Seeing through the Mundane

By David Horn, ThD
Director, The Ockenga Institute

Perhaps poets have this perspective in a way that most of us don’t, poets and novelists. If they have taught us anything through the years, it is that in the smallest, mundane details often overlooked in our lives are revealed the greatest truths. It is in the linnet’s wings of Yeats, and the common spider web of Frost, and the mundane daily trek out into the ocean by Hemingway’s fisherman that we find the largeness of life and death exposed.

Profound truth embedded in the mundane: Perhaps this is why we miss so much of what makes our lives so rich and worth living. We look far out over the distant horizon to understand our lives and, in doing so, we overlook the meaning that is right there in front of us. We so often find ourselves tyrannized by the familiar, allowing the redundancy of time and familiarity of place to rob us daily of what is most important in our lives and souls.

All this crossed my mind the past three days as my colleague and historian, Garth Rosell, and I led a group of individuals from the west coast on a Spiritual Heritage Tour of the north shore of Boston. For those of us who live here in New England, chances are many days we walk unthinkingly over ground that Whitefield may have trod on his way to preaching to thousands upon thousands of his fellow colonialists. Or, without giving it a second thought, we pass by the place where the young D.L. Moody was converted in downtown Boston, a mere stones throw from where the five men fell during the Boston Massacre. Or, could any of us be accused of being more interested in window shopping the stores of Salem without a thought that the modern missionary movement was given birth right there on its shores?: Holy ground masquerading as common, everyday terra firma.

The privilege of leading the tour for these thirty some modern pilgrims involved, of course, the opportunity to point out the significance of places that have long since faded into the woodwork. To multiply our efforts, Dr. Rosell has written a self guided tour book, Exploring New England’s Spiritual Heritage: Seven Daytrips for Contemporary Pilgrims. Hot off the press, the Ockenga Institute has had the privilege of editing and publishing the tour book. For those of you who may be interested in purchasing a copy, please stay tuned to our website for further information in the coming weeks.

What Words Do and Don’t

By Sean McDonough, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

“What is Conscience?” That was the question on the poster for a college roundtable discussion, replete with a picture of Homer Simpson flanked by Little Devil Homer and Little Angel Homer. (I still tend to speak of Little Devil Donald Duck and Little Angel Donald Duck…times change.) What interested me was not so much the question of conscience itself, but rather the way we talk, and therefore think, about things like conscience. (We are back, in other words, to the same concerns we raised in our previous Every Thought Captive posting.)

“What is Conscience?”, for instance, may imply that there is some absolute entity Conscience out there (where?), and that it is of the utmost importance that we figure out precisely what it is so that we use the word correctly. Academics serve as a kind of Truth in Advertising Commission, determined to make sure the product matches the label and the label matches the product. Granted that Conscience does not consist of two tiny spiritual beings atop separate shoulders, what is it…really?

But I am not at all sure that this is how words function – or at least how words like Conscience function. The picture of Devil Homer and Angel Homer might be silly, but it still effectively communicates the reality that we often find ourselves in inner conflict about what to do in a given situation. It is as if there are two voices inside me offering different counsel, and yet both those voices are somehow me. Devil Homer and Angel Homer provide a humorous visual expression of that reality; the word “conscience” just labels the same phenomenon a bit more efficiently. (The rabbis, for their part, spoke of the Good Inclination and the Evil Inclination within people; so it is not as if this is a new issue.)

You could fruitfully explore how we get that sense of good and evil, or how it works out in various individuals or cultures, but it is not as if you were going to discover something you didn’t know a good deal about already. The reality gives birth to the word, and not vice versa. The word does not magically capture the essence of the thing and bury that essence within the letters. It simply points more or less effectively to what we know.

You could use another word to point to it, if you wanted.

