for the
certainty of human progress. Others put their hope in single-issue
politics (notably abortion) and have faith in the uncertainty (such as
human fallibility) of those who promote such a policy. Still others try
to balance the certainty-uncertainty of where they place their hope for
everyday life and what they put their faith in daily. And some work on
integrating their faith and hope on the basis of the primary of life by
integrally subordinating and integrating what’s secondary in life to its
primacy as defined only by God. What all these persons need to
distinguish is certainty from uncertainty.
Right now what’s next is uncertain—that is, the immediate
future is unpredictable, no matter what we believe and hope for. Yet,
consider these examples: health science predicts with certainty the
uncertainty of the pandemic, as cases rise to record heights and a
vaccine is on the horizon; and climate scientists predict the certainty
of climate change and its outcome on the uncertain state of the
environment; pro-lifers act with certainty that abortion decimates human
life, even at the expense of the uncertain quality of human life
deteriorated by neglect of other life issues; some Christians and
churches proclaim the certainty of individual freedom and religious
liberty, while having no certainty about their impact on each other and
others to reinforce and sustain the uncertainty of the COVID-19
pandemic. So, what’s certain and what’s uncertain? And how certain would
you be about your answer?
What’s next for us will be largely determined by what we
consider certain and uncertain; and, as Christians more than anyone
else, we are responsible for sorting out the difference between them
without bias, then accountable for their outcomes.
Many claim that their view on life matters/issues is true
and thus has certainty. This certainty, however, does not insure that
the source of their information and position is based on certainty. In
the cyber world of today dominated by the internet, misinformation and
disinformation have become a new normal, in which many put their faith
blindly and base their hope without scrutiny. Therefore, without the
credible certainty of the source, the views concluded are nothing more
than opinion, the nature of which always bears the uncertainty of
truth and making any truth-claims without valid basis. Accordingly,
Christians have to examine their views in everyday life and their
beliefs about daily life, in order to understand if they are in reality
subscribing to the certainty of uncertainty.
Christians would not dispute that Jesus is the source of
truth and thus has certainty, which he embodied in his way and life (Jn
14:6). Many, however, experience or fall into an uncertainty of his
certainty in his way of life, emerging especially during adversity or
hardship. Jesus’ main disciples were no different. When he vulnerably
revealed to them the whole truth of his person, they had uncertainty
about the certainty of Jesus (Jn 14:6-10). Jesus didn’t expect them to
have blind faith in his source as truth, or to base their hope for
what’s next without scrutiny. He stated with objective clarity: “Believe
me [i.e. relational trust]…or at least believe on the evidence of the
miracles themselves (Jn 14:11, cf. 10:25-26,38). The certainty of the
Word—both embodied then and palpable now—has no greater and deeper
counterpart, whatever the uncertainty of what’s next. Therefore, the
credible certainty of his source is irreplaceable for this
uncertainty of the certainty, which Christians today are both
confronted with to claim and challenged by to proclaim.
Distinguishing the uncommon peace Jesus brings with
certainty from the uncertain peace the world gives (Jn 14:27) enables us
in our uncertainty to claim his certainty in these tumultuous days. On
the basis of our relational trust placed in the whole person of Jesus’
certainty, we then are able to proclaim the certainty of our hope in
times, conditions and experiences of uncertainty (as Peter challenges, 1
Pet 3:13-17).
Nevertheless, in everyday life Christians still turn, and
even cling, to some semblance of certainty with a basis only in
uncertainty—as stated earlier “hope deferred makes the heart….” This has
narrowed down our faith and reduced our identity to what are essentially
politicized alternatives of hope for what’s next. This is not a modern
phenomenon for God’s people. Indeed, it emerged when Israel disputed
God’s governing process for their human order, whereby they demanded a
king to rule over them just like all the other nations of the world (1
Sam 8:4-20). It was Israel’s politicized hope to become a nation-state,
the certainty of which evolved only in irremediable uncertainty that
continues to devolve today in the so-called Christian nation of the
United States—which, like Israel before, is now proclaimed by
contemporary Christians that God ordained.
The
uncertainty of politicized hope, no matter the certainty
ascribed to it, has had far-reaching repercussions on God’s people
before and the kingdom of God. What past consequences can be seen (and
presently already exist) for what’s next in Christians and churches? In
the shift to the politicized hope of having a human king lead them, the
source of influence on God’s people becomes apparent. Politicized does
not mean that they suddenly embraced politics to guide their life.
Politics, as God ordained to govern the way of life of God’s people, was
already in force in the kingdom of God. But, this uniquely distinguished
way of life was influenced by the politics of surrounding contexts (all
having kings), whereby God’s people shifted and favored that partisan
political position. This shift may appear reasonable, if not
justified—as partisan politics would claim today—based on the dominant
norms of that time. What they favored, however, was uncertainty over
certainty, which appeared certain by using a near-sighted lens of
presumed certainty over uncertainty. The consequences are history, the
lessons of which elude the awareness or understanding of Christian
political engagement today.
The consequence foremost for God’s people was distinct but
subtle: Partisan politics became their new religion, in spite of
their tradition or orthodox theology. Why and how? Because in their
actual everyday faith practice influenced by the dominant political
norm, they essentially “have rejected me, the Lord God, from
being king over them” (1 Sam 8:7). In other words, though not readily
apparent past or present, in this new religion partisan politics became
their way of life, which Jesus ongoingly confronted during the
incarnation and Paul contended with in the early church (e.g. 1 Cor
1:10-13; 3:1-4).
