Hate is much more fascinating to me than love is. Any non-romantic can turn to his partner and say that their attraction is caused by pheromones and that if this partner simply smelled differently, there would be no love. But hate is more complex. It is triggered and cultivated, gathered and aimed.
Any Christian person subscribed to any Christian blog, or any non-Christian who is subscribed to a Christian blog to watch us fall on our face all the time, knows that the buzzword “Mark Driscoll” has once again been tossed onto the internet with a story behind it that made most of our stomachs at least mildly upset, and those of us trapped in cars stared out the window for hours, occasionally being asked by our mothers if we were still angry or sometimes beating her to the chase and simply admitting to an anger that could be eased only by McFlurry consumption.
I am not going to link Driscoll’s comments here because they are homophobic, sexist, completely crass, and just plain mean. Google his name if you haven’t already read his comments and would like to do so. I will, however, give you the summary: Mark Driscoll, 14 years ago, commented on chatroom boards under the name William Wallace II (William Wallace. Heroic? Yes. Decapitated? Also yes.) and just blasted...everyone. From his comments, I gathered that the only people who will be able to stand in the presence of God are the same people I can’t stand to be in the presence of at the gym.
But I’m not going to comment on what Driscoll got wrong, how he did this way a long time ago, any of the issues he brings up (for now), or all of the total blah associated with his name that has come before this. I want to look at the bigger picture.
I had been throwing around the idea of starting a blog because I posed several questions to my Facebook friends, and the messages and emails I got in return were so wonderful that I wanted to create that environment on a larger scale: Short posts, long discussions. With rules. Yes. Rules. Rules that I will get to, but not yet.
Ironically, the first rule was going to be no negative name dropping, and the use of names could only be used in quoting or backing up opinions, so my getting on here at writing a first post that is all MARK DRISCOLL is breaking my own rule. But I’m bringing him up only to be able to walk us to the question I am about to pose.
Driscoll made it extremely clear that there are some people he knows, without a doubt, will be burning in hell for all of eternity and deserve it. His certainty makes him feel that he can speak this out confidently…
but what if he’s wrong?
If sin could exist with God, and Driscoll got to heaven and found his gay ...or female ...or male-who- earned-less-money-than-his-wife neighbor standing next to him, would Driscoll be angry that this person was not in hell?
Who would you be disappointed to see standing next to Jesus because His redemptive grace reached people whom you wrongly concluded could not be reached?
Your answer, my answer, the Church’s answer should be a simultaneous shout of, “NO ONE!”
But I don’t think it is. And this is how we can be certain that we (Evangelical Americans) have steadied our aim and fired our hate.
Hate and love. Hate and live are intrinsically and unfortunately linked. We think of them as polar opposites, but they aren’t.
Here is your very short science lesson. Ready? In neuroscience, “hate” and “love” are on the same circuit of the brain, a circuit which results in extreme behaviors.
See? Such a short science lesson. Not so bad.
What we can take away from this is that love and hate are both passion.
And this can get me, or anyone (even Driscoll), all confused inside and thinking we’re acting in and out of one while we’re really acting in and out of the other. We’re just blind to it. And no, I don’t think all love is going to be warm and gentle. Love can be hard to give and hard to take.
My main point in all of this is that Evangelical America is lost between love and hate, and anyone not in the Evangelical American subculture undoubtedly sees it as only hate. This is because our desire to be right has made it so that there are some people that we don’t want God to save.
That is a huge statement, an offensive one, a scary one, and it is being said by a 25 year-old with a music theory and not a Jesus degree who will be the first to admit that she doesn’t know close to everything and would even possibly wager that she really knows nothing for certain.
To be fair, I tested this hypothesis on myself and came to the horrifying conclusion that I am pretty terrible.
This is how the test went:
Whenever the idea that hell is more of a metaphor for what separation from God looks like rather than an actual place (unitarianism or even annihilationism), people are all like, “WHAT ABOUT HITLER!? THERE HAS TO BE A HELL BECAUSE HITLER! SA(%&^)JBKAS!” (We like to name the very worst people and forget in the same breath that we’re condemning the millions of Jews who both didn’t believe in Jesus and were killed by Hitler. Another post.)
But I thought about this. And I tried to be honest with myself. If I came across Hitler in heaven and was still in possession of my earthly reactions, what would my first thought be?
The answer I gave my own question is, “He shouldn’t be here.”
But neither should I, right?
