Sin is when we take something good and turn it in the wrong direction and redemption is when things are pointed in the right direction again.

Here in San Diego there is one story painting all the headlines. A young girl named Chelsea from Poway went missing not long ago, the response to which was a community-wide search. The search ended tragically with the discovery of her body. An arrest was made of a man named John Gardner, a registered sex-offender. About a year ago, a girl from Escondido named Amber went missing. Upon the arrest of Gardner in Chelsea’s case, the search for Amber was renewed and finally reached tragic closure yesterday when her body was discovered. Gardner is now in custody and is facing serious charges which may, if not certainly, sentence him to capital punishment.

The other night as I sat and watched the news, I was overwhelmed by the ugliness of the situation. I felt sick to my stomach thinking about the tragedy of it all, the pain that the families must be feeling, and the hopelessness of it all. As I sat and thought, “what could we possibly do to turn this in the right direction? How can hope be brought to such hopelessness?” they began to interview people from the community and show their reactions. One woman said that she didn’t think that Gardner should even be put on death row, “we should just kill him now.” Another man said “he deserves to be treated the same way he treated those girls.” Another woman even used the term, “an eye for an eye.” On the garage door of Gardner’s parents’ home, vandalism was discovered. In red writing it read, “Chelsea’s blood is on you.” And when two young men went to paint over the vandalism, a fight almost broke out and they were rebuked by the neighbors. The overall reaction from the community was anger, vengeance, hatred, and contempt for Gardner and his family.

What Gardener did was so ugly, the situation is so hopelessly ugly, and people’s reactions are yet so ugly as well. Can’t there be some reaction that brings life and hope to the situation? Yet the vengeful and angry reactions of the community are still so hopeless and empty.

We so often turn good things in the wrong direction–anger becomes hatred, hatred becomes violence, and violence becomes death–when anger, turned in the right direction, can be so life-giving. After all, it is our anger towards injustice which leads us to do justice. Can we sometimes turn bad things in the right direction?

In the face of sin, injustice, and even the horror of something like rape and murder, we as followers of Christ have a strange opportunity, perhaps our greatest opportunity, to turn things back in the right direction. Jesus said, “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’… You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…” (Matthew 5:38-48). In some way Jesus calls us to see the face of God even in the most horrific people, even in the face of John Gardner. God calls us to love that person, to pray for them. Such a loving response would be void of sanity if it was void of hope. Jesus, having been tortured, hanging on a cross of crucifixion, cries out “Father, forgive them…” (Luke 23:34). What kind of insane love would prompt such words of forgiveness in the face of such terrible injustice? Should they not pay for what they’ve done? What kind of hope could lead someone to love even when love seems impossible and irrational?

Jesus’ response to horror and tragedy was the response of resurrection. Oh, what hope in such hopelessness! What forgiveness in the midst of vengeance! Jesus’ response brought hope and restoration. What does our response bring?

Sin is a destructive pattern and our reactions to it, our reactions in the midst of our grief, can either continue the pattern of evil or they can break it and redeem it. Forgiveness is perhaps the most radical kind of redemption. Forgiveness is perhaps the greatest opposition to the pattern of sin. Forgiveness sends the whole thing, all of history, back in the right direction. Forgiveness offers hope in the midst of hopelessness and therefore it is the only truly Christian response to injustice.

Paul wrote, “Do not repay anyone evil for evil… Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath” (Romans 12:17-19). Revenge is different from wrath. When we seek “an eye for an eye” and when we take vengeance and refuse to forgive, we stand in the way of God’s wrath. Now, God’s wrath is not like ours. Wrath, for God, never comes without restoration. God’s justice always ends injustice. When we take wrath into our own hands, we simply perpetuate the hopelessness and horror of the situation. God’s wrath is soaked in love and clothed in forgiveness but God does not turn his head to the situation, his forgiveness does not simply shrug off sin. On the contrary, God’s forgiveness and his wrath are one. God’s forgiveness is about offering the freedom of reconciliation, and there’s work in reconciliation. There’s hard, painful, and sometimes nearly torturous consequences to sin, these consequences must lead to redemption. God’s heart breaks over the consequences which must be suffered in order to reach true restoration and in order for amends to be made. For us to leave this kind of wrath up to God, we have to get out of the way and we have to forgive. I’m not saying that we should do nothing, in fact we should respond to injustice swiftly but not without forgiveness and love. Therefore there is a role for the justice system and it is a good one. The role of the justice system should be to create space for God’s wrath and to implement the kind of consequences which lead to restoration. These would likely be painful consequences for someone like John Gardner but (and it is nothing less than scandalous to say this) God will go with him. Gardner may very well reject God’s presence, but God won’t give up on him even if we’d want him to.