Further consequential for God’s people is the uncertainty
experienced in the past and relived further in the present. As narrated
in the OT books of Samuel and Kings, the evolving of politics among
God’s people became controversial, contentious and even insidious,
though perhaps not as much as today. Politics devolved as different
kings didn’t often follow the rule of law, that is, God’s Law and not
merely human law. Though the political climate certainly wasn’t as
partisan as today, the visible tension and distinct conflict over
politics were set into motion both to define the identity and to
determine the way of life for God’s people—all in the presumption of
certainty based on consequential uncertainty.
Christians and churches today are immediately confronted
with our history and urgently challenged for what’s next. Do we continue
to circulate in uncertainty and repeat the misguided faith of the past,
even with the certainty of good intentions? Or do we learn from this
uncertainty in the past and move forward (not around) to the new future
based on the certainty constituted only by God, even in the midst of any
uncertainty (personal or public) currently experienced?
Taking for Granted Our Theology
Christians often take for granted that as God’s people, God
certainly supports them in their way of life. This certainty is further
presumed notably when no disapproval is apparent from God about their
views in everyday life—thus adding God’s approval to their assumptions.
What evolves in this process is the subtle condition that Christians
take for granted their theology in their everyday way of life. What
appears to have the sanction of God’s Word is simply presumed to be in
harmony with their theology, whereby the essential understanding from
theological examination is taken for granted.
When Israel demanded a king according to the political norm
of their time, they simply assumed God’s sanction because God didn’t
deny them their request (1 Sam 8:22). Accordingly, they took for granted
their theology and continued to shape their identity as God’s people on
the basis of this common political way of life (sound familiar?).
Consequently, they didn’t apply the essential theology of God’s way of
life to what they wrongly assumed was indicative in their now common-ized
(no longer holy as uncommon) way of life. Without the integral
clarification and correction provided by the theology that established
them unequivocally as God’s people, their identity could no longer be
clearly distinguished as God’s in (1) their way of life and (2) their
faith, the everyday practice of which subtly shaped the faith of
biblical theology into what amounted to a new religion.
In the early history of this reductionist process under the
influence of surrounding politics, God afflicted his people or allowed
them to be afflicted in this human condition. The purpose of their
Father’s discipline (cf. Prov 3:11-12; Heb 12:7-8) was in order that (1)
they would learn and understand the depth of God’s Rule of Law for the
human order, and (2) thereby they would wholeheartedly embrace the full
significance of the irreducible and nonnegotiable terms for God’s way of
life (as summarized in Ps 119:33-34, 67,71,75). Unfortunately but not
surprisingly, the history of God’s people reflects having to learn the
hard way as they repeated theological errors and practice mistakes of
the past. Sadly but not surprisingly, there were periods in church
history when church leaders were just left to their own devices to bear
the consequences of recycling the past in their theology and practice.
There are two prominent examples that provide significant lessons from
the past for us to learn in order not to repeat the past in what’s next.
First, after God’s people returned from exile in their
political history, Second Temple Judaism emerged (notably in the
intertestimental period) as Jews were faced politically with Greco-Roman
rule and oppression. However, since God’s people had yet to learn and
understand from their past, the rule of God’s Law still didn’t prevail
in their way of life. Underlying their tradition, which merely simulated
the appearance of God’s Law (as God exposed, Isa 29:13; Mk 7:6-11),
their politicized new religion prevailed in formulating their messianic
views and expectations. The certainty of their messianic hope was
composed in the uncertainty that the messiah would assume control over
Greco-Roman domination. Without the clarification and correction from
their theology constituted by God, they falsely presumed that Messiah
would free them and usher in a kingdom to rule the world. Of course, the
messiah of this new religion was incompatible with the Messiah embodied
by Jesus. And Jesus encountered ongoing conflict with these people in
their bias, who identified as belonging to God (e.g. Jn 8:33,39,41)
because they took their theology for granted and didn’t learn from their
past. What can Christians today learn from this history to help us in
what’s next?
The second lesson unfolds from the 4th century of
church history, in which the church was shaped into Christendom; and
some dimensions of this are still witnessed today. The church was
designated to determine the political way of life of the Roman Empire,
as Constantine devised. Conversely, it was assumed that this political
way of life would define the church’s way of life. It was taken for
granted that this was ordained by God, who would establish the kingdom
of God in this political shape throughout the world. Constantinianism
effectively ushered in a new Christian religion that constructed the
ideal of Christendom. In the process, Constantine romanticized
Christendom and thereby oversimplified the kingdom of God; this involved
reducing the theology and practice of God’s kingdom, which set in motion
its reduction ever since. This is evident in the various narratives that
have circulated through history by manifest destiny, colonialism, and
evolving to the current exceptionalism and nationalism of the U.S., all
presumed to be ordained by God.
The official U.S. political policy is the separation of
church and state. This political norm, however, is skewed, if not
inconsistently applied. Most on the side of state keep the church
separate in public discourse, though they may use the church when it
serves to their advantage—as observed in past politics. Many from the
church depend on the state to enact their values, while an increasing
number (notably among evangelicals) openly support the state to advance
Christendom—as amplified in this past polarized election. On the one
hand, Christianity has become a civil religion; on the other, many
Christians and churches have taken their theology for granted and
practice a politicized religion (i.e. no longer nonpartisan), which has
left them susceptible to the theological errors and practice mistakes
witnessed in the above history.
The political theology of Christendom takes a lot for
granted and makes far-reaching assumptions about God’s Word that have
basis only in uncertainty. The perceptual-interpretive lens used to
formulate these views is biased according to the surrounding
socio-political culture. Thus, what Christendom signifies for the
adherents of this new Christian religion is having ‘the certainty of the
uncertainty’. Therefore, while this may generate hope for a new future
in what’s next, the reality is that it in truth merely repeats the past.
Christians and churches must not presume the validity of
their political theology, even in spite of its popularity; nor should
they take for granted that their practice is according to God’s Word and
not shaped by the surrounding socio-political culture. Moreover, this
theological conversation needs to be expanded, intensified and deepened.
