tagged 
experience, faith, knowledge
experience, faith, knowledge Entries in faith (14)
The Honorable Order of Experience
Thursday, September 1, 2011 at 12:05AM 
Just a mile up the road is Green River State Park. Like most locals, I never go to the lake, except to take visitors cliff-jumping.
We park the car in a gravel lot and take the trail out to a secluded spot overlooking the man-made lake. The shale stone cliff is only about twenty feet above the lake, but I’m fond of telling first-timers it’s forty feet, minimum. In the woods near the point are the remains of campfires and beer bottles. We tell the newbies to keep their voice down, otherwise the park rangers will run us off, because cliff jumping is not authorized. Too dangerous.
I’m a safety-first kinda guy, so I ask one of the young bucks in our party to first climb down the cliff and swim the waters to check for submerged logs or anything that could cause injury. I watch the first-timers peer over the edge and watch the swimmer below. You can see them do the math about jumping: is it really 40 feet? How often are there submerged logs? Is this really safe?
I know what you’re thinking: This is a post about taking a leap of faith. Nope. This isn’t a metaphor about faith: it’s about experience. Nothing replaces it.
The word “faith” has been virtually ruined in our discourse. It can mean intellectual agreement with various propositions. It can mean superstition regarding any number of moments in life. Even among Christians, faith is frequently reduced to the mere teaching of bullet points and making sure everyone is on the same page doctrinally.
That’s why cliff jumping is so refreshing: cliff jumping requires the jump: you can walk the path, swim the waters, climb the rocks, but eventually you must jump. Nothing else will do. You can go along and watch. You can correct my estimate of how many feet you will fall. You can watch others all afternoon. But if you’re going to be a cliff jumper, eventually you have to jump.
It doesn’t matter how you jump. Hold your nose and close your eyes. Put your arms in the air like a roller coaster ride. Scream like a little girl. Now you’re a jumper, and sailing through the air trumps study or song. You’ll return home with a new experience and a souvenir memory. You are a member of the Honorable Order of Park Ranger-Defying Cliff Jumpers. You know whereof you speak.
Knowledge and theory are overrated. Experience is underrated. We need experience: it’s the kind of knowing the scripture describes when it urges us:
Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord;
his going out is sure as the dawn;
he will come to us as the showers,
as the spring rains that water the earth. (Hosea 6:3)
I want to feel him like the rush of my first jump. Like the wind in my ears. Like the crazy sound of the water when it covers my head in an instant. I want to know him in the twitching of my leg muscles in the night when I go to bed and remember the first time I jumped.
I want faith that grabs him in the middle of the jump and never lets go. I want Paul’s prayer to be answered in me:
I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. (Ephesians 3: 16-21)
I want words to fail me. I want the fourth dimension. I want faith that grasps his love. Then I’ll go study, because only then will he be with me.
Lazarus Quenby and the Reasonable Dinner Party
Thursday, June 30, 2011 at 11:34AM 
Lazarus Quenby, bored with the reasonable and respectable conversation at dinner, discreetly glanced at his pocket watch at the very moment the dinner party at Waddesford Manor came to an unexpected end. The ninth-century floor support beam gave way, plunging the dinner party deep into the caverns beneath the manor. There, buried beneath the rubble and Tudor-style furniture, six people found themselves under the banquet table which had served twelve generations of Waddesfords by holding their dinner. The table’s last service to the family was to hold the debris at bay while the six dinners scrambled toward the cavern and took inventory of their injuries and each other.
“Is everyone all right?”
“Charles? Is that you? I’m well, my dear,” answered Victoria. “But I seem to have someone’s limb in my face.”
“That would be me, Vickie.”
“Good God, David!” barked Sir Charles Waddesford, who always felt the need to take charge. “Remove your limb from my wife at once.”
“Yes, thank you, Charles. I’m all right.” said David, “What of Eleanore, Mary and Lazarus?”
“We are fine,” said Lazarus. “Eleanore, Mary and I are over here--and we’ve accounted for our limbs as well.”
Beneath the Manor were ancient caverns discovered when builders laid foundations for the main hall at Waddesford ten centuries before. They very reasonably sank foundations into the bedrock forty feet below. They failed to reason that both the cavern and the Manor were living things in their own right, and that a thousand years of even the subtlest movements would cause the disruption of soups served a millennium hence.
Perhaps more distressing than the interruption of the meal was the darkness of their present situation: the six diners were unharmed but found themselves accosted by deep darkness. Not the kind of darkness to which one could become accustomed after a few moments. Pitch darkness, the sort of which one could not see a hand six inches in front of one’s face. The kind of darkness that removes all other sense of place and time: there remains only a dread blackness.
“Everyone remain calm,” ordered Sir Charles, though no one had shown the slightest inclination toward panic. “Surely six reasonable adults can find our way back up to the Manor.”
“Reason’s not the thing, Charlie,” said Lazarus. “What we need is a damned bit of light.”