And who am I to think that I understand God’s grace to the point where I can confidently judge and condemn a single person, let alone groups of people who live their lives differently from my own? (<— I’m speaking more about the people Driscoll addressed than Hitler.)
If Hitler should be in heaven, if the blood of Jesus has covered the horrible wrong he committed and the generations he has left heartbroken and devastated, and whose devastation cannot and should not be overlooked, should my response not be, “Hallelujah! Only you, Lord!?”
I think it would have to be.
Evangelical America has made claims that require us to speak out with certainty; claims about what families should look like, what submission is, what the role of a woman should be, and many others. These claims have also divided families, ostracized communities, caused suicide rates to skyrocket, and even caused some to go so far as to say, “I don’t care if you think you’re a Christian. You cannot be who you are and be a child of God.” I’ve heard it. I’ve witnessed it. I’ve watched plenty of heartbroken friends cry about it. If I’m being totally honest, the Church’s certainty has even forced me to intervene for friends who were attempting to take their own lives.
Bad call, Church.
Maybe it did begin with passionate and extreme behaviors out of love, but that isn’t what it is anymore. That love has turned into a hate that is infecting us much more than many are able to see. Hate has become an epidemic. It spreads faster than any disease, and instead of killing the people it infects, it kills the people who encounter the infected. And the worst part? It’s all in the name of Jesus.
Comment with your thoughts.
WW
WW
Blog Rules
This blog is going to be used to perpetuate discussion. I want to bring up some of the issues that “The Millennials” are facing or are frustrated with, and I want to talk about them. All of them. And I don’t necessarily want to come to any conclusion of any kind.
I do, however, want to learn, and under no circumstance do I ever want any person to comment and then feel unwelcome, so these are some basic guidelines to make this work:
- TALK. I want comments. Long comments from lots of people with all kinds of views. I want to read them all.
- Discussions can be heated. I’m not writing to inform you of things. I am writing my opinion, and I want you to argue it. Call me out on things. I like being wrong because I like to learn. That's so unnatural. I know.
- Please, I beg of you, back up your thoughts. Don’t be like, “Cottage cheese is disgusting.” Be like, “Cottage cheese is disgusting because it’s lumpy and can’t decide if it’s a solid or a liquid, and if it’s a liquid, then that is a sin because queso is the only holy non-solid cheese.” Then I can come back with something like, “Despite it’s not necessarily pleasing texture, it’s still creamy, and if you mix it with fruit, it is delicious and healthy, and therefore, its function trumps whatever level of creepy you find cottage cheese to be.”
- If you get into a back-and-forth with just one other person, take it to email. Then maybe come back and post how your discussion ended.
- You can be funny. It's appreciated.
- Do not insult anyone who comments here. Don’t do it.
- I reserve the right to remove any comments I believe could be offensive.
- Do your best to not drop names in a negative way unless using a specific instance to support a point.
Emails me things you want to discuss!
And if this completely flops, well, then it completely flops and will magically disappear.
I think heaven will entail forgetfulness.
ReplyDeleteThis is not an original idea. Miroslav Volf, founding director of the Yale Center for Faith and Culture, wrote about reconciling relationships between oppressed and oppressor in his book "Exclusion & Embrace" (among others). In this book, he says at one point that "remembering rightly" (i.e., in continuity with the Holy Spirit's ongoing work of sanctification) requires a sort of forgetting. He does put in safeguards; this forgetting does not preclude the search for justice. Nevertheless, I believe that Volf includes forgetting as a final stage in the process of justice.
When I first read this idea, it bothered me. I have lived most of my life as if I am trying to earn good memories. Many decisions, deliberately or by default, hinge on this philosophy. For example, I do not watch much television because I find that it does not convert my time into memory well. The more thought I gave this idea, though, my mind began to change. If we do not forget, we cannot really forgive. The memory of pain will continue to hurt us and push us away from those who have hurt us until we are inconsolably alone. We will be like those wandering the far reaches of the fallen earth in C.S. Lewis' "The Great Divorce," always moving further away from life and community because of their twisted, selfish desire.
Still, this idea ran against my gut. I decided to pick up another book by Volf, "The End of Memory." Unfortunately, I only finished a couple chapters before leaving home. The book is now thousands of miles away. From what I read, though, it sounded like Saint Augustine was also on board the train bound for a forgetful eternity.
