Theological Language

Keith, the leaders in our church read and discuss the current theological theories of the ancient biblical message. I can’t really understand what they are arguing about, but I know my life has changed a lot. My wife says I’m a different person, and I am very grateful for all that has happened to me. I’ve been asked to speak to the men’s group at our church, and I’m very nervous about doing that. I don’t feel like I know enough about the theology of the church to speak about it. Any help you can give me or suggestions about books you’ve written (or read) would be appreciated.

I can really identify with the feeling of not knowing enough to speak and being asked to talk about the faith the first time before a sizable group of people. But a friend told me a story that helped me see how stupid talking in correct theological religious language can sound to non-theologically trained people.

A young theological student at a seminary I once attended was asked to speak to a sophisticated parish in a Connecticuton a specific theological subject.Although he had never spoken on the subject before, he was an “A” student, and with confidence in his communication skills he gathered all the books that he needed on the assigned subject and put them in a suitcase. His plan was to get on the train at New Haven, spread the books out on the seat opposite from his, compose his masterpiece of a sermon, then get off the train in New Canaan and preach (a plan which—given the short distance between the two towns—would take a lot of confidence).

He was running late that Sunday morning, but managed to run down the platform and jump on the train just as it was pulling out of the station. But to his surprise, it was a holiday train, packed with people, and he couldn’t find a place to sit down. With his suitcase of books clutched to his chest, he began to go from one car to the next in a state of rising panic. At last he came to an empty car. With a huge sigh of relief he sat down, spread his books out, and began to compose his sermon.

In a few moments the porter came through and said, “Pardon me, sir, this car is reserved. We’re picking up some people from the mental institution at the next stop and we’re taking them down toNew York Cityfor a physical Monday morning.”

The student looked up with a broad smile and said, “That’s all right, porter, I’ll take full responsibility. I’m a divinity student.”

The porter looked at him, then shook his head and said, “All right.” So sure enough, at the next stop a bunch of people got on the almost empty car and began to mill all around this young man. He pulled his books in as the car filled and the people sat down all around him. The last person to get on was a man in a white jacket with a clipboard who said in a loud clear voice, “All right, everybody, sit down and be quiet!” After they all settled down around the student, the man with the clipboard began to count the occupants in the car, pointing his finger at each person. “One, two, three, four, five, six . . .” and he came to the student and stopped, not recognizing him. He said, “Pardon me, who are you, and what are you doing here?”
The young man looked up with a confident smile and said, “Well, I guess you could say I’m a new-Kierkegaardian existentialist. Actually, I’m an Episcopal theological student from Berkeley Divinity School, and I’m preparing an address on the eschatological implications and general efficacy of the redemption as expressed in the atonement.”

The man in the white jacket looked at him skeptically for a few seconds, then, pointing his finger directly at the young man, continued: “. . . seven, eight, nine, ten . . .”

Of course, that’s an exaggerated story, but it is true that much of our religious language is not comprehensible to outsiders”—whether the terminology we use is the “neo-Kierkegaardian existentialist,” or “Hallelujah, Praise the Lord.”

It is also true that simple stories about real life told in everyday language can be very effective in communicating the gospel to very sophisticated people.

My friend Chuck Huffman, an ordained minister, tells a story about his first assignment in a large church after seminary. He was supposed to substitute for a professional speaker before a sizable group of people at the church. He was uneasy because in this group was going to be the eminent New Testament scholar, Dr. John Knox, who had been a professor of Chuck’s at seminar, and was his graduate supervisor.

The man for whom Chuck was substituting suggested that he just tell his own story of how he became a Christian. But with three years of top grades in theology in his pocket and with John Knox in the audience, Chuck was terrified. He just knew that telling his story would be ineffective and would appear naïve to Professor Knox. But after much anguish Chuck decided to go ahead and tell his story. After he spoke, Dr. Knox stood rather abruptly and walked out. Chuck’s heart sank.Mrs. Knox came up to Chuck and said, “John will tell you later how much your talk meant to him. He can’t now, because he was so touched that he’s still weeping.”
Lord, thank you that every time the apostle Paul got in a jam with powerful, educated people—judges in law courts or kings—who had the power of life and death over him, he simply told the story of how he met Jesus on the road to Damascus, and how Paul’s life was changed by that encounter. Help me not to try to show off all the big words or current theological thoughts I have read, but to remember how you told stories to the people. In Jesus’  Name, Amen.

(Why tell stories to help all kinds of people?)

After telling the crowds a number of stories/parables:

“The disciples came up and asked, “Why do you tell stories?”