We face something similar in recent discussions of “the soul”. There has been a raft of commentary both inside and outwith the evangelical world lately to the effect that we don’t have a soul. It would be more accurate, some suggest, to say that we are a soul. Now, there is certainly something to this. Many Christians assume that God is only concerned with invisible person within them, and not with the body they just happen to inhabit. But surely the Scriptures have their eye on the whole person as a responsible (or irresponsible) member of the community of faith, such that one’s actions are just as important as one’s inner thoughts and feelings. The fact that the Bible regularly uses psyche for life in general rather than just the “soul” gives added weight to these critiques. If we turn to everyday life, we can all cite examples of where physical illness precipitates a change in our “soul” – the kindly and patient grandmother turns crotchety in her old age; the learned and affable mentor becomes confused and depressed with the onset of Alzheimers. Was it their “soul” that changed, or their body?

But does that really mean that all this talk in Scripture and the church about a “soul” is completely misguided? Of course not. Just as “conscience” effectively points towards the idea of inner conflict, so “soul” crisply captures the reality that we have an interior awareness of things distinguishable from mere bodily functions (even if that awareness is admittedly enmeshed with bodily functions). We can make decisions to do things that our bodies don’t necessarily want to do, from leaving the last brownie on the plate to rushing into gunfire to rescue a fallen comrade. Everyone knows this, and “soul” is the way we point towards that thing we already know about.

The trouble only comes when we imagine that the “soul” is a “piece” of us in the same way that our gall bladders or our toenails are – that if we disassembled a human we would find the soul squished inside the chest cavity or tangled around their kidneys. Once we get past that, we can recognize that “soul” is a perfectly adequate way of speaking about that interior dimension of a person that we all experience – indeed, it is far more adequate than having to go around speaking of “that interior dimension of a person” all the time. We don’t need to give an exhaustive account of precisely “what” the soul is, or precisely how it functions – it could be the sort of thing that simply doesn’t yield to that kind of investigation. Scientific investigation and philosophical speculation might not be the right tools for thinking about “soul” or “conscience”.

But the words “soul” and “conscience” are pretty good ways of speaking about those realities in everyday life.

Watch Your Language

By Sean McDonough, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

Most readers of this piece will already know that the word “theology” consists of the Greek words for “God” (Theo’s) and “word/speech/account” ((logos). What we sometimes forget is that this logos is our account of God, and not God’s account of himself. Theology walks down the path of human language. Trouble, as it often does, lies on either side of this path.

On the one side, we may be tempted to despair that we can say anything meaningful at all about God. This sentiment has been around for ages, but it is particularly popular in the modern non-Christian world. All our words about God, to cite the popular fable, are just the gropings of blind men describing an elephant. (The twist, of course, is that the enlightened tale-teller knows it’s an elephant – but this never seems to get noted.) Christians, who have experienced God’s Word in the deeds and words of Jesus the Messiah, can steer clear of that danger pretty easily.

The other trap is one to which evangelicals are perhaps more prone; and that is imagining that our language about God is simple and exhaustive, and thus – unlike all other human speech -- needs no qualifications. Indeed, for some people the search for just this kind of unequivocal speech about God constitutes the essence of the theological task.

The first sign that God himself does not seem to endorse this sort of talk comes from the nature of Scripture itself. If the goal of theology is to give a perfectly straightforward, reasonable account of God, we have to admit the Bible does a pretty poor job of it. We have compilations of stories from a distant place in a strange language, none of which explain themselves very much. We have commandments which are rather more straightforward…but while some of them make instant sense (“don’t mislead a blind man on the path”), others remain obscure (“don’t boil a kid in its mother’s milk”). Even the clearest summary statements about God can raise some questions even as they answer others: “The Lord, the Lord, compassionate and gracious, showing mercy to thousands and judgment to threes…” So, yes, he is more merciful than judgmental: but how does he decide when to be which?

In response to this we often try to be clearer than Scripture itself. “The most important thing to know about God”, some will assert, “is that he pursues his own glory.” Now, there are any number of Scripture passages that back up this assertion, and thus every Christian ought to heartily affirm it. But as soon as we put the thought into a specific language, and speak it to actual people, problems arise. To take the most pressing one: the idiom “to seek one’s own glory” in modern English carries overwhelmingly negative connotations. The bare statement, “God seeks his own glory”, is in danger of painting a portrait of God as a megalomaniacal dictator, the Kim Jong-Il of a cosmic North Korean kingdom. Surely we must do better than that.