Off the top of my head, I cannot think of any Scripture to support forgetfulness in heaven. As I was reading above, though, Matthew 20 came to mind. That's where Jesus tells the Parable of the workers in the vineyard. Although some were hired early in the morning, some in the afternoon, and some in the evening, the owner of the vineyard paid them all the same amount. Needless to say, the ones who'd spent their whole day out in the sun weren't happy. To their complaints, the vineyard owner replies:
"I'm not being unfair to you, friends. Didn't you agree to work for one denarius? Take your pay and go... Don't I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?"
Then Jesus closes the story:
"So the last will be first, and the first will be last."
On this side of the grave, for me, justice and grace seem irreconcilable. I do not have an answer, but thankfully you didn't really ask for one.
Hey Josiah! Thanks for responding.
DeleteIt seems like heaven would have to include forgetfulness, doesn't it? Memories would be laced with sin and, therefore, couldn't exist, right? It is a sad thought though.
No answers here either.
At least on initial reaction, I think I disagree that heaven is necessarily forgetful. Of course memories can be laced with sin, but do they have to be discarded wholesale? Couldn't they instead be, in some sense, redeemed? Surely heaven must include memories of Christ's death on the cross, but where is its meaning without the ultimate sins of humanity that lead to His sacrifice?
DeleteI suppose it depends in large part what is meant by "forgetfulness". I could see a kind of "forgive and forgetfulness" in heaven, where forgetting doesn't mean "it's like it never happened" but rather "it happened, but it's no longer consequential". I think of the parable of the prodigal son; the father's joy at his son's return is made more poignant *because* of the son's wayward past, not in spite of it. As in "Amazing Grace", "who once was lost, now is found": to forget the first half would be to lose the meaning of the second.
Here are a couple short questions to advance discussion:
ReplyDelete1. When you decided to write this post, what was that core issue or idea that you really wanted to get into people's head?
2. How important is the bible in determining the topic you bring up (hell, sin, hate, forgiveness, etc.)
Hey Warnocks!
DeleteYes, this (the idea that the power of hate has gone too far) is the core issue I wanted in peoples' heads. "People," more specifically meaning Evangelical Americans.
And the Bible is of course important to everything mentioned, but I know you and I are going to differ in our thinking of how the Bible informs us. If you find the time, I'd love to know which passages specifically came into mind when you listed those topics.
no one deserves hell more than me.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI agree with you. So many people were in uproar when Osama Bin Laden was killed. People were so ecstatic to hear a human being died. And my heart hurt, because that is not how Jesus would react to such a thing. At best, that man is in heaven. More realistically, he isn't, and a soul lost is a tragedy, regardless of the human-perceived quality of that soul.
ReplyDeleteInteresting topic!
I agree with you when you say that "there are some people that we don't want God to save" and we're not the first to think that way... I think Jonah is a classic example of this when God spared the Ninevites.
ReplyDeleteI think this discussion could open another can worms as it could lend itself to the predestination vs. free will debate. (I personally struggle with the case for predestination and would be really interested in discussing this topic further). If Hitler is in heaven, is it because he genuinely sought God's forgiveness and truly wanted to be saved; OR is it because God created him in such a way that despite the path he took he would eventually, without a doubt, accept Christ?
Sorry it took me so long to write! The computer ate my first lengthy comment a week ago, and I've been stewing ever since. Yeah. Technology, man.
ReplyDeleteI think this question in timely given everything that's been going on this week. I had to ask myself the question, What would I do if I saw the ISIS terrorist that mutilated my sister or killed my father in heaven? Would I just be cool with that?
Now, this is a complete tangent, but I've been thinking a lot recently about the nature of heaven and humanity and justice (you know…normal everyday things). And I've realized two things. First, I don't think it will matter to us who is in heaven. I think the the glory of God will overwhelm us to such an extent that we can rejoice - even with a terrorist - whose great, heinous sin has been forgiven and expunged. There must be hope for the worst if there is to be hope for little ole me…but that's an entirely different theological tangent.
Secondly, I was listening to Lewis' The Last Battle recently, and it opens the door (pun, y'all) for the idea that our experiences of heaven may not be the same based on what we've done in life. I would actually really love to read more about this because I think heavenly justice can give great hope to us here.
And lastly, I agree with Nate about the idea of heavenly forgetfulness. I've done nary a modicum of research on the subject, but I somehow like to think that He is able to redeem all of our experiences in heaven such that they would not be a pain for us, but a badge of honor. But I'd love to hear more about that idea!