He replied, “You’ve been given insight into God’s kingdom. You know how it works. Not everybody has this gift, this insight; it hasn’t been given to them. Whenever someone has a ready heart for this, the insights and understandings flow freely. But if there is no readiness, any trace of receptivity soon disappears. That’s why I tell stories: to create readiness, to nudge the people toward receptive insight. In their present state they can stare till doomsday and not see it, listen till they’re blue in the face and not get it.” (Matthew 13:10-14)The Message

A Tunnel into the Kingdom of God

Keith, I know I drink too much. I am a Christian and I attend church.  I’m even asked to teach classes on the Bible and the history of the church. I always assumed I could quit (drinking) but after two DUI’s, I’m frightened and have backed away from God and my family vacillates between pleading with me to change and isolating from me in disgust.  I hear you had a drinking problem at one time, then I didn’t hear about you until recently.  What happened to you?

Dear J.,

In 1976 my wife and I were divorced. I was sick at heart, and what made it worse was that it was my fault. I walked the beaches of Mustang Island, wept, and cried out to God, confessing my sin and my powerlessness.

I was a professional speaker and writer, but suddenly not many Christians wanted me to come and speak or read my books. And so my financial world crashed too.

I finally went for help, and told my mentor in tears that no one wanted me. It helped to share my failure and misery. Then I recalled a visit years before with an outstanding minister from England named Ernest Southcott.[1][1]After hearing my story, he said thoughtfully, “Keith, you are very disciplined. And it sounds like your spiritual journey is to climb the spiritual mountain, calling back down to other more timid spiritual pilgrims,‘Look out here, there’s slippery shale!’, or‘Watch out for the spiritual cougars in this are.’But Keith, you’re so disciplined that it would take a very committed spiritual athlete to follow you over the mountain.”

“But I still believe that’s my vocation: to help people cross the mountains that stand between them and God.”

“Yes, but there is another way to get them to the other side of the mountain.”

“What’s that?”

“Dig a tunnel through the mountain. Then even a spiritual cripple in a wheelchair can reach the other side.”

I was stunned. “That’s amazing. It’s obviously true but why don’t more spiritual guides ‘dig a tunnel’?”

“Because,” he answered, “to dig a tunnel, one has to disappear from public view for a long time—and not many Christian leader types are willing to ‘disappear’ that long. People might forget them.”

So years after that night with Father Southcott, I realized that I had to quit worrying about what I had lost in the public arena, and begin quietly to face the issues in my own life and get that in order. In the process I learned about my compulsive workaholic life and the ways I used people, places, and substances to overcome the pain I was in because of my own sin. Consequently as I quit trying to get church leaders to like me, and went to a treatment center, I began to recover. I disappeared into the world of other people who were in serious pain. For more than twenty years I prayed, studied, wrote books, counseled and lectured to people in pain because of their addictions (including addiction to food, work, alcohol, sex, and religion). I learned to listen for God’s guidance, read the Bible in a different way, and I met several times a week with people who also wanted recovery and to learn how to surrender to God.

And I tried to learn what God has given us on this journey to deal with our fear, pain, and our bruised and broken relationships with him, other people, and ourselves. And although I didn’t‘disappear’voluntarily, I realized that I was tunneling into the mountain of pain and fear and might someday be able to help other people to get beyond these mountains of the fear, shame and pain in their lives, which had been generated by their sin and compulsive living.In this tunnel of recovery, I was invisible to the Christian world, but I’d found a new world of people on a deeply spiritual journey who were also longing to learn the truth about how God can free us and teach us to love and receive love.

The one day not too long ago, after many years, I got an invitation to speak to a conference of hundreds of Christian ministers about God’s love and healing for addicts and alcoholics. And I wrote several books about problems I’d discovered in my life that I hadn’tbeen able to see—even as a Christian.

Coming out of the tunnel after all these years, I am not the same somehow—quieter inside—and I see God in the world in a different way. I don’t feel driven to “be on the program,” and I’m not very interested in being something “big.” Most of the time I’d rather just love the people in our families and in our town, and tell some people who are tired of their fear and loneliness and discouraged about their relationships, that God really can bring a transforming life with peace in the midst of it all. And I want to tell them about the love I’m discovering for the little child inside of me, for God, for my family, and for the other people that God has put in my life—maybe even including some of you who read these words.

Lord, thank you for those Christians who forgave me when I felt so shameful and undeserving. And help me never to forget how painful it was when other Christian people could not forgive my sin, so that I can represent you better when others who have sinned repent and come back toward your church. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

“David said to Nathan,‘I have sinned against the Lord,’And Nathan said to David,‘The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die.” 11 Samuel 12:13

“Miners hammer away at the rock, they uproot the mountains. Theytunnelthrough the rock and find all kinds of beautiful gems. They discover the origins of rivers, and bring earth’s secrets to light.” Job 28:9-11 The Message

God in a Ruffled Blouse and Small Brown Shoes

What is the authentic sign that someone is filled with God’s spirit and love the way Jesus was?

I wish I could send the following letter to the woman, a teacher, whom God used to change my life one day, simply by being who she was and doing what she did so often in our classroom.

