Cheap Grace?

I think Fryer makes a insightful connection between gift and call when she writes,
“One of them had done the unthinkable and turned Jesus over to be killed. And all the rest of them had run away. They knew the fact that Jesus was even still talking to them was a gift. There was no way they deserved his call to mission. It was a gift. But it was also a call. They had been called into a great adventure."
The gift here is more than future salvation, but present adventure. The call to follow Jesus here does not consist of moral imperatives but missionary opportunities. In some ways, this conception blurs the distinction between grace and law: the law (what Jesus asks us to do) is grace, given to us by him, as a gift, for our joy, our adventure.

However, I think Fryer reverts back to standard language on gift and grace when she writes, “Christians today aren't always quite as good at making this connection between the gift of grace and the call to act.” This is grace separate from the law, not grace found in doing the law. This is the grace that frees the sin-sick soul. It is also the grace which blankets us with forgiveness, allowing us to be content with a minimal response to God's call to action. This is the grace which can become cheap. As Fryer
quotes Bonhoffer,
“Cheap grace is preaching forgiveness without repentance; it is baptism without the discipline of community; it is the Lord's Supper without confession of sin; it is absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without the living, incarnate Jesus Christ.”

Fryer then points out, “Bonhoeffer challenged the church to reconnect grace and discipleship, to recognize that the gift we are given in Jesus Christ is also a call to follow him.” However, I question Bonhoeffer's reconnection. Bonhoeffer writes, “Jesus summons men to follow him not as a teacher or a pattern of the good life, but as Christ, the Son of God (Cpt 2).” To Bonhoeffer, this means that a partial response to Jesus is not
acceptable. Indeed, “[t]here is no road to faith or discipleship, no other road -only obedience to the call of Jesus (Cpt 2).” The only people in Bonhoeffer's eyes who can begin to accept grace in their lives are those like Luther, who “one whose attempts to follow Christ had taught him that he can never becomes sinless, who in his fear of sin despairs of the grace of God (Cpt 1).” I fear that in this framework, the gift aspect is lost. As Bonhoeffer writes, “Not a word of praise is given to the disciple for his decision for Christ (Cpt 2).”

As we consider how to use this conversation to further the mission of Christ, we must not only look at Bonhoeffer's theology, but the practical reality that “cheap” grace destroys the institution of the Church. See Europe. Furthermore, “costly” grace promotes the Church. A community that demands much from their members engenders a deeper sense of common identity. Such a community also has greater resources, financial, emotional and spiritual to help its own members.

However, "costly" grace always verges on legalism and often is sold on fear. Furthermore, basic Lutheran confessional approach to scripture abhors this idea, especially the extreme form of Bonhoeffer. We also acknowledge in our own lives and in scripture the reality of a road to faith. We confess our bondage to sin, recorded in First John. Thus, the question becomes, how can we remain missional when our confessional heritage draws us toward "cheap" grace?

In the Book of Acts, people spread the Good News by telling what God had done
for them in Christ, not telling people how God therefore demands they respond. I think this is what Fryer is getting at in her first link between the gift and call. Our call is like that of the Gerasene demoniac healed in Mark 5 to ‘Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and what mercy he has shown you (5.19)." The call is the narrative imperative.

How though, do we treat the moral imperative? I think we admit that a life of obedience does bear fruit. Even if our place in heaven is secured by grace apart from our actions, trying to follow God's law is helpful for us. As we preach salvation by grace, we should not shy away from reminding people of the blessings that come from following Christ, not just at the end of the day when we humbly confess our sins, but in the morning when we rise knowing that God will be there to guide us.

Reflections on Mission

We all have a mission: But is it common – not with the Episcopalians, but with ourselves?