Why? Political theology should not be a specialized branch of Christian
theology, but in truth it is at the heart of the way of life for God’s
people. Accordingly, we need to develop our political theology in the
explicit primacy of God’s integral Word (not partial or selective), and
then integrate all the secondary in life to what is primary for God’s
way of life. Without this clarification and correction for theology, our
explicit or implicit political theology is susceptible to using
misinformation; and any misinformation for theology composes a gospel
that becomes indistinguishable from fake news, which is validated by
unexamined faith. Countering such theology and practice in his manifesto
for discipleship (the Sermon on the Mount, Mt 5-7), Jesus made
imperative for his true followers: “Seek first the kingdom of God and
his righteousness, and all these things [i.e. the important secondary
matters of life] will be added to you”—but not at the expense of the
primary (Mt 6:33). The priority of what’s primary to God was neither
optional nor negotiable for Jesus’ followers because this primary is the
certainty he constituted for our political theology; the primacy of this
theology and practice thereby distinguishes our identity as God’s family
and determines our way of life for the new future of what’s next. Jesus
unequivocally summarized this relational outcome, as well as the
relational consequence for those who take their theology for granted and
make invalid assumptions for their practice (Mt 7:21-27).
The Future of the Past
If this past new-normal election is a clear indicator of
what’s next, I am deeply concerned (not anxious or depressed) about the
uncertainty of both the U.S. and the church. While neither reinforcing
Christendom nor separating church and state, there is a vital
relationship between church and state that Christians and churches need
to take critical responsibility for. For our involvement in this
distinct political process, however, to be of significance both for us
and to God, our way of life is required to be distinguished unmistakably
in, with, and thus as God’s way of life. The problem with the future of
what’s next centers on the past, that is, beyond the past discussed
above.
The future is never separate from the past, though we may
disconnect the latter in discourse about the former. The future depends
on the past distinctly in terms of what we do with what is the factual
history of the past. Thus, we need to understand the past (immediate and
distant) in order for the future of what’s next to be significant for
our way of life. The future of the past is essential for the
Christian way of life to reflect, reinforce and sustain God’s way of
life rather than the human condition’s way of life. And the
distinction from the human condition becomes blurred when Christians
don’t or are unable to account for the past; the history of the past is
instrumental and formative for the identity and function Christians
engage into the future. Not accounting for the past is symptomatic of a
theological fog enveloping Christians in a new religion that evolved
from the wrong roots of the past.
A new religion can appear to be the old religion,
notably if its theology seems to be the same. The issue, however, is
what defines the identity of a new religion and determines its function.
This raises the distinction between the religion distinguished directly
by God and any new religion shaped by human workings. In the psalmist’s
discourse on the primacy of God’s Rule of Law (Ps 119), the defining
past resonates to the forefront to determine the future: “Your decrees,
statutes, law, are my heritage forever; they are the joy
of my heart. I incline my heart to perform your statutes, precepts,
law forever, to the end” (119:111-112). This heritage constitutes
who and what we, as God’s people, are descended from—the past which is
definitive for the certainty of the future. Jesus finalized this
heritage for political theology and made the certainty of the future
contingent on the certainty of this defining past for the way of life of
his true followers: the righteous whole of who, what and how they are
that is clearly distinguished from the diluted righteousness reducing
adherents to a new religion (Mt 5:17-20). The embodied Word from God
made irrefutable the integral future of the certainty’s past for what’s
next in the way of life for his true followers, not just any followers.
Certainly, Christian practice is found
along a wide spectrum, and our ways of life are other than monolithic to
validate any stereotype. Yet, all Christians today need to reexamine the
heritage assumed for their faith—necessary if they are not to practice a
new religion. The heritage of God’s Rule of Law, of course, was the
major issue of contention that Jesus ongoingly encountered with those
publicly recognized as God’s people but who, in historical fact,
practiced a new religion (e.g. Mk 12:28-34). This issue continues to
evolve today, noticeably as conservative Christians increasingly engage
in partisan politics and even leading the way to intensify polarizing
conditions. Moreover, this contrary witness is observed not only in the
political arena but also widely observed in a politicized COVID-19
pandemic. During this uncertain health crisis, many Christians and
churches have pushed and fought for personal freedom and religious
liberty. Presuming their heritage demands it, their identity and
function have given primacy to and revolve around the American heritage
of civil law, all at the expense of their well-being as well as others’
that integrally centers on God’s Rule of Law.
Since God’s Rule of Law is the primary
heritage for the Christian faith, and since Jesus emphatically made
imperative to “love your neighbor as well as your enemies…” (Mt
5:43-45; Lk 6:27-28), how well does this heritage currently define
Christian identity and determine how Christians function? Is our
political (or public) theology based on this heritage, or have we taken
for granted that our practice reflects God’s Rule of Law?
As referenced above, when Jesus
encountered another member of the governing judiciary, an important
example of reexamining one’s heritage is provided for us (Mk 12:28-34).
This adherent to a new religion set aside his bias revising God’s Rule
of Law and carefully listened to the Word for clarification, perhaps
even for correction. Receiving that from the Word in the unequivocal
relational terms of God’s Law, this presumptuous expert of the law now
understood what is primary in God’s Law, realizing its contrast and
conflict with the secondary aspects advocated by his new religion. This
restored his heritage to the irreducible and nonnegotiable nature of
God’s Rule of Law, from which his identity and function in everyday life
would now reflect “the kingdom of God” (as Jesus highlighted, v.34).
Setting aside one’s bias and listening
carefully to the Word—no matter how much theological expertise is in
one’s possession—are critical for the Word to clarify and correct
anyone’s theology and practice (as Jesus made axiomatic, Mk 4:24-25).
