Edgework

We have reached a tipping point in this series of essays on Rediscovering the Bible. It is time to move on from critique of how the Bible has been read, especially in conservative evangelical churches, to a quest for a better way.

But before we do I must share what motivates me to keep writing. While I now consider myself to be a biblical Anabaptist, much of my early religious formation happened in the shadow of a pervasive, biblical fundamentalism that is still prevalent in many of the churches I know. I once heard the pastor of my youth declare that he had taken most of his directives about biblical understandings from John R. Rice, a champion of fundamentalism in the mid-20th century. I am certain that Rice was a sincere and godly man, but his approach to the Bible exemplifies much of what I have been critiquing. It may appear to some that I have not been charitable enough to those who brought me to faith in that context. Some may even be tempted to think that my agenda has been to undermine faith in the Bible as a valuable and foundational asset for faith and life in the church today.

My response is to declare that I write from a place inside the church I love. I remain forever indebted to those sincere “soldiers of the cross” who introduced me to Jesus. That gave me a place from which to start on the journey I am still on. For most of my adult life I have served diligently within the church and its various ministries. That was a conscious choice made in the wake of a dramatic conversion experience at the age of sixteen. While there have been many twists and turns along the way, I must say that it has been an exciting ride and I can’t think of anything I would rather have done. So when I speak to the church at this point in my retirement years, I do so because I desire the best for the church both now and in the future. The church has been my home. And home is a place one cherishes, builds up and desires to protect.

However, I have noted that not all within the church I know like the idea of being on a quest. Their idea of the Christian life is to keep re-affirming the basic facts they know to be true and guarding themselves from thinking any new thoughts. My practice throughout my years of public ministry has been to end a class or a sermon with a question to think about. Some have appreciated this approach and have gladly joined me on the quest I have been on. Others have been less affirming. On numerous occasions I have been chastised for throwing out questions to ponder. “I didn’t come to church to hear more questions. I came to hear about what I already know.” Really, I thought. Did such a person have everything there was to know about God, faith and the Bible all sewed up?

Gradually I came to understand that I am a reflective person who sometimes represents a threat to those who are seeking security in what they have come to know. In his book, The Myth of Certainty (1999), Daniel Taylor suggests that we get to be defensive when we feel insecure. He says, “When people defend their world view, they are not defending reason, or God, or an abstract system; they are defending their own fragile sense of security and self-respect” (25). Basically we are afraid that our bubbles might burst and we will be left standing empty-handed.

Jacques Ellul once stated in Living Faith: Belief and Doubt in a Perilous World (1980), that “Fear dictates two modes of behavior: violence and rigidity” (230). In my case it was rigidity that showed its “frightened” face but at times I could almost taste the violence that lurked behind the tirades of my detractors.

Taylor insists there is a place in the church for reflective thinkers even if it makes some people uncomfortable (20). They have important tasks to perform within the body of Christ. For one, it is to urge us all toward unity instead of unanimity. “Unity is a profound, even mystical quality… Unanimity, on the other hand, is very tidy. It can be measured, monitored, and enforced. It is largely external, whereas unity is essentially internal… Ultimately, unanimity is impossible. It is brittle where unity is flexible and therefore strong. A single dissenter destroys it. For this reason, real questions are generally discouraged. Phony questions, however, where the answer is known by all, are part of a pleasurable ritual. They are asked and answered in a wonderful, nonthreatening confirmation of ‘group think’” (35-36).

It seems to me that from whatever place we come from in life we all desire, and some even quest after, truth. But if we are honest, all of us have to admit that there is no point in our lives where we actually have the last word on any given subject. One just has to think about how one’s own ideas about faith and life have evolved over the years. Taylor suggests that the problem in our faith communities emerges when we confuse truth with certainty (78). He goes on to say, “While certainty is beyond our reach, meaning – something far more valuable – is not. Meaning derives from a right relationship with God, based not on certainty and conformity, but on risk and commitment” (94).

While I can accept that as a reflective person I am in the minority in the church, I hope to live out my true self within the context of the church without being an adversary. My goal in attempting to point to a credible reading of the biblical text is to enliven and re-invigorate that body of which I am a part.