President David Tiede’s summary of Luther Seminary’s strategic plan uses the word “mission” over twenty times. Yet my time at Luther has reaffirmed my long standing thought about the ELCA: The term “mission” entails something dramatically different for various people and churches in the ELCA. This lack of coherent, unifying mission results in numerous disagreements: How we engage in ecumenical agreements, how we approach homosexuality, how we “renew” worship and even how we attract new members. At one point, I thought these disagreements resulted from poor leadership and communication, but as I reflect more, I realize there are just fundamental disagreements about the mission of the Lutheran Church in America at this time. I believe this tension reduces the strength of the Church’s witness. However, I do not call for a schism of the Church. There is too much we have in common, theologically and institutionally.
The ELCA has no coherent, unified definition of mission. Searching on the ELCA’s website for a mission statement, I instead found a column “Who we are.” The first two bullets under this heading read: Congregational Organization and History. That probably reflects much of what most ELCA churches share in common with each other: an ecclesiastical structure and an quasi-related ethnic heritage. This lack of an expressed missions statement does not, in my mind, simply reflect poor leadership in Chicago, but fundamental differences in the members of the ELCA.
The rift over homosexuality demonstrates this clearly. We do not agree on this issue as a Church. Although this issue revolves around specific practices in the Church and even specific texts in Scripture, I believe it relates to a more dramatic tension, which George Hunsberg described as the “polarization between Christian action for social justice and Christian action for personal morality.” As one Pastor from my home synod, who strongly supports more progressive GLBT positions, put it nicely, “Many people out there are waiting for someone from the Church to stand up and say, ‘It’s not about the rules.’” Yet I also know many Lutherans who feel the Church has become a doormat, far too quiet in its call to discipleship. These are often the same people who want the Church to maintain its current teaching on the matter.
Even if this current polarization did not exist, the mission contexts our congregations find themselves in are quite different. Rural, suburban, and urban represent one axis of differentiation. The broader religious (and Lutheran) environment is another, e.g., Oregon is much more secular than Oklahoma. While sociologists who write about missionology love broad themes, what do most ELCA congregations share in their sense of the church, the gospel and the culture? What does resurrection mean to a dying farm community versus a growing suburban enclave? What does social justice mean in the Wisconsin Bible Belt versus New York City?
I suggest that this lack of coherent mission hurts church growth. Kenneth Inskeep and Jeffery Drake did a worship survey for the ELCA which found that “the single most important factor associated with a change in average worship attendance is a clear sense of mission or purpose.” Logic suggests this is true on a more macro level. The competing senses of mission mean the Church cannot put forward policies and materials that help Churches carry out their local mission. For example, if a church in San Francisco wanted to marry a gay couple and thus, carry out their witness to the local community, namely that we are a Church (radically) involved in peace, justice and equality, they could not currently do so without risking censure. Or if a Church wanted a collection of contemporary music with lyrics that rose above emotional epithets, they would find that the ELCA’s current musical development straddles the line between the contemporary and traditional in way that may not fit their needs.
Yet, I believe there are obvious reasons to remain a united Church. First, there is more than one division. While I still maintain that the homosexuality divide illustrates deeper divisions, the members of the ELCA do not easily line up in two camps. For example, two people may firmly agree on homosexuality, but may differ on mission outreach, worship style, or even institutional authority. There are probably three, if not closer to five or six camps in the Church. Furthermore, individual churches host members of these camps as well. Ultimately, if a major divide did happen, churches, not just the church, would be split.
Second, benefits from scope exist. Financially a split would be inefficient because even if the Church bodies became leaner, duplication would be inevitable. Take, for example, church building. Having two departments of research and two Mission Investment Funds would serve no one. A larger pool of Lutheran youth also facilitates sustaining numbers at Lutheran camps, school and Seminaries. It also allows for keeping more churches in contact with each other for opportunities to connect with Lutheran around the rest of the world. Seminary education seems the most obvious benefit of size. Our education exposes us to various ways of thinking and more narrowly defining our education would weaken it. Furthermore, so many pieces of the puzzle, from Greek to Church History to Confessions would be shared across various Lutheran sub-denominations.
I think the solution is a weak confederation. In some ways, this already exists, with more and more Churches aligning themselves with like-minded Churches in the ELCA (Word Alone, Dorado Convention, RIC etc). The call for a “regional” sexuality policy further attests to the reality of a diminished union between us that resembles a confederation rather than a split. I humbly admit that I have not yet figured out exactly what this will look like. However, I think we need to spend less time trying to find a non-existent middle ground between our senses of mission and figure out a way to maintain a connection with each other such that we can still benefit from what we do have in common.