Evangelicals (of whatever variation) are identified as “people of the
Book,” with the Bible considered to be inerrant by a majority of them.
But, an essential difference needs to be made between (1) referencing
information about God in the Bible for our theology and practice, and
(2) relationally responding to the communication in relational language
from God revealed in the Word, namely embodied by Jesus to constitute
our theology and practice in the wholeness of God (as in Col
3:15-16), not in mere information about God. Which of these
interpretive processes describes how you relate to Scripture and what
composes your faith?
In spite of having identification with
the Bible and having that information about God to refer to as needed to
support their way of life, many evangelicals (unintentionally or
unknowingly) have actually turned to a “new” Christian religion under
the assumption that their practice follows the Word—taking for granted
that their theology is biblically based. Yet, what’s primary in God’s
Rule of Law has either been ignored or misrepresented by the secondary,
consequently their true heritage has been displaced by misplaced
heritages (both religious and civil). Unlike the legal expert listening
carefully to the Word, what the Word tells these presumptuous followers
of Jesus is this relational reality: In spite of all their practice in a
biblical way of life, “I never knew you” (Mt 7:22-23; Lk 13:26-27). To
expand Jesus’ axiom (Mk 4:24): “The Word you listen to is the Word you
get; and the Word you get is the Word you use; thus, the Word you use is
the theology and practice you get—nothing more.”
A critical condition emerging from the
COVID-19 pandemic is the social determinants of health. Social
determinants reveal how race-class factors into the extent of health
care people have access to. Health, in other words, is not just based on
physiology. In the same way, the faith practice of Christians is not
determined foremost by their theology but more so by social
determinants of faith—the surrounding contextual and systemic
factors shaping our way of life. The early church in Thyatira was
examined by the Word’s post-ascension critique of churches, in which he
exposed their social determinants of faith. The church’s practice was
notable: “I know your works—your love, faith service, and patient
endurance. I know that your last works are greater than the first” (Rev
2:19). Nevertheless, the church’s “blue collar” context of trade unions
and their sinful ways shaped how the church functioned in public life.
Accordingly, the Word reprimanded the church for how its faith was
determined, so that “all the churches will know that I am the one who
searches minds and hearts, and I will give to each of you as your works
deserve” (2:23).
Therefore, all Christians and churches
need to reckon with the political and sociocultural determinants of our
faith. Even the popular church in Sardis—perhaps a mega-church by early
church standards—whose brand had a reputation “of being alive, but in
truth you are dead” (Rev 3:1). How so? The Word found their practice
to be incomplete, reduced and not whole according to how he constituted
his church to be (3:2). Likewise, this serves as a contemporary wake-up
call in order for us to return to the irreducible roots of our faith:
the depth of Who and What we have descended from and ascended
transformed, which constitutes our irreducible and nonnegotiable
heritage as God’s people, whom the Word embodied as God’s new creation
family in the wholeness of relationship together created in the
qualitative image and relational likeness of the Trinity.
Nothing less and no substitutes of the
certainty of what the Word constituted (in relational terms, not
referential information) will have the relational outcome of the new
future for what’s next. Anything less and any substitutes will result in
only the uncertainty of what’s next and will be consequential for
repeating the shortcomings of the past. Therefore, neither our theology
nor our practice should ever be taken for granted or merely presumed.
Requiem for Hope, Referendum for Change
Christians and churches observe another
Advent season. For this atypical year in particular, we have to
seriously ask ourselves the question, “The Advent of what?”
As we close out 2020, one thing is
certain: What’s ahead is uncertain; and it should be obvious to us by
now that our hope for tomorrow can only be a dream, because 2020 will
not end. That is, the events witnessed and experienced in 2020 will not
end until pivotal changes are made—even with the election being over and
a coronavirus vaccine soon to begin. Whether realized or not, all
Christians and churches are at the forefront of these pivotal changes
both within themselves and encompassing their surrounding contexts. Our
hope for tomorrow is contingent on the pivotal changes first within
ourselves, just as the Word corrected any misguided followers in the
measure of faith practice they use: “Why do you see the speck in your
neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can
you say to your neighbor, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye’, while
the log is in your eye? You misguided or misled Christian, first
take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take
the speck out of your neighbor’s eye” (Mt 7:3-5). Indeed, the measure of
faith practice we use is the measure of change we get, and the measure
of change we use is the measure of hope we get!
The witness of Christians and churches
in 2020 has been revealing of the measure used for who we are and what
we are doing as people of faith. Who and what we have demonstrated in
these polarizing times rightfully raises questions by neutral observers
about the integrity of our faith, if not also bringing us shame in the
eyes of the public. Furthermore, in this post-Christian period—notably
populated by the majority of unaffiliated millennials—the non-Christian
opinion is validated that our faith has no significance to warrant their
commitment. Thus, we are faced with the reality of our equivocal witness
that rightfully needs to question if there is any valid basis for hope
in continuing who we’ve been and what we’ve been doing. Or, ask if there
is validity in the fact that we need to change—not just any change or
some changes, but pivotal change—that is, turn-around change, which
brings the redemptive change of the old dying so that the
new is raised up. Without redemptive change the new normal
churches of today are headed for repeating the old of the past in what’s
next, regardless of whatever expectations they may have for the new
future.
Redemptive change wakes us up to more
than the Word’s clarification and correction. Going deeper, this
irreplaceable change makes us vulnerable to the Word for the relational
connection necessary to be transformed from inner out (in contrast to
outer-in changes), in order for the Word to constitute us (integrally
both individually and collectively) as his new creation family (2 Cor
5:17). This complete change and whole relational outcome, based on
nothing less and no substitutes, then becomes the certainty for our hope
in the new future of what’s next—thereby putting the uncertainty
of the old recycling into its whole context.