Dear Mrs. Smith,

I don’t know where you’ve gone since that fourth grade class nearly seventy years ago. But if there is a special room in heaven for fourth grade teachers, I know you’re there. Do you still pull your hair up in a bun and wear ruffled blouses and small brown shoes the way you did as an “older” teacher (probably 33)?

Somehow, when you came around and bent over my desk, the rest of the world disappeared and we were alone. I’m not sure how you did it—but it made me feel very loved. Each of us must have thought, “It’s me! I’m the special one!”

You seemed to bring a glass bubble of caring and put it over the two of us so we could talk safely, privately. No longer did I have to be tough and swear and make nasty signs at the other boys. I’ll never forget that rainy day you brought us back the graded stories we’d turned in the Friday before.

Your eyes were shining.“John Keith,” you said in your quiet voice, “your story is excellent!” (you paused while you looked at the story, and I turned red. Then you continued, “You know,” and you nodded your head slowly. “I think you can become a very fine writer some day.”

First thought: “Oh no, if the other guys hear that, they willneverquit teasing me. I could hear them shouting already,‘Johnny is a wri-ter! Johnny is a wri-ter!’I’d have to whip them all.”

Second thought: “My gosh, she reallymeansit! Maybe Icouldbe a writer some day!” Then skyrocket thoughts going off in my mind: amazement, wonder, confirmation, fear, joy!

As a writer was being born in my gut that day, Mrs. Smith, you touched my shoulder and smiled a special smile about our secret, and moved on. As I sat there in your afterglow, I knew I’d been visited by an angel-messenger from God.

Today, remembering that moment, I can see that you planted a seed in my life that is still alive—not only about becoming a writer, but about how to love as a Christian. Your caring attention was warm, like a spotlight that god had given you to focus wherever you wanted to. And as you shined that spotlight on who we were inside, on the hidden hopes and dreams and loneliness, God’s love slid down the beam of your attention into our hearts and helped us see that we just might belovable and worthwhile, in spite of our insecurities and fears.

I watched you as you continued up and down the rows. I’m sure I must have had a dumb adoring smile on my face. And then I shook my head in amazement. You had stopped next to that mean Burt Logan.

And Burt was smiling back!

Thank you, Mrs. Smith,—for Burt and me, and for all the dozens of other scared, mean-looking fourth graders whom you taught over all those years, about finding hope and dreams…and about loving.

Lord, thank you that your footprints have always been mingled with ours even if you were wearing small brown shoes at the time. Amen.

“Do you want to stand out? Then step down. Be a servant. If you puff yourself up, you’ll get the wind knocked out of you. But if you’re content to simplybe yourself, your life will count for plenty.” Mt. 23:10-12 The Message

“Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another. This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples—when they see the love you have for each other.” John 13:34-35 The Message

I Feel Alone…

I feel alone in my own house sometimes. How did we become so afraid to share our intimate thoughts?

No one, it seems, is really sure about how human development takes place. And it is apparent from reading in the field of developmental psychology that crucial direction changing experiences can happen to different children at different ages. But in order to get a rough picture of how our identities may develop, imagine with me for a few minutes that it is a simple story (which it is not, of course).

From the time it is born a child responds naturally and openly to the people and events in his or her life with tears, contented looks or laughter. Dr. Paul Tournier, a Swiss Internist and founder of the concept of the “medicine of the person,” calls this natural responding self the child’s “person.” Along with the needs for food, water, air and sleep, the child has an inherent need to be loved by its parents or caretakers. And all goes well as long as the natural responses of the child are not in conflict with the desires or belief of the parent figures.But when the youngster unknowingly crosses a no-no line, life is no longer simple.

For instance, a guest may be entranced with the cooing noises a baby is making in its high chair while waiting for breakfast. And the mother is delighted. But five minutes later when the baby blows a mouthful of warm oatmeal all over the guests’face and Sunday clothes—a trick very similar to cooingfrom the baby’s perspective—the mother is furious, says “NO!’AND SLAPS THE BABY’S HAND. And after a few more tries the baby realizes that he or she will not get love from mother by blowing oatmeal on guests. So the child learns to hide the urge to blow oatmeal.

But there is a problem. The child has never hidden anything. Remember that the little “person” responds naturally and honestly. How then do we learn to hide our unacceptable feelings?

Tournier says that something happens at this point (at some point) which allows us to hide. We develop what he calls “personages.” A personage is like a selection of painted masks with expressions of the thoughts and feelings which I feel will get me love and acceptance from the people around me. All of us develop several of these personages/personalities, each with its own presenting language.

A child develops a “parent” personage—with a language all of its own for dealing with its parents. In every major area of our lives, it seems, we develop a personage which is designed to portray to the people in authority in that group the proper images whereby we can gain their love or approval—regardless of what the actual feelings of our inner person may be about that group or activity.