Rise of Christianity

Luke establishes the secular backdrop to his first three Gospel stories by listing the names and dates of rulers. These details offer the reader not only chronological information, but also point to the kairos of the age. The words “Herod, King of Judea” in chapter 1 and “Ceasar Augustus” in chapter 2 remind the reader of the tensions in the Jewish world but also the peace in the Roman world. Indeed, the Pax Romana ushered in by Augustus did more than stop internal military conflicts; it allowed for the flourishing of trade and the mind, both of which benefited Christianity. However, Luke’s Gospel also indicates that Jesus was born far off the beaten path. This is also the story of Christianity within the Roman world. In a time dominated by not only the reality of but the desire for order and reason, the humble lifestyle and irrational faith claims of Christianity proved incompatible with acceptable conduct and thought in the Roman world. While certain characteristics of the Augustan Age afforded Christianity an environment in which it could flourish, the movement was ultimately “a superstition” in the eyes of Roman establishment.
The trade and resulting wealth that arose during the Pax Romana created an environment in which Christianity could flourish. Augustus and later emperors built roads and secured shipping routes which extended from Spain to Turkey to Gaul to Libya. Even Christians without apostolic zeal would have an opportunity to spread the Gospel, as trade and military duties often caused people to travel throughout the empire. As Stark writes, “Anyone could cross the empire from one end to the other in a summer, and travel was common (135).” The rise of urban centers enabled the early Church to “assemble a ‘critical mass’ needed to form a deviant subculture. (Stark 134).” The concurrent rise of the merchant class gave Christianity an audience with time and education for religious and philosophical speculation. The adherence to Stoicism and Epicureanism as well as the revival of platonic thought evidence the means and desire for philosophical questioning that this merchant class possessed.
The existence as well as the desire for stability, wealth and loyalty to the Emperor in the Pax Romana shaped its view on proper religion, pieta. Pieta was religion that supplied the people with a means call on the Gods to fulfill their wishes and desires. It did not make radical faith claims or upset the given social order, but rather, “[i]ts rites were age-old and traditional … conducted by the normal leaders of the community (Walker 7).” The aim of religion was success for humanity, whether that be the nation, the family or the individual. Walker attests that it “used divination, dream, and oracle to seek the will of the powers; it used prayer and sacrifice to gain their alliance (7).” Pieta was also pluralistic. One could have numerous gods to cover one’s bets. This attitude manifests itself in the tolerance Roman authorities used with local religious groups, as long as the local group paid homage to the cult of the emperor.
The treatment of the Jews shows the functional nature of Roman Pieta. Julius Ceaser granted the Jews the status of religio licto in exchange for military loyalty. “Roman law protected the communities of Jewish farmers, craftsmen, and traders throughout the empire. (Walker 18).” The Jewish exclusive claims on faith, focus on God and adherence to monotheism all stood in contrast with the respected norms of Pieta. Ceasar’s move shows that religion served the state, not the state the religion. Although the later destruction of the temple involved the desecration of a religious symbol, the Rome did this to suppress political rebellion, not religious zeal.
Superstition stood in contrast with Pieta. A superstition was “an anti-social belief grounded in the primitive fear of the Gods and leading to extreme behavior.” The Romans viewed such extreme behavior with suspicion. Indeed, the basic tenant of Epicurean philosophy, practiced by Emperor Marcus Aurielus, was that a fear of the gods was a primary cause of human suffering.
When Pliny calls Christianity a superstition, he speaks not only for himself, but for Roman sensibilities. Jesus proclamation of Good News to the poor and stood in stark contrast to the Roman aims of stability and wealth. Further, in contrast with the pluralism of Roman Peita, the Christian community believed that Jesus was the only salvation. The Didache puts it more plainly, “There are two ways, one of life and one of death (Richardson 171).” Christians called on the fear of God to promote extreme behavior, the opposite of what a materialistic philosophy such as Epicurean would espouse. Polycarp even evokes fear as he writes, “Therefore, grid your loins, serve God in fear (131).” A refusal to renounce one’s faith in the face of mortal persecution epitomizes extreme behavior, and Christians did exactly this. Perhaps the most Roman saying in the early Church belongs to Ignatius: “The greatness of Christianity lies it its being hated by the world, not in its being convincing to it (104).” Christianity promoted an anti-social belief, the fear of God and extreme behavior.
The Roman Empire offered Christianity the secular stability necessary for its growth. However, this same Empire maintained a view on religion, Pieta, which conflicted on many levels with Christianity. This led the Empire to persecute Christianity. Its unsuccessful attempt to eradicate Christian faith echoes Luke’s Gospel, where Herod unsuccessfully tries to kill Jesus once he begins to perceive a threat.