Redemptive change, therefore, is the
referendum for change confronting all Christians and churches.
However, so that we don’t subtly reduce the substance of redemptive
change to anything less or any substitutes that promote illusions of
transformation and simulate its practice, we need to have a distinct
requiem for hope that currently enhances or embellishes our faith
practice in everyday life. We need to honestly account for the real
elements of our hope and openly examine them with the Word. This
essential vulnerable process takes us into having a formal requiem for
the hopes that we need to relinquish in order to proclaim their death—an
initial part of the old in us dying. When our dubious, unfounded
and false hopes die, we are ready for the rigorously challenging and
confronting process of redemptive change; ready because we have the
certainty of hope for the relational outcome of transformation to the
new future of what’s next for the new creation. Accordingly without
negotiation, having the requiem for hope cannot be minimized as a
formality but must be integrated with our referendum for change, so that
the transformation is a reality neither presumed nor virtual.
Transformation, however, is not an
ideal that Christians can claim and cling to in their faith. Belonging
to God’s new creation family comes with unavoidable responsibility,
which every family member is accountable to fulfill. This responsibility
may scare a family member or make them feel inadequate, understandably.
But unlike the nuclear family of today characterized by individualism,
each member in God’s family is never considered on the basis of
individualism, though treated with respect and love as an individual
person. Thus, each member is never alone, unimportant or insignificant
in the family’s purpose and future, but rather an integral part of the
whole family—just as Paul made definitive for the church family and
imperative for each member (1 Cor 12:12-26).
The certainty of hope for the new
future of what’s next in the new creation family centers on its ongoing
responsibility. The ongoing responsibility of the new creation family is
nothing less than “the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:17-21), for
which no substitutes are sufficient practice in our way of life.
Reconciling Reconciliation
Sadly in the U.S., the church mirrors
the polarized state of the union. The identity and views of churches
have become politicized, such that they reflect the shade of blue or red
rather than their identity and function reflecting the light of the
Word; this is the Light who shines in the darkness as “the light of
people” (Jn 1:4-5). Light is the essential function that clearly
distinguishes the church’s identity—that is, the identity and function
of the new creation church family of the Word’s true followers (Mt
5:14-16). Is it surprising, then, that because of what churches reflect,
“the darkness has not understood the Light…the world did not recognize
him” (Jn 1:10, NIV)?
The global community is dismayed at the
dystopia they have been observing in the convoluted democracy of the
U.S., the extent of which is circulating more intensely. Now in
post-election, the intensely divided U.S. is greatly challenged to find
common ground for the us in U.S. to emerge as the American
people, in contrast to Republicans and Democrats, conservatives and
liberals, the right and the left, and on and on between the favored one
and the dismissed other. By mirroring the U.S., the church is not only
challenged but confronted by the Word—who “entrusted the ongoing
responsibility of reconciliation to us” (2 Cor 5:19)—(1) to not only
find common ground for the us in the church to emerge, but (2) to
take up our responsibility and be accountable to unite the diversity in
the church and unify each part of the church into the union of the body
of Christ, in order that (3) the church will function as one to
fulfill its purpose (defined in Jn 17:21-23), so that (4) the world can
also be reconciled to God through Christ. For this to unfold as the
experiential truth (not merely propositional truth) and relational
reality (not virtual), there is a critical process necessary in us
that involves reconciling reconciliation.
Christians and churches need to
reconcile aspects of their way of life to the political/public theology
of the Word, and not assume that their practice is compatible with this
specific theology. In addition, without taking their own theology for
granted, there are elements in their particular political/public
theology (explicit or implied) that need to be reconciled also.
Currently, there are incongruities in our theology and practice, which
must be reconciled for the truth of reconciliation to emerge and its
reality to unfold. The contention of values among Christians, plus the
conflict between Christians over right and wrong, indicate these
incongruities that compromise our integrity, if not bring shame on our
identity. In the Word’s critique of church theology and practice, how
does the acclaimed church in Sardis in actuality be incomplete and thus
in truth be lifeless, rather than merit its reputation for being alive
(Rev 3:1-2); and why does the growing love and faith of the activist
church in Thyatira get strongly reprimanded for their loving tolerance
and faithful diversification (Rev 2:18-23)? Two interrelated key issues
in theology and practice are at the heart of what continues to be
controversial for theology and practice today.
The 1st key issue revolves
on our view of sin. The prominent view of sin focuses on moral-ethical
failure and disobeying God. This disobedience was initiated by Adam and
Eve as the essence of the origin of sin in this view. In truth, what
evolved in the primordial garden goes beyond just disobedience and
encompasses the depth of how they reduced their created persons and then
reduced God’s word to them down to negotiable terms, thereby
renegotiating the nonnegotiable. This reduced their relationship with
God and with each other according to their reduced terms over God’s
whole terms for relationship together. This view does not diminish the
sin of disobedience, but merely disobedience does not take into account
all these reductions enacted by these persons. In other words, sin seen
only as disobedience and moral-ethical failure is an incomplete view of
sin, which circulates in much theology and practice as a weak view of
sin.
For God, all that evolved above was
contrary to who and what he created and how his terms constituted the
whole person and their relationship together in wholeness (as in Gen
2:18.25). Therefore, in God’s view any reduction of God’s whole is sin,
and anything less than sin as reductionism is incomplete and
weak. Our greatest sin today is not limited to disobedience but involves
the reduction of God, that is, by shaping our God according to our human
image and likeness, which mirrors the reduction of our created image and
likeness—reductions all made to serve our interests. Accordingly, our
view of sin impacts God’s forgiveness and what we are forgiven for;
directly interrelated, our view of sin then determines what we are saved
from. If we are only saved from sin that doesn’t include
reductionism, then our forgiveness is limited and our salvation is
incomplete, thus in truth of only little significance. If our view of
sin encompasses sin as reductionism, then to be forgiven by its nature
necessarily includes being restored to wholeness. This also is
consequential for limiting salvation to only being saved from.