Lazarus Quenby was correct. If they were ever to get back to soups and finally see the main course, the dinner party needed light, not reason. Their greatest need was to have their situation illuminated, so they could make wise decisions based upon what they saw . . .
From the distress of our aristocratic friends we can learn the difference between reason and revelation, which are in no way opposed to one another.Reason is what we use once we seen things for what they are; revelation enables us to see what we would not be able to see otherwise. A little bit of light goes a long way. Forever, in fact. Perhaps light comes first in the order of creation because it is of first importance.
Some people suppose that revelation and faith are the same thing. Hardly. The Biblical notion of faith springs from trust. Revelation is to see things at last as they really are--with a clarity so vivid that trust is no longer an issue. When the two met on the road to Damascus, the Apostle Paul did not need faith to know that Jesus was real. Jesus settled the question of his resurrected reality with a blinding light. Paul did require, however, faith to trust in the goodness and kindness of Jesus.
To those living in darkness--including many who claim to have faith in Christ--the in breaking of light reveals powerfully the need to change course, to re-prioritize, or to re-order our lives around what is clearly true.
The light is not always convenient to those who have learned to navigate the shadowlands of self-sufficiency. The light is seldom welcomed amidst religious tradition because they believe they have ordered their world properly, and so have been unable to see the changes in the new landscape. The light always presents a challenge to those trust in their own intelligence. Not because their intelligence is invalid but because in the darkness they have launched out in the wrong direction, and if you’re lost no amount of reason can show you the right path.
“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen,” said C.S. Lewis. “Not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” That’s why Christianity begins with revelation. After we see things clearly God encourages us to use the rational mind to order our affairs in light of his revelation.
“How will we find our way out?” asked Victoria.
“It only stands to reason we should feel our way along, and follow any path that leads upward,” commanded Charles.
Just then Lazarus remembered the penlight attached to his key chain. Its dim beam was bright enough to cause the party to blink and shield their eyes.
“There appears to be something of a worn path in this direction,” he observed. “but it leads slightly down.” Charles remained adamant: the smart way out was up. He didn’t need the light to work his way back to the Manor. He turned and felt his way along the walls.
The rest of the dinner party quickly decided to follow Lazarus Quenby, who discovered a path that lead down and out to the place where a subterranean stream broke into an open field.
Even though the survivors sent search parties back underground, Sir Charles was never heard from again. Quenby married the widow Victoria and inherited the estate.
tagged Light, Revelation, faith, trust
Light, Revelation, faith, trust Monday's Meditation: Riotous Faith
Monday, June 20, 2011 at 11:20AM  |
| From: "La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc" |
It’s a worthy meditation for the week, and altogether appropriate for a Monday-mood: what is threatening about my faith? Acts chapter 19 details the story of Paul’s three years in Ephesus. During that time Paul took off his apostle robe and wore instead the garb of a pastor. Under his direction the church in Ephesus impacted the city socially and economically as well as spiritually. There was plenty at stake. Ephesus was no small city. The growing Christian community began to change the behavior patterns associated with the town--think of New Orleans gaining a new reputation as the city of holy living.
When their way of life was threatened the ruling powers in Ephesus manifested violence and anger toward Jesus and his followers. In fact, Ephesus was not the exception: consider Jerusalem, Thessalonica, Berea, or Rome.
Do I have riotous faith? Do we? Is there anything about the way we follow Jesus capable of threatening those around us?
- Does our faith threaten our family?
- Does our faith threaten the economy?
- Does our faith threaten the powers and principalities about us?
I have no death wish. Believe me. I’m also allergic to pain because, well, pain hurts. Yet today’s meditation is about the kind of faith that leads to pain, or even death. It's about beligerent faith.
Finally, consider this worship song from the house churches in China. When our Chinese brothers and sisters gather, this is one of the songs they sing:
To be a martyr for the Lord, to be a martyr for the Lord
I am willing to die gloriously for the Lord
Those apostles who loved the Lord to the end
Willingly followed the Lord down the path of suffering
John was exiled to the lonely isle of Patmos
Stephen was stoned to death by an angry crowd
Matthew was stabbed to death in Persia by a mob
Mark died as horses pulled his two legs apart
Doctor Luke was cruelly hanged
Peter, Philip and Simon were crucified on a cross
Bartholoew was skinned alive by the heathen
Thomas died in India as five horses pulled his body apart
The apostle James was beheaded by King Herod
Little James was cut in half by a sharp saw
James the brother of the Lord was stoned to death
Judas was tied to a pillar and shot by arrows
Matthias had his head cut off in Jerusalem
Paul was a martyr under Emperor Nero
I am willing to take up the cross and go forward
To follow the apostles down the road to sacrifice
That tens of thousands of precious souls can be saved
I am willing to leave all and be a martyr for the Lord.
Perhaps we could sing with our Asian brothers and sisters? Imagine using those lyrics as an act of worship!