But what can we do? We can’t simply shrink back and refuse to speak about God. He has said and done too much in our presence to make that a viable option. We have to speak. But if we take the Scripture as our guide, we will be liberated to speak of him in a fully human language comfortable with paradox and qualifications. We will be happy to let God’s speech about himself provide the model for our speech about him.

We will also embrace stories as meaningful forms of theological discourse, not mere tales to be moralized or theologized before they are of any use. To return to our example of “God seeking his own glory”: we could rightly devote an entire tome to explaining that God’s pursuit of his own glory is a world away from our pursuit of our own glory, that his pursuit involves embracing those lower than himself rather than annihilating them. Those would hardly be wasted words.

But we could also simply read the story of the crucified Messiah, “lifted up” upon the cross, and see it all in a moment.

How Should We Respond?

By Maria Boccia, PhD
Professor of Pastoral Counseling and Psychology
Director of Graduate Programs in Counseling Charlotte campus

Last week, I was on our South Hamilton campus, teaching my Human Sexuality course. In the airport on the way up, I read the story in the NY Times about NY State passing its “gay marriage” law. The part that I found most distressing was the description of how the law came to be passed. Several key Republicans had to be won over. One wanted to change his mind because the woman he was living with had a gay nephew, and she was making life at home difficult for him. Several others changed their votes because the governor rallied rich donors who made them offers they could not refuse. The article admitted there was little political rationale for passing this law, as there was little support for it in the majority of the state. But the Gay Lobby wanted it and the governor wanted it, so it happened. And so NY State went the way of 6 other states in our country to endorse “gay marriage.”

I found myself thinking about this story during my week of teaching. Here are some of my thoughts:

Homophobia - throwing this word out is an ad hominin argument. When you cannot make a rationale defense, you attack the person, which ends the discussion. This has been used very effectively to silence the opposition to “gay marriage.”

So far in this arena, our society, and Christians, have let the gay lobby set the agenda. They have, for example, framed this as a “civil rights” issue. This requires homosexuality to be like race and gender: biologically determined and fixed & unchanging. They will shout down any information to the contrary (and there is plenty), because that would undermine their argument for seeing them through the lense of civil rights. However, this is permitting them to set the agenda. In apologetics, one should never let the opposition set the agenda; they will on this basis invariably win the argument. In this kind of debate, whoever sets the agenda has a significant advantage over the other and usually wins, in this case, at great cost to the witness of the gospel.

Grace and Truth. As I was teaching on the subject of homosexuality, I talked about Grace and Truth. The church has erred in two ways on the question of how to relate to individuals who identify as homosexual or gay. One has been to completely capitulate to their demands, emphasizing grace to the exclusion of truth, and ending with licentiousness. The other is to violently oppose them, erring on the side of truth to the exclusion of grace, and ending with legalism. If we are to be faithful to the truth of the Bible and the God who authored it, we must always balance grace and truth. We must walk that fine middle line, loving the sinner while hating the sin. My students asked how we should respond to homosexuals. I suggested we should love them, genuinely and honestly, while holding fast to God’s truth on how we should live. We can trust God for the rest.

A Clod, and Unknowing

By Sean McDonough, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

I went into the Montreal Museum of Modern Art (more properly le Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal) in a positive frame of mind. Sure, some of the pieces might be perplexing, and at times I might wonder whether the proverbial roomful of monkeys (armed with brushes rather than typewriters) might produce a more interesting product, but there could be some very interesting stuff in there as well. Entry that evening was free, so I figured I did not have much to lose.

The results were mixed. At the risk of revealing myself as a bourgeois clod, I found much of the material rather pointless. A hanging video monitor shows a woman’s face; the colors change every so often. That was pretty much it, but from the description on the wall (I will spare you the tortured postmodern prose) you would think she had precipitated a quantum leap in human consciousness. It is bad enough to look at a piece and think, “I could have done this.” It’s worse when your next thought is, “But why would I want to?” Tedium and self-indulgence hung over most of the exhibits.