The truth of being saved from sin as reductionism, however, by its
nature must also include the reality of being saved to the
wholeness of our person and relationships together. The fact is that we
cannot be saved from being reduced from wholeness without at the same
time also being restored to wholeness. Therefore, the salvation of God
in Christ integrally constitutes being saved from and saved to—from
reduction and to wholeness.
Wholeness involves the 2nd
key issue in theology and practice that is interrelated to our view of
sin. What integrates sin as reductionism in theology and practice with
wholeness is theological anthropology (TA)—that is, how the person is
defined and relationships together are determined as created by God.
Besides our view of sin presumed in our way of life, nothing is taken
for granted more than our theological anthropology. Even theological
scholars often make assumptions in their theological discourse that
takes for granted their TA in how they define the person and determine
relationships—apparent in their own person and relationships—which may
or may not be compatible with the image and likeness of God that God
created in us with nothing less and no substitutes. Anything less and
any substitutes in our theological anthropology demonstrate how our view
of sin interrelates with our TA to compose our theology and practice
accordingly.
The person created in God’s image and
likeness cannot be less than whole, or that would reflect God not being
whole. Yet, the dominant way both the person and God are usually defined
is by the reduced fragments of what they do and have, the quantitative
measure of which either subordinates, ignores or doesn’t understand the
qualitative dimension of being whole. Limiting the person and God to
their quantified acts and resources fragments them to those parts and
related quantitative distinctions (both from outer in); and regardless
of how important or valuable those parts are, they become mere
reductions from the whole of their wholeness. Their wholeness, by the
nature of God’s image and likeness, includes the integration of the
whole person into the wholeness of relationship together. The ontology
and function of the Trinity constitutes the whole of God in the
wholeness of the trinitarian persons’ relationship together. The image
and likeness of the Trinity is inseparable from the ontology and
function of the Trinity; and it is on this irreducible basis that the
ontology and function of human persons are created whole in God’s
qualitative image integrated in the wholeness of relationship together
exactly in relational likeness of the Trinity.
Any theological anthropology not
composed to functionally (1) define the ontology of persons in the whole
of God’s qualitative image and (2) determine their function in the
wholeness of relationship together by the Trinity’s relational likeness,
becomes a TA reflecting, reinforcing and sustaining reductionism and
thus a weak view of sin. Consider the quantified outer-in distinctions
that emerge when persons are defined by fragments of what they do and
have, and relationships are determined on this outer-in basis. Such
quantified distinctions are always made in a comparative process, which
uses outer-in measures to label persons as more or less, better or
worse, good or bad, thereby creating a stratified system. How can we
come together as created-equal persons united as one, a union in which
each person is as important as any other person? Based on such reduced
distinctions, how can the church constitute the body of Christ that Paul
irreducibly distinguished (1 Cor 12)?
When you suspend any bias you may have
about the church, can you see how our view of sin and theological
anthropology are the keys for getting to the heart of our existing
condition? The scenes of Christians and churches today have amplified
the level of our current drama. All the outer-in distinctions used among
us (including the past) are contrary to and in conflict with the Rule of
Law constituted by God for the church (see Acts 10:28,34; 15:9). Peter
learned this experiential truth and relational reality the hard way (as
Paul further corrected him, Gal 2:11-14); and since we are faced with
similar issues, the open question is how well we will learn the same
experiential truth of TA and relational reality of sin.
Therefore, these two key issues need to
be reconciled in our theology and practice in order to fulfill the
reconciliation of us as the new creation church family, so that
we all will constitute “the one just as we are One”—the “just as”
Jesus made constitutive of his family (Jn 17:11,20-23).
So, here we are facing the uncertainty
of 2021. And the inescapable question for all Christians and churches
looms over us: The advent of what, the new or the old?
Until we reconcile these issues in our theology and practice so that the
old in us will die, the new will not rise for
reconciliation to be a certainty in our way of life.
Integrating Theology and Practice
When Christians start to see the us
between our divisions—as well as look deeper than outer-in
distinctions—and begin to realize the other in the divided
church, there is hope in the midst of our fragmentation to claim for
tomorrow. For this hope to be experienced in the certainty of the new
future, Christians and churches will need to integrate the fragments
of theology and the parts of practice into the wholeness only
constituted by and thus in the Word. This essential process, however, is
composed primarily in qualitative terms, which is distinguished in the
primacy of the relational process and its integral relational outcome of
whole theology and practice.
Whenever our theology is not integrally
integrated with our practice, we enter into a theological fog that
limits our vision. In order to have light to guide us in this condition,
we need to recognize that we are susceptible to turning to misinformed
theological sources, which results in simply misguiding our practice. To
apply the Word’s axiom (Mk 4:24) to this fog: “The source of theology we
use is the theology we get; and the theology we use is the practice we
get—nothing more, but it could be anything less.” We shouldn’t expect
whole theology and practice in a theological fog.
Currently, our way of life as the
church can be described as a collection of unified divisions. In
this polarized country, churches have politicized increasingly to form a
church composition of distinctly like-minded members bearing a partisan
mindset. Even though such a homogeneous make-up has been advocated by
various proponents of church growth—notably C. Peter Wagner, whom I
encountered in a PhD class at USC—these like-minded churches have not
grown the body of Christ but fragmented Christ’s wholeness (the “just
as” of the Trinity). Like-minded is not what Paul meant for the church
when he made imperative, “be of one mind, live in peace” (2 Cor 13:11,
NIV). The peace Paul centered on was the uncommon peace Jesus
distinguished from common peace (Jn 14:27), which is “the peace of
Christ” (i.e. the wholeness of shalom) that Paul established as
the only determinant to constitute the church “since as members of one
body you were call to wholeness” (Col 3:15, NIV).