Many of us don’t want to forgive. Some of us are not ready to forgive. But the only way to peace, the only way to true justice, and the only way for us to find freedom from our anger is through radical forgiveness and love. This is the only life-giving response. Rather than crying out “crucify him” or “kill him” we should pray for him, pray for his family, pray for the families of the girls he’s killed and look with broken hearts toward the consequences he must now face. Ultimately we should pray for true redemption and that we might be a part of it. We must turn the situation back in the right direction. We need to see the face of Jesus even in the most morally bankrupt people and in the faces of the most wretched. Our capacity to love must exceed their capacity to destroy.

Most of all, we must pray for the families of Chelsea and Amber. We must pray that they find freedom, closure, and peace. Our hearts should break for their loss and for the pain that has been inflicted on them. Pray that God will be with them on this journey and that we, the church, might offer them healing wherever we are given the opportunity.

God of comfort and rest, fill us with hope in hopelessness and forgiveness where there is nothing but vengeance. Give our tired souls rest from our anger, frustration, and bitterness. May we be filled with the same love that caused you to speak words of forgiveness from a cross. Amen.

Tony Jones talks about developing a “robust pneumatology,” rather a language for it, within the emergent movement in What Emergents Have to Learn From Pentecostals.  He writes,

“I can tell you that I and other emergents experience God’s activity today, but we need help in finding the language to articulate that experience.  As Pentecostals, you have worked for over a century to forge a theological language that articulates divine action – what you likely call a ‘fresh movement of the Spirit.’  My hope is that emergents can learn from Pentecostals how to discern the movement of God and articulate that in ways that will build God’s kingdom.” Read the article

Joshua at Jesus Manifesto offers strong critiques for the church. Do the gatherings we attend on Sunday morning even remotely resemble the kind of revolutionary movement of the early church? Read Why I don’t believe in “Church” and see if you still believe in “church”

Wright writes, “I am convinced that when we bring our griefs and sorrows within the story of God’s own grief and sorrow, and allow them to be held there, God is able to bring healing to us ans new possibilities to our lives. That is, of course, what Good Friday and Easter are all about” (from the introduction). Wright rightly suggests that when we go through the process of actually “owning up to the grief which we often hide,” without pretending that it isn’t there or simply bottling it up, allowing it to play it’s melody alongside Christ’s passion, we can find creative new possibilities, even new creation, on the other side.

This is a powerful collection of reflections, one for each day of Holy Week, which gives new life to the story of redemption and to the meaning of each day of Holy Week. I would recommend this as a great devotional for Holy Week this year or for any week of the year for that matter.

Lynn is the pastor at the church Sarah and I have been attending.

“This is the lenten season, and there will be a silent procession instead of a procession with the usual hymns from the beginning of Lent until Easter Sunday.”

I can feel the difference of which she speaks.  It is something you feel in the bones.  A bit of a hollow feeling.

I like that there are seasons in this church.  As an evangelical growing up in California, seasons are not something I am used to.  Church was more or less the same no matter what day of the week you went.

There is a time to scatter, and a time to gather.

A time to grow, and a time to cease from planting.

There is a time to live, and a time to die.

There is a time to work, and a time to rest.

I have generally always had a problem with discussions about what is broadly referred to as “Sin Nature.” Rarely do people who use this term on a regular basis really seem to have a grasp of its irony. People are often too comfortable using this term to refer to “the way it is” and to what it means to be human. I think we far too often neglect the Imago Dei, the Image of God, in the conversation.