But not all. The highlight was an extended look at the works of the Québécois artist Paul-Émile Borduas. It was encouraging to see from his early works that Borduas was fully capable of doing what many of us would consider art: representation of natural scenes, still-lifes, and so on. I suppose most of the artists on display in the museum have similar talents. But without the evidence on display in front of you, there is always the lingering suspicion that some of them really might be talentless hacks bluffing their way to fame. There was no such concern with Borduas.

This naturally gave me a more sympathetic approach to his later, more abstract works. He had clearly done these pieces for a reason. The most striking of his later works was Translucidité. You can view the picture here (http://amica.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/AMICO~1~1~96423~220818:Translucidit%C3%A9?qvq=w4s:/what/Paintings/Huile+sur+toile/;lc:AMICO~1~1&mi=30&trs=229), though the image does not capture the intense textures of the work, the violent ridges of white paint that cut into the colored portions. I loved looking at it.

As for what it means, that of course is almost entirely subjective. But I saw it as a painting trying to struggle out from behind a white cloud of unknowing – a cloud that not only obscured whatever was back there, but twisted it as well, so that only the slightest hint of the “original” painting could be glimpsed.

As such, it struck me as a moving metaphor for what life is often like: for the ideas we can’t quite express, the relationships we don’t quite understand, the ambitions we can’t quite realize. As Christians, we may believe in Absolute Truth. But that hardly means we know that Truth absolutely, nor that we can adequately express what we do know. Is this postmodernism? I don’t think so, since it was the apostle Paul himself who said that in this present age we see through a glass dimly. Borduas helps us to at least see that truth clearly, and beautifully.

When in doubt . . .

By Maria Boccia, PhD
Professor of Pastoral Counseling and Psychology
Director of Graduate Programs in Counseling Charlotte campus

The name of the program of which I am the director is Graduate Programs in Counseling, and the degree my students obtain is called a Master of Arts in Christian Counseling. Christian counseling versus counseling: My students are very interested in the difference between these two. They ask about working with Christians versus people who do not claim Christ. How do they counsel these people? Sometimes they say they want to be in a church setting, and plan to work with Christians. In my experience, happily, if a counseling center has a reputation for helping people, they will come, even unbelievers, to the church. So, I tell my students that they need to be prepared to work with whomever God brings to them. It is a divine appointment.

I work with Christians. I work with non-Christians. I work with people who are questioning. I work with people who are settled in their beliefs. But they are all human beings, made in the image of God. They all human beings, subject to the Fall. Everyone who walks in my office is a unique creation, made by God in his own image, and fallen into sin. So Christians and non-Christians have many things in common. When someone comes to me for help, I have much from which to draw to help them. I can use what I have learned from the fields of psychology, biology, and medicine because God in his providence calls his Image Bearers to learn from his creation, and gives them the tools they need to do so. It is easy to see how I can apply secular psychology, under the authority of Scripture, to both Christians and non-Christians. But it is also true that I can apply the principles of Scripture to both non-Christians and Christians.

“When in doubt, follow the directions of the manufacturer.” When I buy a new article of clothing, I look at the tag to see how to best care for it to ensure a long life and good wear. This principle applies to human life as well. “When in doubt, follow the directions of the Maker.” God has given us his Word to reveal his salvific plan in history and to give us wisdom in how we should live the life which is his gift to us. The principles of how to live revealed to us in Scripture, as we seek to live them out, will lead us to become the people God intended us to be. It has been my assumption that this means if we follow these principles it will lead us into, among other things, healthier places. And these principles apply to the unbeliever as well as the believer.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you” (Philippians 4:8–9; ESV). One of the basic premises of cognitive behavioral therapy is that to change behavior one must change one’s thoughts which affect one’s emotions which motivates behavior. This applies to both believers and unbelievers.