Therefore, contrary to unified
divisions, churches that emerge in the uncommon peace of wholeness can
be defined as diversified unions. Rather than the like-mindedness
evolving from a weak view of sin and incomplete theological
anthropology, diversified unions demonstrate the redemptive change of
those who “wholeheartedly obey the terms of teaching to which you
were entrusted” (Rom 6:17, NIV). To be clear, like-minded should not be
confused with wholehearted. The peace that the Word gives in redemptive
change makes whole our persons and relationships in a way of life
uncommon to our surrounding contexts.
The integration of theology and
practice for our wholeness converges in the Word’s political/public
theology. Basically, political theology defines the way of life for
practice every day. The Word’s political theology centers on God’s Rule
of Law—namely as the Word centralized earlier (Mk 12:29-31)—and its way
of life constitutes primary engagement in reconciliation. Accordingly,
crucial for political theology in its integration process is the ongoing
dynamic of nonnegotiably subordinating all the secondary (however
important) in life, and then integrating that secondary into what is
irreducibly primary to God and the Words’ “way, truth and life.” Why
nonnegotiable? Because God’s primary always supersedes the secondary
composing human life. Thus, the Word’s political theology requires its
way of life to always integrate the secondary into the primary in order
for any and all theology and practice to be whole.
Since all Christians and churches
practice a way of life, their explicit or implied political theology
becomes critical to examine with the Word for the clarification needed
and correction necessary for any redemptive change required to be whole
in our identity and function, whereby our way of life will be
distinguished in wholeness. Commonly today, for example, too many
Christians and churches have compromised their identity with identity
politics and their function inseparably with partisan politics. The
integrity of our way of life is at stake here.
At the forefront of the peace-wholeness
of Christ constituting the identity and function of his church is
nothing less and no substitutes for the ongoing function of
reconciliation in our way of life. Various Christians and churches use
the term reconciliation in their discourse, but this doesn’t mean it’s
the function distinguishing their way of life. As we enter 2021, I am
not hopeful in the church; rather I place my hope in Christ’s new
creation family, who together as one will enact wholeheartedly
who, what and how we are in wholeness for our everyday way of life. This
alone will constitute the future new and distinguish our primary
purpose, responsibility and function in nothing less and no substitutes
for reconciliation.
What’s ahead for you in 2021? You may
be distracted by or preoccupied with all the uncertainty, but hopefully
the Word (and his Spirit) will help you understand the certainty of
what’s primary to God amidst the uncertain secondary in everyday life.
Surely you can be certain of this in what’s next: Your way of life will
either be growing in the new or recycling in the old. This
makes political theology irreplaceable (1) for integrating our theology
and practice, in order to (2) reconcile them with the Word and into his
wholeness, so that (3) the identity and function of our way of life will
be high-lighted, unmistakably reflect and thereby irreducibly
distinguish the nonnegotiable reconciliation entrusted to us for every
aspect of our life.
Political theology and reconciliation
are not optional for Christians and churches. So, we stand at this
crossroads that makes 2021 one of the most pivotal junctures in church
history. How this will play out in the road we choose will depend on the
playbook used in our way of life. The playbook from the Word is not
virtual but a hard reality, which many may choose to avoid or
selectively observe. The hard reality of the crossroads before us is
simply stated: “The gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to
destruction, reduction, fragmentation, and there are many who
take it; the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and
there are few who find it” (Mt 7:13-14). Life (in the Gk. zoe) is
not merely life in general (as in bios) but the qualitative life
in wholeness created by the Word (Jn 1:3-4; 10:10). The road to zoe
is narrow and hard, with the latter qualifying the former. The hard
reality of the narrow road to zoe is that it takes our everyday
way of life outside of our comfort zones. For that reason, many
Christians and churches may define the road they’re on as narrow, but in
truth that road is only composed by a limited fragment of the Bible (not
the whole Word) that makes the reality of the road easier or easy; this
for the most part allows them to stay in their comfort zones. Thus, such
a so-called narrow road isn’t compatible with the Word’s narrow road and
in its reality reveals a wider road chosen at the crossroads of life.
The playbook from the Word is indeed a
hard reality. Which playbook have you and your church been using for the
road you’ve been on? Whatever that might be, the crossroads facing us at
this pivotal juncture will certainly determine if redemptive change
takes place or not, if our choice is the hard road or an easier road,
and therefore if the new unfolds or the old widely
circulates. We cannot overstate the importance of our choice at this
defining crossroads; nor can we underestimate the consequences of our
choice in our everyday way of life.
We should not have any illusions of
what we are building with our faith. Construction in faith and practice
have simulated the hard reality of the Word, the forms of which are
misleading to the unexamined life or deceiving to the divided heart.
Once again, however, the Word makes unequivocal the results from the
playbook we use (Mt 7:24-27). The certainty of our hope for what’s next
can rise on only one foundation, therefore make no assumptions about and
use no reduced measure of the foundation you build your way of life on.
The advent of what’s ahead is inevitable for the road we choose at this
pivotal juncture.
There is no doubt that what makes the
hard road the hardest involves relationships. Relationships are primary
in God’s Rule of Law, the relational terms of which define the
irreducible and nonnegotiable terms for relationship together, both with
God and with each other. These terms for relationship, of course, were
irrevocably centralized by the Word to their deepest function of love
(Mt 22:37-40)—the hardest part of the Law. The primacy of relationships
converges on the hard road in the primary function of love, which
integrally unfolds with the ongoing primacy of reconciliation (Lk
6:27-28). If we choose the hard road at this current crossroads, we need
to understand that it requires stepping out of our comfort zones and
being wholeheartedly involved in this primacy of this primary.