When I was reading up a little and playing, as I often do, on Wikipedia (which, as a wannabe scholar, I must forbid) I found their wording to be just great: “Imago Dei… is a concept and theological doctrine” (although I would say it’s much more) “that asserts that human beings are created in God’s image and therefore have…” and here’s the kicker… “inherent value independent of their utility or function.” Man! Wouldn’t it be great if we really allowed this “concept” to shape us? How would we see our own identity? Caught up in how we perform and measure-up or simply given to us as a gift, created in us? Our value is something over which we have no power and thus it is something we cannot diminish. God holds it and God refuses to let it be diminished completely. And this God who created within us that value, that image, meets us in the places where we are taken and where we take ourselves–places where value and image just seem impossible and invisible–and this God remembers us. God “remembered” Noah when the world was on its’ way to destruction (Genesis 8), God remembered the people of Israel when their slavery should have made them invisible (Exodus 2:24), God remembers the Image created in us even when we are prone to forget it and to give up on it. Therefore, though the patterns of the world and the religious standards of righteousness continually seek to label us with and embed within us the name “sinner,” and though sin tries to overwhelm our very nature, God continuously insists that “we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works.” God remembers the image he created in us and, through Christ, refuses to give up on it. Somehow God sees light in our darkness.

The irony of the term “sin nature” is in the fact that our nature is not sin. It is because our nature–that which was created in us–is to do “good works” that sin is what it is. What makes sin sin is that it is against the nature which God placed in us, it is contrary to the Spirit of God which gives us breath, it is against creation and thus sin leads to destruction. No story captures the destructiveness and the anti-creation-ness of sin more vividly than that of Noah and the deluge. Sin came into the world and systematically dismantled the creation God had created and of which He said “it is very good.” But God interrupted the story, remembered the Image which was created in us, and began his work of restoration.

Sin is not our nature, rather sin is that which distorts our nature. Our nature is to live in harmony with God and with others and sin distorts our relationship with God and with others. Thus “sin nature” ironically communicates an oxymoron. I think that Paul, unless he had a very different understanding of the word “nature,” held this irony within his perspective. What he’s observing is sin’s ability to inhabit our hearts and hijack our identity. But he is not saying that the Image of God has been destroyed to the point that our only hope is to escape creation altogether and hope that God will make us something we are not. I just read, on the back of John Ortberg’s new book The Me I Want To Be, a great phrase which read, “God wants to redeem you not exchange you.” He wants to redeem the good, his Image, within you not exchange it for a whole new and different one.

Within our conversations about sin we must do the hard work of balance–balancing the severity of sin with the reality of the endurance of the Image of God within us. The image of God is still there, people are still good. Pelagius saw this, even if he did fail to balance it out. To quote someone who might usually be quoted in the other direction, Saint Augustine wrote;

“…all things are good even if they are corrupted. They could not be corrupted if they were supremely good but unless they were good they could not be corrupted… if they were not good at all, there would be nothing in them to be corrupted… all that is corrupted is thereby deprived of good. But if they are deprived of all good, they will cease to be… So long as they are, they are good. Therefore, whatsoever is, is good.”

If we are still here, if there is still breath in us, then we cannot be reduced to total corruption. For according to Augustine, if something exists it is good. It’s not that everything that exists is as it should be, but it remains good nonetheless. For Augustine, evil had no substance of its’ own, it was not created, it does not belong. Evil then, is not a force which imposes itself upon good but it is the state in which good things find themselves when their interactions become corrupted. “For in him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28). Our very existence is testament to our having been created in God’s image and to our having God’s image still residing in the core of our being. Augustine continues, “…each by itself is good, and the sum of all of them is very good, for our God made all things very good” (see Genesis 1). God’s image is still within us and it shines froth from us, sometimes only visible in God’s sight, through all the muck of sin that we place in front of it.

So What does sin do to us if it does not destroy the Image of God within us? Well we don’t just become sinners at the drop of a hat, rather we sin until we become sinners. Through habitual disobedience and through influences which coerce our ability to will the good, sin enters our identity and makes us something we are not. It manipulates us and God’s Image within us so that rather than embodying and reflecting our Creator’s goodness we reflect destruction and despair. One theology student put it well, “you get up early every morning until you become an ‘early riser.’” What was once something you did, an action you performed from a different point of reference, becomes the point of reference itself. It becomes ingrained within you. Sin has a way of doing the same thing. Whereas we were created to do good works so that we would eventually become good workers, we walked a different path. We sinned, we hurt ourselves, we accepted the identity imposed on us by others, we allowed the world to trample us, we used religion against God, and we corrupted creation until we became sinners.

