Jesus is the one place in the world where we need not restrain our sorrows because He already knows them all.
—Helmut Thielicke, “The Great Mystery” in The Silence of God, 36.
Jesus is the one place in the world where we need not restrain our sorrows because He already knows them all.
—Helmut Thielicke, “The Great Mystery” in The Silence of God, 36.
Pastors always have difficult situations to address—the death of a child, a natural disaster, or an incurable illness. There are times when the situation is so central to the life of the congregation that the pastor must address it from the pulpit. The difficulty here is perspective. The pastor, often in the middle of the situation, must rise beyond the situation and speak to the messiness of life from a divine perspective. It’s not easy to do. It’s almost impossible to do well.
Put yourself in the shoes of Helmut Thielicke during the Second World War. In light of the bombings, mass burials, and infiltration of demonic philosophy, he preached. In the preface to these sermons he admits that sermons at this time “have to be expressed before distracted people whose eyes still reflect the glare of the last air-raid and who thus have very accurate scales by which to assess the message” (ix).
Fortunately, you don’t have to live through the horrors of war to recognize that Thielicke’s words are solid truth. These messages are hard, always avoiding false hope while pointing the listener to the true light.
If you’ve read Thielicke before, you’ll recognize the way he transforms perceptive observations into a pithy phrase:
If the last hour belongs to us, we do not need to fear the next minute. (“I Am Not Alone with My Anxiety” 9)
Jesus is the one place in the world where we need not restrain our sorrows because He already knows them all. (“The Great Mercy” 36)
We cannot sink so low that God is not lower. (“The Message of Redeeming Light” 63)
Golgotha means pain in God. (“The Final Dereliction” 70)
The trouble is that we speak far too much about God in the third person. (“The Final Dereliction” 75)
When you take a minute to reflect on Thielicke’s pastoral setting, you can’t help but thank God that he still speaks to us through his servants in our struggles.
When one loves God, all things are permissible; but when one loves God, one loves what He loves. This means love for all others, for they are loved by God; and conduct will be regulated by this love.”
—William F. Orr & James A. Walter, I Corinthians, 202 in Kenneth E. Bailey, Paul Through Mediterranean Eyes: Cultural Studies in 1 Corinthians, 181.
I’ve got to give them credit. Bo Sanders and Tripp Fuller over at Homebrewed Christianity have got me thinking about process theology. For a long time, all I knew about process theology came from one class in Bible College where I learned how mistaken Alfred North Whitehead was. After listening to a number of Homebrewed podcasts, I’ve started to think that the process people bring something valuable to the theological table. Thus, I’ve started to read Cobb, process theology’s chief modern evangelist.
This first of two volumes about The Process Perspective uses a question-and-answer format to engage the various implications of process theology, categorized roughly in five sections:
These questions were curated by Jeanyne B. Slettom from processandfaith.org, a website where Cobb responds to a variety of questions.
While I’m no process theologian (or open theist, for that matter), I thought I’d point out a few areas highlighted in this book where other believers can learn from the process perspective:
You don’t have to be a process thinker to benefit from a thoughtful reading of Cobb’s Process Perspective.
This God [of Abraham] is the initiator: he encounters them; they do not encounter him. He begins the dialogue, and he will see it through. This God is profoundly different from them, not their projection or their pet, not the usual mythological creature whose intentions can be read in auguries or who can be controlled by human rituals. This God gives and takes beyond human reasoning or justification. Because his motives are not interpretable and his thoughts and actions are not foreseeable, anything—and everything—is possible.
—Thomas Cahill, The Gifts of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels, 93.
If your only experience with Wyndham was being forced to read The Crysalids in high school, it’s time to pay this science fiction master another visit. In addition to rereading all of his major books (The Day of the Triffids, The Kraken Wakes, The Chrysalids, The Seeds of Time, Trouble with Lichen, and The Midwich Cukoos), I’ve been reading through his lesser known forays such as Chocky, The Outward Urge and Web. I recently continued this journey with his collection of short stories entitled,Consider Her Ways and Others.
As with most collections, there are highlights and lowlights. The novella, “Consider Her Ways” is the shining light here. It’s a disorienting horror story about the future of men and women with a distinctive Wyndham twist at the end. Many of the stories in this collection deal with time travel, Wyndham’s bread and butter, in some form.
Wyndham falls short when he stretches too far from his base such as “Oh, Where, Now, is Peggy MacRafferty?”, a cultural satire where prospective movie starlets are groomed and modified to the point where they are all indiscernible.
The final story, “A Long Spoon,” was a clever surprise. It’s quite a twist on the old idea of selling your soul!
These stories are well worth reading.
As the tongue of a sick man cannot taste good things … so the soul infected with the corruption of the world has no taste for the joys of heaven.
—Thomas Aquinas in Thomas Merton, What is Contemplation?, 23.
Death makes life absurd.
This is the message of Ecclesiastes in four words. Enns does a great job clarifying and emphasizing this point in his Two Horizons commentary.
The book of Ecclesiastes is a sandwich:
The Frame Narrator begins by summarizing the Qohelet’s words (Life is absurd). Next, the Qohelet himself, assuming a royal persona, reaffirms the declaration that life is absurd since death levels the playing field.
The message of Ecclesiastes can be clarified when we look at the phrase, “the end of man,” repeated four times:
In the end, the Frame Narrator picks up on this key phrase and gently reminds the reader:
The Narrator doesn’t deny or undermine the observations of the Qohelet. Instead, he agrees. Sure, live is absurd and death robs life of its meaning. In light of this, what can we do but serve God?
Enns’ commentary is a paragraph by paragraph reading of the text. This style of commentary makes it easy for the important themes to shine through. It also helps to guard against false isolated readings. Perhaps the greatest example of a wrongheaded reading of Ecclesiastes is the “Time” meditation in chapter 3. The Byrds transformed a statement of hopelessness into zen-like tranquility. The Qohelet was far more frustrated than Pete Seeger was at life!
The commentary proper is only half of the book. After a thorough reading of the text, Enns reflects on in in the following ways:
I’ve read Longman and Fox on Ecclesiastes. While they both have deep philosophical and linguistic insight, I found Enns commentary more helpful in understanding the overall force of the book. Enns allows the Qohelet to speak in all his quasi-blasphemous anger and frustration without trying to force him into a modern theological position. If you want one book to help understand the book of Ecclesiastes, this is it.
God often measures His gifts by our desire to receive them, and by our cooperation with His grace, and the Holy Spirit will not waste any of His gifts on people who have little or no interest in them.
—Thomas Merton, What is Contemplation?, 8.