I admire what Sam has set out to accomplish this term in exploring the nuances of our faith, and I’m thankful for the opportunity to participate in the discussion. I am persuaded by my own experience and the stories of many others that we do a great disservice to our faith - and to the world that Jesus came to save - when we try to force simple, reductionistic answers on a very complex God, who has created an enormously complex kosmos, populated with enormously complex beings. Rather than try to iron out the wrinkles in our faith so that everything is flat and manageable and easy to carry, we try to wrap our minds around the idea that maybe something that looks like an imperfection to us is actually an essential part of the whole shape. At the risk of pushing my metaphor to its limits, it’s fairly easy for the human brain to conceive of a two dimensional, flat object. But when an object clearly has three (or more) dimensions, we have two choices: we can lull ourselves into the assumption that the object is flat, or we can broaden our way of thinking to accept possibilities that we had not previously considered.
In the community that I’m a part of, we often speak of life in Jesus as life in tension: we live between the “now” of the kingdom of God, having come in Jesus, and the “not yet” of the kingdom, yet to be fulfilled at his return. We live as people of resurrection even though death is all around us. In II Corinthians 4, Paul (as he usually does) describes the tension inherent in our present condition much better than I can:
“But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying the death of Jesus in our bodies, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies.” (4:7-10)
So tonight, Sam has asked me to do a take on a theological conversation that really excites me in a lot of ways, but that I also find frustrating at times, and maybe I’m not alone in that. I’ve been asked to talk about what it means that - as you may have heard said or taught at one time or another - people who follow Jesus are supposed to be “in the world, but not of the world.”
First, a couple of quick and dirty scripture references that form the backbone of this idea. They almost all come from the writings attributed to John, although there are a couple in James as well.
[John 17:14-15] “I have given them your word, and the world hated them because they are not from the world, just as I am not from the world. I am not asking you to take them from the world, but I ask you to keep them from the evil one.”
It’s laid out pretty clearly here. Most English translations will say here that Jesus and his followers are not “of” the world. The Greek preposition, “ek”, is really more like “from”. I could say that, “I am not of California. I am of Minnesota.” Which is more or less an accurate way of saying that, “I am from Minnesota.” That’s where I was born. That’s where I grew up.
But if we read this verse and walk away, then we have a problem: we, and every other human being on the planet - so far as I know - was born here. In fact, the very same gospel starts out with this famous and beautiful passage on how Jesus was, in fact, God, but became a part of God’s creation. “The Word”, meaning Jesus, “became flesh.” He became what we are. He was born. He had a mom and a dad. He ate food. He slept in a bed. He learned things. He grew. He liked girls. He made things. He earned a paycheck. He spoke a language. He had friends. He enjoyed a glass of fermented grape juice. He sometimes enjoyed a second glass of fermented grape juice. For some of us this is Christianity 101, but if you’ve never really thought about it, this is a shocking, scandalous thing to suggest about God. Most of the world’s major religions and philosophies are entirely predicated upon the idea that if there is any kind of intelligence or ultimate reality out there beyond us, then whatever he or she or it is, it’s certainly beyond having to wallow around in this yucky matter that we have to live in for eighty years or so. The radical, world-changing message of the Bible is that not only is God not against this stuff we call matter, but that he even likes it enough to put it on, and wear it, and live in it! But more on this in a bit.
Later that night, Jesus is arrested and is brought before the Roman governor, Pilate. Pilate starts asking questions, like, “So you say you’ve got a kingdom? We have a problem with this. Fortunately, we have a solution. We are currently giving away display holders for other people who want to be king. It’s all natural wood… comes with its own nails… if you’ll just follow these gentlemen, they’ll get you fitted…”
[John 18:36] “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom was from this world, my servants would have fought that I should not be delivered to the Jews; but as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”
Jesus talks to Pilate as a guy who knows about kingdoms and how they work. The kingdom that Pilate represents - the Roman Empire - is enforced in basically the same way that the rest of the kingdoms of the world work, with varying degrees of severity. Pilate’s kingdom (or Caesar’s, really) is kept in place by fighting and swords and crosses. Jesus tells him, “If my kingdom were like Rome, or Babylon or Persia before that, or the British Empire, or China, or… certain other powerful political entities that we might know… then sure,” Jesus says, “my people would pick up swords and fight. They might lose, but you’d better believe they would fight for me.” But where the way of Rome - the way of “the world”, if you will - is to hurt and hate and kill your enemies, the way of Jesus is to forgive, and serve, and love your enemies. Where the way of the world is, as I joked (maybe inappropriately) a moment ago, to put those who threaten you on a cross, the way of Jesus is to take the cross. And the greatest irony is that where the world is quite convinced that the way to make life in these fleshy sacks of matter more livable is to push back against anything that looks threatening, Jesus insists that his way - the way of the cross - is actually the way to life.