What Christ does, what justification is all about, is remembering the Image of God. He puts us back at the beginning of the fork in the road, restores in us our vocation of good work and empowers us to do good works until we become good workers, to live in joy until we become joyful people, to make peace until we become peacemakers, and to love until we become lovers. Christ, the one who never gave in to the temptation of sin and who refused to see us as “nothing but sinners,” restores the Image of God within us.

One rule by which I try to live is this: never use a Disney movie as a theological illustration… I am about to break that rule.

In Beauty and the Beast (which really didn’t start out as a Disney Movie, but who can help but think of Belle in a yellow dress talking to candlesticks and clocks?), there is a beast living in a castle, separate from his community, feared by them, and banished. His relationships have been obviously corrupted. The world refuses to see in him any image of what he once was. They see him as “nothing but a beast.” But a pure-hearted young lady finds herself trapped in his castle. At first she is frightened by him and can’t see any good in him. But when she puts in the work of actually getting to know him, she starts to see in him something good. She eventually refuses to see him as “nothing but a beast.” She sees in him and image worthy of restoration. Yes, with every snarl and with every growl the beast reflects his corrupted state. But the woman stays with him and affirms his humanity even though, to any other eyes, none remains in him. Past the condemnation of the townspeople and through the claws and the fur, the woman sees the image of something beautiful. And although corruption had threatened to destroy him forever, love saves the day and restores the image within him. He is restored to his true and unadulterated identity.

With every sin and every failure, indeed with every self-loathing act, we reflect our corrupted state. We show our inadequacy. But there is a God who stays with us, who has put in the work of getting to know us, who sees something worthy of redemption in us, and who lovingly saves the day.

It is now our task to stay with the world, to bear with each other, as God has in Christ. We must be the Body of the very Christ who refuses to see people as “nothing but sinners.” And thus we must refuse to see people as “nothing but sinners.” Jesus said “love your neighbor as yourself.” See in your neighbor the image that God sees in you, past the sin and past the signs of corruption. Jesus said “love your enemies.” See in your enemies the image of the God who forgives and who has forgiven you. Mirror God’s saving work and offer it to others, even to those in whom you cannot see the image of God. “Whatsoever is, is good.” Whoever stands in front of you is created in God’s Image and is therefore worthy of salvation because God’s love makes them so.

Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you” (Colossians 3:13).

If I were going to recommend any Bible, it would be the New Oxford Annotated Bible, as this is the only one that I have read that tries to provide the reader with a diversity of information and scholarship.  This book may be good though if you are looking for a way to read the bible devotionally and are a recovering addict.

Because the book was labeled as ancient practices I was expecting a bit more church history in the book.  With my criticisms aside, I would like to say the book is worth reading if you are inspired by individual stories.  They did inspire me to want to give more and it had some interesting about tithing in the book.

Poppy seeds are used to make heroine, opium, and other drugs, but it can also be used to make morphine and other medicine. The book went into great detail as to how drug dealers and the Taliban are intertwined in their mission in Afghanistan. The Taliban has been known for starting diversionary wars while drug traffickers smuggle their drugs in and out of Afghanistan. The money makes hundreds of millions of dollars each year.

After reading this, the best thing for the United States to do would be to help put in a place a system for farmers that pays them a fair market share comparable to the underground heroine trade for their poppy seeds, but then use the seeds for medicinal and helpful purposes. Farms need to be protected by Afghan and American soldiers, and investigations and prosecution of those who kill farmers selling to the United States need to be brought to justice. There is no price on how important a new system like this would be for the future stability of Afghanistan.

After creating such a system, there needs to be a sustained and vigilant effort that investigates the underground drug trade in Afghanistan. A bilateral force of US-trained operatives (who know and understand Afghani culture) and Afghan police need to take part in this investigation and follow it through till the end. The eradication of drug trafficking in the region is crucial to ending any kind of war on the terrorists of the region.

Finally, with a new system in a place and the extinguishing of drug trafficking, the new government needs to subsidize heavily the production of fruits and vegetables needed to feed the Afghan people. Because the drug trade is so profitable, there is little incentive for farmers to grow food that the people of Afghanistan so desperately need.

None of these things will be easy to implement, but these three things would see the beginning of a sustainable movement within Afghanistan.