What is Faith?
Thursday, December 16, 2010 at 11:42AM 
It may not have generated any comments at Students of Jesus, but one sentence from Monday’s Mediation on Faith garnered 20 comments over at Facebook. It was either a really poor sentence or we’ve got more to explore about the essence of faith.I use Facebook to promote Students of Jesus, so I posted a provocative statement along with a link to this blog. The offending statement?
“I want nothing to do with a definition of faith that requires agreement with propositions, I want everything to do with a faith that requires me to hope and trust in the Father's promise.”
Here’s a sampling of comments from people who lined up to take issue:
- I'm also having a tough time understanding your use of "propositions."
- I am wary of and adamantly against leapfrogging over propositions and intellectual understanding: Very strange ideas of "faith" tend to emerge as a result.
- I do not say this in rancor, but in honesty; I wonder at how you will maintain your denominational position.
- When you downplay the importance of intellectual pursuit and propositional truth, people just believe what they're told.
- Where do we see, scripturally, that "doctrine has very little to do with faith"?
Somewhere along the way, faith has morphed from knowing Jesus to knowing about him. I’m writing today to suggest a possibility: what if faith is relationship--relationship with a living, thinking, feeling, Person--what if faith is relationship with God?
The Apostle Paul points to Abraham as the father of our faith. Romans chapter 4 suggests that we come into right relationship with God by trusting Him: in Abraham’s case he placed his trust in God’s promises. In our case, we can place our trust in God’s gracious initiative to us in Jesus Christ. Abraham was not required to agree with any doctrinal statements about God. Instead, God invited Abraham into a relationship. And what a relationship they had! Based upon that relationship Abraham trusted God’s guidance with respect to where to live, how to plan his family, even whether to perform human sacrifice! In a society littered with a multiplicity of gods, Abraham turned his back on every god except some strange God without a name, a God without an image and without any religious structure. God invited Abraham into a relationship.
God spoke to Abraham about the stars in the sky, the sands on the seashore, and about how the two of them could become friends. Abraham had no religious traditions, dogma, or culture to which he had to subscribe. He was simply God’s servant, and eventually God’s friend. Faith and doctrine are two different things. What doctrines did Abraham agree with?
When Jesus called the twelve to follow him, he asked of them a great deal: within the only monotheistic religion in the history of the world, Jesus told his followers, “if you’ve seen me, you’ve seen the Father.” He said, in effect, to know him was to know the Father. The way to the Father was relationship with the Son, and it still is because the Son is the exact representation of God’s nature.
Hebrews 11 is faith's "Hall of Fame." What doctrines required agreement of those whom are lauded for their faith? Verse six says simply that "he who comes to God must believe that he is, and he is a rewarder of those who diligently seek him." That's relationship, not information. In fact, relationship is the surest way to to know the truth about someone: No one can deceive me with “facts” about my wife because after 26 years together I know her: I know her ways, her words, and in many cases I know her thoughts before she thinks them. This is my guarantee that no one can deceive me about my wife, and the same can (and should) be true in our relationship with Jesus.
Faith and relationship will lead us to sound teaching, but teaching will not lead us to intimacy, relationship and faith. People who affirm correct doctrine are not guaranteed relationship with the Father, Son, or Spirit. “You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life,” Jesus said in John 5:39. “These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life.”
One final Christmas example: when the Magi came to Jerusalem they inquired about the birth of the new king. The Scribes (masters of doctrine) answered the question correctly (Micah 5:2) yet not one went to bow before the new born king. Which would have been better that first Christmas: to know all the answers about Jesus, or to bow at his feet?
Monday's Meditation: A Person and His Promises
Monday, December 13, 2010 at 09:05AM Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact
that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah’s womb was also dead. Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised. Romans 4:18-21
"He faced the fact that his body was a good as dead." I love this. It tells me that faith does not require that I ignore the facts. I can stare frankly at what is before me. At the same time there are things bigger than the facts. This passage teaches me I can acknowledge my doubts without celebrating them.
“Being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised.“ Verses 20 and 21 tell me that Abraham's faith rested in God's promises, not a limited understanding of the situation. In fact, Abraham was persuaded that God could and would act. I suspect the reason faith is difficult for some people is that they’ve been told faith is believing a set of theological “facts” instead of trusting a person--a person fully capable and willing of acting on their behalf.
In another New Testament book Peter said that we become partakers in the divine nature through God's promises. His promises give us hope. That hope whispers to us, "go ahead--dare to to trust him, and to trust his promise!" I want nothing to do with a definition of faith that requires agreement with propositions, I want everything to do with a faith that requires me to hope and trust in the Father's promise.
Perhaps you could consider this during the week: faith is not agreeing with a set of propositions, it’s knowing a Person, hearing His promises, and trusting Him to fulfill them. Surely that’s better than celebrating my doubt, isn’t it?