The personage is not like the “mask” we speak of inAmerica. The American mask is opaque. But a personage is partially transparent. That is, I amafraid for you to see through my personage for fear that you’ll reject me, but I alsolongfor you to see through the personage to the person hiding behind it—hoping that you will know me and love me. But in actual experience we are usually not conscious of the fact that we even have personages. We just vaguely notice occasionally that we talk and act differently in different situations.

***

This information may shed some light on how we get to be afraid to share our intimate thoughts even with the people we love the most.So what can we do about it?When the separation of our personages from our person gets great enough that we repress our person’s feelings and get terribly anxious, we often go for help.Let’s say that I’ve decided to go to a counselor…Here I may enter what Tournier calls a “person-dialouge.”This happens when two people are willing to lay down their personages and talk about their real feelings—their persons.All healing starts when the client or patient quits communicating through his or her personages and begins to talk directly about her feelings.

But the process is long and sometimes fearful.When you are a counselee and you get one honest unflattering feeling out, it feels as if you have found a little thread sticking out of the corner of your mouth.By expressing the feeling you are handing the thread to the therapist.As he or she responds, it’s as if the thread is pulled a little. And you find there is a string tied to the thread—a deeper feeling—and as the string is drawn out, there’s a rope tied to it.And there is a chain tied to the rope.But as you feel the chain coming out you can almost hear a “bucket of garbage” coming up tied to the chain.

For some, learning to do this may require help from a counselor or minister or perhaps in a safe small group*.For some this process may take a long time, and be very frightening.But the miraculous thing about a person-dialogue is that when a person “comes out” and is honest about who he or she really is—with true feelings attached—and feels sort of emotionally naked before us on any significant level, I have found him or her always to have a haunting family resemblance to Jesus Christ.Realpeople being vulnerable are, it seems beautiful and lovable.And if that’s true, then you and I can be included.

Lord, thank you that because you are with us, we are never really alone.Help us to move toward the real people you have put in our lives and to be willing to come out from behind our masks, lay down our personages andreallytalk to each other. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

One such truth: “you shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8:32, NIV

“Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out; you formed me in my mother’s womb. I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration—what a creation!You know meinside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, The days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day.” Psalm 139:13-16, The Message

Is Anyone Out There?

What did Jesus say God would give us to overcome our solitary fears?

I remember clearly a particular day when I was four that marked the beginning of my own conscious search for the answer to that question.Happy warfare with small, bright lead soldiers on an ancient oriental rug, worn off in spots by a thousand such battles—and hundreds of other walking steps, marching through my parents’upstairs bedroom to bed. A battered tablespoon, an old brass tray—the gong to start and end each tiny epic struggle.

Then awareness!—total—I was all alone.My mother out back hanging up the wash. Then the hot-faced, wide-eyed, awful fear and dread!

“IT” was coming out of hiding in the closet, attic, basement, God only knew its secret lairs!My heart beat so loudly I knew it could hear and come to devour me, or worse, carry me away—like some winged older brother to torture and torment me forever! Silence! The grandfather clock ticked in the hall to disguise the monster’s tiny clawed feet and measured hissing breath.

In terror I began to sing and beat the gong—“Make noise and sound courageous—to scare away the boogie man,” my inner voices screamed! Maybe it would not get me if I could just sound strong. (So that’s where it started.)
Through crystalline rivers of tears—as I sang at the top of my voice—I could almost see the shadows of the fangs and beak of the monster projected in the designs of the flowered wallpaper in front of me—for an eternity of hour-long seconds. Then the distant “bang”—the back screen door slamming—the signal that my cavalry was going to charge over the hillside against the dragon.

“MU—THER!”—my own thin voice screaming! I knew the monster heard me too, so I beat the gong twice harder and heard running footsteps on the stair. “Dear God, let it be my mother!”

Then the door burst open!

It was she!

The brave gong-beater disappeared, and a terrified, sobbing four-year-old ran forth and buried his tear-drenched face into the cool ruffled cotton apron.

My mother—JOAN OF ARC—bigger somehow than my dragon/beast, sent it scurrying back into its dark lair, as she pressed me to her bosom. And let me sob.

As I cried, once more dread bubbled up from inside and filled me with a new terror.What if MOTHER died? Who would save me then?

Or would I only find a bigger spoon and gong—and a way to sing a louder song?

Lord, thank you that my fear drove me to try to find security in all kinds of ways…until I was finally able to surrender my pride enough to cry out to you—and to discover you’ve been in here all the time. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

“I will not leave you orphaned. I’m coming back. In just a little while the world will no longer see me, but you’re going to see me because I am alive and you’re about to come alive. At that moment you will know absolutely that I’m in my Father, and you’re in me, and I’m in you.” John 14:18 The Message

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