[I John 2:15-17] “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in that person…”
This verse is especially baffling, because again, if we think that the same person who wrote the gospel of John also wrote this letter (and a fair number of textual critics think so), then what happened between “God loving the world so that he gave his only Son” (John 3:16, obviously) and this, “Do not love the world or the things in it, or the love of the Father won’t be in you”? Here is where I’d like to wiggle out by pulling out my Greek New Testament and saying, “But if you look at the Greek…” but unfortunately (for me) they’re the same words. I checked.
So how can we hold First John in tension with John 3? Or, with the rest of the Bible, for that matter? How can we take seriously the fact that we belong to a world that is full of death, destruction, violence, and pain - and not only that, but somehow, we - all of us - are participants in a world that is bent on going against the way of God - that sin is very real? How can we also take seriously the fact that God’s response to a world full of enemies is to love, serve, and give himself for them - and that all of us are invited to become participants with God in the restoring and rescue of the world?
What I’d like to do tonight is to take sin out of the Bible. I’m only partially kidding. Really, if you were to cut the Bible down to the sections in which human beings are free from sin, does anyone know how many chapters you would have left? Four. And it so happens that they fall very neatly on either end of the Bible.
Genesis 1 verse 1 begins with God creating “the heavens and the earth” - which, if you’re an ancient person who has probably never left your village much less seen a picture of the round earth from space like we have, is your way of saying “absolutely everything”. What we see in front of us and can touch, and everything that’s up there and that sometimes we can see. And day by day, God adds things to his creation like water and dry land, and trees and animals and birds and fish and sun and moon, and every time he does he says something about it: it is good. Then, the last of the acts of creation goes like this:
(Genesis 1:27-29) So God created human beings in his image; in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.” God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food.”
Why does the text keep mentioning seeds? What is striking about God’s creation is that it is not stagnant. It is not a sculpture. It is a self-perpetuating system. If you’ll forgive the tongue-twister, God the Creator created a creation that keeps on creating. And the human beings that God created are given an enormous role. In the ancient near east, kings who ruled over distant lands would often send images of themselves carved in wood or stone to serve as a physical reminder of his dominion over that place. The servants who were entrusted with the king’s image were essentially endowed to act with the king’s authority and power in his absence. The author of Genesis picks up that well-known example and says, “Actually, that’s kind of how God intends us to be for him.” God’s instructions for how humans are to rule in his absence are, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it.” A lot of people read this and say, “Great, God wants us to have babies. Lots of ‘em.” And yes, procreation is probably intended here. But what else is there? “Fill the earth and subdue it.” Apparently, in this state before human sin, before the Fall, before Genesis 3, human beings were not idle, blissful creatures that frolicked around in fig leaves, eating fruit. Before the calamity of Genesis 3, human beings had jobs to do. “Filling the earth” may mean populating it, but it is also apparent in the passage that humans are supposed to take the stuff of creation - matter - plants, and animals, and trees, and rocks, and everything they can get their hands on - and do stuff with it. How have people filled the earth? We’ve filled it with more people, but also with chairs, and houses, and bread, and cheese, and books, and bicycles, and iPhones, and music, and paintings, and bridges, and buildings. Humans are creative just like their Creator. And despite what we know is going to happen in the third chapter, that work has continued to this day. Despite our sin, despite our best efforts to kill each other and take each other’s stuff and to use the stuff of creation in hurtful ways, the creative impulse of Genesis 1 has continued. Builders still fill the earth. Architects fill the earth. Painters fill the earth. Chefs fill the earth. Musicians fill the earth. Engineers fill the earth.