Genesis 32 Essay

Jacob’s Journey: Our Own Faith Ladder?

When God declares that Jacob will be called Israel, the name of the tribe whose tale the Pentateuch chronicles, the narrator challenges the reader to reflect on the universality of Jacob’s story. Uplifting, even comparing Jacob’s story to the average person’s seems almost offensive however, given the text’s portrayal of man who cheats his way to blessing and wealth. So: Can we use Jacob’s journey of faith to represent our own? I say yes. I believe Jacob’s encounters with God in chapters 28, 32, and 35 describe the faith journey of many people.
In both his introduction to God and his initial response, Jacob’s story reminds me of many others’ nascent faith. After hearing the litany of promises from God, Jacob makes a conditional vow:
“If God will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat and clothing to wear, so that I come again to my father’s house in peace, then the Lord shall be my God, and this stone which I have stet up for a pillar shall be God’s house (28.20-22).”

Jacob creates a substantial list of expectations for God, even adding to the original blessings God promised him (food and clothing). In doing so, Jacob makes his worship conditional, almost demanding that God prove himself. While it may be easy to criticize Jacob here, he has neither seen nor experienced God before. Indeed, God must introduce himself in reference to Jacob’s ancestors, “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac (28.13).” In this way, Jacob’s faith tale opens like many of ours: Introduced to God by reference to our parents, we nonetheless want proof that this God is our God, not just theirs.
Jacob’s second meeting with God describes our faith as we come to terms with life and God in times of crisis. As Jacob is contemplating his impending meeting with his brother, “a man wrestled with him until daybreak (32.23).” The text does not immediately suggest this person is God. Bruggemann asserts, “[Jacob] could not discern whether the adversary is God or Esau (267).” Mann further suggests that, “the interlacing of these passages prevents us from reading each of Jacob’s encounters [with God and Esau] separately (60).” The text does not suggest this confusion results from a lack of faith in God by Jacob, for in the stories leading up to this encounter, Jacob swears by God (31.53) and prays to God (32.9-12). Thus, in Jacob, we meet a man at the crossroads of faith and frustration. In this time, his inability to separate his anger at God and the world echoes our own.
Jacob’s second meeting also reveals an awareness of the need for God that characterizes a maturing faith. As he wrestles, Jacob again makes demands on God, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me (32.26).” Although his demand in chapter 28 was for proof in God’s power, this demand is for help from a proven God. Indeed, in his declaration to Laban in chapter 31, Jacob acknowledges that God has met his request from chapter 28 to “be with me”:
“If the God of my father, the God of Abraham and the Fear of Isaac, had not been on my side, surely now you would have sent me away empty-handed. God saw my affliction and the labor of my hands, and rebuked you last night (31.42).”

In his humility, Jacob knows he needs the blessing from this proven God, and at some point, every person of faith needs to come terms with their dependence on God.
Jacob’s desire for control, which ultimately subsumes his humility, reflects this consistent temptation on our faith journey. God knows Jacob’s hunger for God’s protection has become a desire to control God when Jacob presses ahead and dares ask God, “What is your name (32.27)?” In times of chaos, our need for God as well as control of life, and therefore God, often collide.
In the third encounter between God and Jacob, we see a person mature in faith. God needs no ancestral appeals or midnight struggles to introduce himself. He simply states, “Your name is Jacob (34.9).” Thus, when God asserts his power, “I am God almighty (34.11),” Jacob neither requires proof of it nor security that God will act on Jacob’s behalf. He simply acknowledges this power and gives thanks. As the text indicates, “Jacob set up a pillar in the place where he had spoken with hum, a pillar of stone; and he poured out a drink offering on it, and pour oil on it (34.14).”
Mann offers that “Of ‘Israel’ means that Jacob “has struggled with God and with humans and prevailed,” it also means, “God rules (63).” I do not think Jacob fully realizes this until the end, until he has climbed the ladder of life in faith. Thus, in Jacob we see a man who matures and grows in faith over time. This growth is not linear and reflects the ups and downs of our lives. It offers hope in showing us that in our struggles, God is willing to wrestle with us and still bless us.