So when my students ask me how I work with people who are not Christians I point this out. I always use the principles that God has provided us on how to live. With non-Christians I don’t couch them in Christianese or quote chapter and verse. But the principles apply to them as well as to the believers who come to see me. Sometimes, it takes a while for science to catch up with the principles of Scripture but eventually, if the researchers are honest, it does. For example God’s plan and pattern is for men and women to marry, then live together and have sex. It has become ubiquitous in our society for men and women to go in the opposite sequence: have sex, they move in together, and then (maybe) they get married. Science has caught up with God’s plan and found that cohabitation has lots of negative consequences for relationships (see my earlier blog on this topic at http://connect.gordonconwell.edu/members/blog_view.asp?id=190052&post=33380&hhSearchTerms=marriage#comment9604). So if I am providing premarital counseling for a couple and learn they are living together, I will challenge them in this area. If they are Christians I will use both science and Scripture to make my case, if they are not I still have much I can say to them about what is the best way to live to ensure a long and healthy marriage. When I think about counseling, whether Christians or non-Christians, I remember what CS Lewis said:

It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the all in the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.[1]

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^[1] C. S. Lewis (1949). The weight of glory.

Meditations from Florence

By Maria Boccia, PhD
Professor of Pastoral Counseling and Psychology and
Director of Graduate Programs in Counseling at the Charlotte campus

I am writing this in Florence Italy, where I am attending the annual meetings of the International Society for the Study of Women's Sexual Health (ISSWSH).This represents several challenges: I am writing on a Mac, which is totally alien to me, with software called NèoOffice, which I've never heard of, and it is an Italian keyboard, so it has an unusual configuration in order to accommodate things like à, ù and ò (I keep typing à when I mean '). The greatest challenge, however, may be the internal struggle between attending ISSWSH and being in Florence. To be in such a magnificant city with its wealth of Italian Renaissance art and attend meetings from 8 AM until 6 or 7 PM is a considerable challenge to my self'-discipline. But I would like to share some impressions.

I heard a paper addressing the question of how likely doctors are to take a sexual history from their (female) patients as a function of how much training they had in sexual medicine. The unhappy result was that regardless of their training, only 4-8% would do so. When the presenting problem was sexual in nature, this increased to only 10%. There was a minor increase in the likelihood of asking if it was a gynecologist than general practice doctor. The explanation offered was that doctors don't ask about thngs they cannot treat. I was pretty outraged by both of these findings, as well as by the interpretation. It seems to me that particularly when a sexual problem is presented, the doctor ought to take a sexual history. Even more disturbing was the explanation: there are perfectly fine interventions for dealing with many sexual dysfunctions. These are generally psychotherapeutic interventions, however, and not 'cures' medical doctors administer. The arrogance of being unwilling to enquire about issues that would require a referral strikes me as wrong.

At the start of each paper session, the Italians present a little ditty on art object(s) related to sexuality. I found myself reflecting on the changes in art with the Renaissance. Prior to the Renaissance, art was used to teach about the Faith in the Church. There was not much attention to perspective or anatomical correctness. Renaissance art, however, shifted the focus to the beauty of the human body. Perspective became important, and artists studied anatomy in order to accurately reflect the human body when executing their works of art. The first of these was Donatello's David. There is also Michelangelo's David, the Pieta, etc. Each of these used a biblical character but the goal was to glorify the human body, and by interference, Man.

So where am I going with this? Not too far . . . I'm in Florence! Both of these 'errors' seem obvious to me because they violate some principle to which I hold. Primarily, those principles are about truth: we should always seek it, and we should not violate it ourselves. But what happens when it's not so obvious? What happens when it's my own pet blindspot? I would like to believe that I would pursue truth, speak truth, value truth. But I know I also am a fallen human being and that I don't always live up to my high ideals.

God deserves our worshp, our allegience, ourselves. How often have we done exactly what the Italian Renaissance artists did? Too often we have our own agenda and dress it up on God-talk or Church-talk. Too often as a result, God or the church is maligned as a result, and individuals are hurt or alienated and turn away from the only One who can save them. I pray, with Paul, that I can stay out of the way sufficiently so that the only stumbling block another person will encounter is the cross of Christ. And that means, among other things, being a person who values and pursues truth.