Similarly, we have occupations that “subdue” an earth that is continually creating. If you love organizing, if you if you love making sure resources get to where they need to go, if you love cultivating and arranging things in a way that improves them - that’s subduing the earth. Farmers subdue the earth. Accountants subdue the earth. Businesspeople subdue the earth. Teachers subdue the earth. Leaders subdue the earth.
And all of this activity - this “work” - has persisted to the present day, despite our sin. The only thing that changes with the advent of sin is that . And in verse 30, God takes a look at the things he has made and called “good” again and again, only this time, [1:30] “God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good.”
There is no sin in Genesis 1 or 2. There is no death. There is no reason to be afraid. There is no reason to do anything but what humans do when they’re at their best - build. Organize. Manage. Shape. Create.
Move to the opposite end of the Bible. There is no sin in Revelation 21 or 22. 21:1-5 begins with an echo of Genesis 1:
“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, “Look, the home of God is among humans. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more. Mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the former things have passed away. And the One who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.”
The story of the Bible is how God, in shocking and unexpected ways, shows here, in the arrow, in the middle of his creation. And he doesn’t minimize in the least the fact that his creation has rebelled. They have gone astray. They have, as Hebrew junkies will tell you about the word for sin, “missed the mark”. The people he put in charge of his stuff have abused their power and run wild. And yet, God steps in to rescue them.
But the story doesn’t begin with human sin. And the story doesn’t end with human redemption. Those things happen. But if someone were to ask you, “Tell me the Christian story. One sentence. What’s Christianity all about?” A great many of us would probably say something to the effect of, “Well, Jesus died to save us from our sins.” And we would be correct. But in our concern not to mitigate this thing that has gone so horrendously wrong in our species, we tend to start the story at Genesis 3. As a result, most of our talk about God is on being “not of this world”.
But the story does not begin in Genesis 3. The story begins in Genesis 1 and 2. The story begins in a garden.
Likewise, the story does not end with Jesus’ death. The story ends in Revelation 21 and 22 with the death of death. And just like we began in a garden, the beginnings of a project, full of potential - what is the image at the end of the story? A city. Cities are the accumulation of the things humans have done with the world around them. They are the collected realization of our species’ cultural potential.
It is as if to say that the thing that God began when he created this world was not abandoned when sin came in. Likewise, when Jesus died on the cross, there is a point on which the gospels are very clear: he was not a ghost. He was alive. Physically, bodily alive. He ate again. He gave hugs again. He spoke with friends again. Something had certainly changed - but the flesh and bones that died on Friday were the same, nail-scarred flesh and bones that lived again on Sunday.
Or, to put this another way, we have sometimes told the Christian story as a linear progression from point A to point B.
Point A: humans are sinful.
Point B: Jesus forgives sin.
Under an A-B model, our entire goal becomes getting people from A to B, with no sense of what they might do once they’re there. In some quarters of the Church, anything that is an aside to this A-B dichotomy - like art, or the outdoors, or travel, or working for justice - is sometimes viewed with suspicion, even hostility.
But if the story begins in Genesis 1 and 2, we have a better chance of recapturing what it was that God created us to do in the first place before he saved us. Likewise, if we end the story in Revelation 21, with the product of human creativity on display, we might better recapture why God is saving us:
A: creation (Genesis 1-2)
B: fall (Genesis 3)
C: redemption (Jesus)
D: new creation (Revelation 21-22)
And so, it is my prayer that this “beginning at the beginning” and “ending at the end” will be immensely liberating for those of us that have creative or organizing impulses, and that we will begin to see how those impulses fit into our story as the people God is redeeming. I pray that we will see that all work that upholds the goodness of creation rather than destroys it is God’s work. I pray that we will take up our calling to be a fully engaged Church regardless of our occupations, for God is not simply looking to recruit pastors or missionaries to work in his kingdom, but businesspeople, engineers, bloggers, teachers, chefs, parents, nurses, researchers, pet groomers, hikers, salespeople, sculptors, filmmakers, truck drivers, athletes, firefighters, accountants, farmers, and people of all industries and trades that do their work in a way that promotes wholeness rather than brokenness - that looks like the new creation rather than the old one. Amen.
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