There are many kinds of truth.
This opening statement may cause rejoicing in the hearts of the many relativists who now populate western society. However, the statement is not meant to encourage relativism, but proper thought—and, of course, those two things really don’t go together.
The distresses of the human soul and ‘inner world’ can be many. Sometimes people speak of having to deal with their ‘inner demons’. Most of us can cope when this is simply a vivid metaphor. But what happens when we realize the struggler is speaking literally—that is, they think that their inner distress is due to real demons at work in their soul?
Okay, that’s freaky—so medieval.
Unfortunately not.
In a consumer-driven society, the preacher of the gospel can feel the pressure to aim always at the felt needs he/she guesses may exist in the potential hearer. Like all good angels of light, this too has its own attraction—and perhaps even some value. But as is usual with such blindingly beautiful apparitions, it too needs to be resisted, or at least received with great caution.
Once again (a deliberate attempt to tie in to previous posts), the pressure arises from the desperate search for a ‘point of contact’ (on the apparent assumption that this is not obvious, automatic, or already there since the gospel makes its own landing ground). It is often spoken of in terms of having to make the presentation of the gospel ‘relevant’ to the hearer.
What could be stranger than stranger evangelism?
‘Stranger evangelism’ is a misnomer. Forget the comparative; we should use the superlative instead, for isn’t it the strangest evangelism?
In some missiological circles, if ‘evangelism’ is a ‘boo word’, then ‘interfaith dialogue’ is a ‘hooray word’. Evangelism is so one-way, so high-and-mighty, so two centuries ago. Interfaith dialogue doesn’t assume one ‘faith’ is better or more enlightened than another; nor does it mean that one is telling the other, for it is an attempt at a two-way mutual sharing, and its aim of ‘mutual understanding’ sounds so much better than the ‘conversion’ of another.
I guess Elijah’s encounter on Mount Carmel with the prophets of Baal wouldn’t be a ‘prooftext’ for such dialogues, nor would Jesus’ uncomfortable words, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6).
I have never really been 100 per cent behind the ‘point of contact’ view of evangelism. Leaving aside the pretty stark dichotomies in the Scriptures (e.g. “what fellowship has light with darkness?”—2 Cor 6:14b), which appear to suggest that there is absolutely no common ground between truth and error, it just seems to be filled with all kinds of problems.
Revisionist history is probably as common as it is unethical. There are lessons to learn from the past, but if the past is distorted for the sake of present-day lessons, then it is no longer serving honest inquiry, but has become propaganda.
The destruction of the World Trade Centre by Muslim terrorists has spawned in the West a new fear of Islam, as well as a new desire to understand Islam. At the same time (and rather strangely and illogically), it has spawned new attacks upon Christianity. For example, the event in New York motivated Christopher Hitchens, one of the ‘new atheists’, to speak against religion as a damaging force in the world. So what began with some Muslim extremists was generalized to all religion, and then (it seems) particularized by a renewed and increased attack upon Christianity. Go figure.
Across the 12th and 13th centuries, the noblemen of Europe conducted a series of ‘Crusades’ in the Holy Land. Over six or seven centuries, this period history was largely neglected, but then the 20th century saw a resurgence of (negative) interest in these Crusades, which generated a number of myths that took over popular opinion.
I don’t know how many times over the years I have found myself flummoxed in evangelistic conversations when the question is thrown at me, “What about the Crusades?”
Most people probably ignored the International Men’s Day on 19th November. Those who didn’t may have noticed the launch of a new website One in Three (www.oneinthree.com.au). This is the latest attempt from the male rights movement (which most, perhaps, don’t even know exists!) to break another appalling silence in our society. (more…)
Reading the Psalms after reading about Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection brings its own delightful surprises. Like so much of the message the world calls foolish, the surprises don’t draw attention to themselves with all kinds of fireworks; often they come with just a whisper.
Reading the Psalms is always a great delight. It is easy to notice when it is one of those delightful kind of Psalms. But some others, of course, take you through the valley of the shadow before the delight arrives. It certainly does come, but only as if through the darkness. I am glad not many are as black as Psalm 88; man, it must take you low, if its high point reads, “You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me; my companions have become darkness.” (Ps 88:18). But even these dark chapters from the Psalmist’s life can resonate with the ones the author of life is writing in your life story. In some (possibly sick) way, this can provide you some encouragement and help (although I never really understand how this works; you say to a friend, “I am feeling pretty low”, and they say, “Me too”, and you both feel better???)
History ‘from below’ gets down and dirty. It is a pity it hurts so much to do it.
The ‘Great Ones’ of human history often earn the acclaim they so enjoy to propagate—at the expense of many ordinary people. These ordinary people either made them what they became (without thanks), or were crushed by them in the process of their exaltation (without mercy). Either way, there are valleys of dried bones beneath the feet of those who call themselves benefactors.
History ‘from above’ is apparently appealing to those who want to be better than others. It is a pity it is based upon a lie. (more…)
History. We might be standing in it, but which direction are we looking?
The Terminator told us he would be back, but the latest version disappointed fans because the Governor of California was reduced to a Computer Animated bit-part. For the Australian, T4 was rescued somewhat by the presence of our own Sam Worthington—but only just!
Even though it struggles a bit with the inherent fatalism of a future that seems to march inevitably towards the present, no matter what is done in the present, a major theme of this series of movies now stretching across a quarter of a century is that the future is not fixed; fate is what you make.
You knock on the door of the dingy inner city terrace. You probably did see a whole lot of Harley Davidsons outside on the footpath, but obviously you weren’t thinking. The door opens, and now you see a room full of leather-clad, patch-emblazoned, hairy types of the bike-riding persuasion. You were supposed to invite the happy householder to a gospel thingy at the local church. If you go along with that plan, you suddenly see a different future stretching out before you—and it doesn’t seem to stretch that far. (more…)