The Primacy of the Primary
In the political theology of the
psalmists, their way of life proclaims: “Your Rule of Law is the theme
of my song wherever I live” (Ps 119:54, NIV); “I will sing of your love
and justice…and be wise to lead a life of wholeness” (Ps 101:1-2,
NIV), and thereby “sing to the Lord a new song” (Ps 96:1; 98:1; 144:9;
149:1).
Singing the new song can only be
composed in our way of life by the redemptive change of the old
in us dying, so that the new rises in us as the new creation.
Singing of God’s love constitutes our love by being reconciled in the
primacy of relationship together in wholeness (as in whole TA). Singing
of God’s whole justice cannot be composed only by partial justice (i.e.
by a weak view of sin) in our way of life; therefore, God’s Rule of Law
becomes the theme of our song in whatever context of our way of life
only when this Rule for our wholeness subordinates any other rules of
law in human life. At this point, it should start to become apparent how
easily singing the song of our way of life can get out of tune. As the
Word states resoundingly: “The measure of the tune we use is the song we
get; and the song we use is the singing we get” (Mk 4:24).
The singing by Christians and churches
is often out of tune. Many worship songs may resound on the surface,
notably in contemporary Christian music; but when their themes are
examined deeper, they don’t resonate because they are out of tune. A
prime example is the songs about God’s love and singing them for our
love. If you listen to the words, the songs are tuned primarily
according to the quantified fragments of what God did, does and will do.
On the basis of a reduced TA, of course, this defines who God is
by what he does, and notably determines what God is by his deeds
rather than how God is in the primary function of relationship as
constituted in the Trinity. All God’s deeds are certainly important but
also secondary to God’s vulnerable and intimate involvement in direct
relationship, both together in the Trinity and together with us.
Any reduction of love to what God does
or what we do for others, as important as that is, does not constitute
the whole depth of love. As constituted by the Word, the fullness of
love is solely determined by the primary function of vulnerable and
intimate relational involvement directly face to face with others. God’s
love in the Trinity is not about what the trinitarian persons do for
each other but constituted in the depth of their relational involvement
in relationship together as One. On this functional basis, the Trinity’s
love is extended to us, again not by what they do for us in all its
importance (as Christ’s sacrifice on the cross), but solely in their
primary vulnerable and intimate relational involvement directly face to
face with us for the primacy of relationship together. This essential
distinction was demonstrated ultimately by the Word—during what
Christians consider the ultimate act of love, his sacrificial love on
the cross—in the depth of his relational involvement face to face with
others, notably the other criminal (Lk 23:42-43), and Mary and John (Jn
19:25-27).
Just as the Word made definitive and
prayed, our vulnerable and intimate relational involvement directly face
to face with God and with each other in relationship, this is the love
that unites us together as one just as the Trinity is One (Jn
17:23). Unlike the Trinity, however, our love only unites us together as
one when the depth of our relational involvement vulnerably and
intimately involve our persons in the ongoing function of
reconciliation. Among diverse Christians today, many disassociate with
each other, some associate at various levels, but few if any truly
engage in reconciliation with the relational involvement of love. God’s
new creation family is the experiential truth and relational reality of
persons reconciled with God by redemptive change (2 Cor 5:18). Thus, the
church that has undergone redemptive change becomes this new creation by
its primary relational involvement of love in the ongoing function of
reconciliation (Eph 2:14-22; 2 Cor 5:19-20).
To repeat emphatically, this primacy of
this primary is irreducible and nonnegotiable for all Christians and
churches. With certainty, however, a reduced theological anthropology
reduces this whole, and a weak view of sin renegotiates this wholeness;
when they are not reconciled in our theology and practice by redemptive
change, they will always compromise the integrity of the Word’s whole
theology and practice. Our comfort zones find ways to make the hard
easier. Yet, our uncertainty in this certainty can overcome our
uncertainty with the certainty of the Word, who integrally integrates
our theology and practice by the primacy of the primary; this will
unfold in our political theology and way of life practice made whole—the
wholeness in the qualitative image and relational likeness of the
Trinity, nothing less and no substitutes.
So, what do you think is next for us?
Do we sing the new song for the future or do we stay out of tune
preoccupied by the secondary and repeat the old?
A Closing Word
In the Word’s discipleship manifesto,
he clarifies for all his followers: “Therefore, do not worry (be
anxious) about tomorrow…. Today’s trouble is enough for today” (Mt
6:34). In other words, tomorrow will be determined by how we live today.
For the way of life of the Word’s political theology, the primary
practice daily is pursuing “the kingdom of God and his righteousness
(i.e. the whole of who, what and how God is, whose wholeness can be
counted on in relationship together)” (6:33). Only the primacy of the
relational involvement of love both with God and with each other clearly
distinguishes the realm of the Word’s new creation family in the
qualitative image and relational likeness of the Trinity—distinguished
even in the midst of surrounding uncertainties.
Therefore, my brothers and sisters,
today indeed cannot wait until tomorrow. There is essential work to
enact today that no one else can fulfill, because God entrusted only
those reconciled to him in the Word with the essential work of
reconciliation. Nothing less and no substitutes for the enactment of
reconciliation can and will bring the new future in what’s next
for our way of life.
The hope of certainty!
Note: This essay serves as the introduction
to an expanded study of political theology to be prepared for 2021.
Until then, for further study I encourage you to read related studies on
our website (4X12.org), particularly the fundamental one on theological
anthropology and the foundational one on the global church.
©November 2020 T. Dave Matsuo
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