Samuel Taylor Coleridge uttered profound truth when he warned, “He who begins by loving Christianity more than Truth, will proceed by loving his sect or church better than Christianity, and end in loving himself better than all.”
It’s a matter of priority. It’s like the toy train you might set up around your Christmas tree. The engine goes first, then the coal car, then the other cars, and finally the caboose. This train analogy, though, breaks down because your train will likely run even with the cars out of their proper order. If we get the items in Coleridge’s statement out of order, the whole thing runs off the track in a crash that produces serious injury.
I hear Coleridge saying that our Creator is the Source of all genuine Truth, real and absolute. If we love the Truth most of all, we will be led to the One who is “the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” Followers of Christ are led to worship Him, not only within Christianity but also bowing within a particular Christian group (church), and should find themselves and their own desires blessedly submitted, bowed in proper position, humbly bringing up the rear as “caboose.”
I think he’s right, not least because I see the obvious wreckage that ensues when we get the things out of order.
If we don’t believe in absolute Truth, then we can believe in anything at all or nothing at all. (Not really. Everybody worships something, even if just themselves.) In that kind of world, “two plus two equals five” is as valuable a belief as “two plus two equals four.” That’s nonsense, of course, but we’re far too “tolerant” and nice to call it nonsense. So the train crashes.
If we don’t believe in genuine Truth, then we can easily relegate Jesus of Nazareth to “great human teacher” status and put him on the shelf with Mohammed and Confucius and others, forgetting that truly “great human teachers” are neither insane enough nor devilish enough to claim to be God, as Jesus did (backing up the claim with a resurrection). The train crashes.
Or, if choosing to follow Christ and worship him, we put our own church tradition above all others and even above Christ and His Church which encompasses all of his people, the train crashes, and we easily come to love ourselves, our group, and our own religious opinions better than Christ or truth and end up very religious and very far from God. (It’s the old mistake of Pharisees from all ages.)
Or, loving ourselves most, we may take another road. We may just play at consumer religion, attend for the show when it’s easy and costs nothing, and worship only ourselves, our tastes, our convenience. More train wrecks.
But get the cars in order, and we’ll find that each of them is beautiful and valuable and that God works and is honored through them all.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
"Sit Back, Relax,and Enjoy This Documentary"
The last thing I wanted to do on a recent trip to San Antonio was to have to think much. Thinking is work and I do it poorly. I just wanted to relax. But my wife and I took a tour to a couple of the vintage San Antonio missions, and—here’s the mistake—watched a documentary video, and . . .
The nice volunteer lady at the first mission did a pretty good job (in a bit of a ditzy sort of way) filling us in on some of the history of the place. Established in 1731, it really has some history.
We hurried through the tour so we could get back to the Visitor Center for the last movie about the missions of San Antonio. A good bit of it was quite well done, but I admit that I found myself increasingly bugged by the unacknowledged but very apparent philosophy behind the documentary.
What would you call it? Political correctness? Air-headed (and very intolerant) liberalism? Secular humanism? All of the above?
I wanted to ask our guide (who loved the video) some questions, but I thought better of it:
Are you sure that the Indians—I mean, native Americans—were always unfailingly in the right? I don’t doubt the Christian missionaries at times made serious mistakes and worse, but do you really believe the native peoples never did? I don’t doubt that every culture has much to learn from other cultures, but aren’t some beliefs and practices actually better than others? I don’t doubt that missionaries should respect and learn from the many customs of indigenous folks that are worthy of respect, but if they find folks drinking warm blood out of their uncle’s skull, is it really a bad idea to encourage some better customs? (Forgive me. I used the word “better,” implying that there might actually be some objective standard of right and wrong and that some things, beliefs, and practices might truly be better than others.)
I don’t doubt that in cultures other than our own folks have seen some genuine truth and that some real diamonds may glimmer even within some largely pagan religions. I don’t doubt that people have at times truly worshiped the Creator even though they might not have known His real name, and that we can learn some things from them.
But—work with me here—IF it is possible to actually truly know God’s name, and IF He really has actually in written revelation told us about the name and work of a genuine Savior, aren’t indigenous peoples better off knowing His name and being taught about that Savior?
Such questions are, I know, hopelessly out of fashion. As G. K. Chesterton once wrote, “We are on the road to producing a race of man too mentally modest to believe in the multiplication table.” It seems so harsh to believe in objective standards. It seems so intolerant to believe that two times two always equals four.
But it is still true. If a thing is actually true, we should not be embarrassed about believing it and encouraging others to.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
The nice volunteer lady at the first mission did a pretty good job (in a bit of a ditzy sort of way) filling us in on some of the history of the place. Established in 1731, it really has some history.
We hurried through the tour so we could get back to the Visitor Center for the last movie about the missions of San Antonio. A good bit of it was quite well done, but I admit that I found myself increasingly bugged by the unacknowledged but very apparent philosophy behind the documentary.
What would you call it? Political correctness? Air-headed (and very intolerant) liberalism? Secular humanism? All of the above?
I wanted to ask our guide (who loved the video) some questions, but I thought better of it:
Are you sure that the Indians—I mean, native Americans—were always unfailingly in the right? I don’t doubt the Christian missionaries at times made serious mistakes and worse, but do you really believe the native peoples never did? I don’t doubt that every culture has much to learn from other cultures, but aren’t some beliefs and practices actually better than others? I don’t doubt that missionaries should respect and learn from the many customs of indigenous folks that are worthy of respect, but if they find folks drinking warm blood out of their uncle’s skull, is it really a bad idea to encourage some better customs? (Forgive me. I used the word “better,” implying that there might actually be some objective standard of right and wrong and that some things, beliefs, and practices might truly be better than others.)
I don’t doubt that in cultures other than our own folks have seen some genuine truth and that some real diamonds may glimmer even within some largely pagan religions. I don’t doubt that people have at times truly worshiped the Creator even though they might not have known His real name, and that we can learn some things from them.
But—work with me here—IF it is possible to actually truly know God’s name, and IF He really has actually in written revelation told us about the name and work of a genuine Savior, aren’t indigenous peoples better off knowing His name and being taught about that Savior?
Such questions are, I know, hopelessly out of fashion. As G. K. Chesterton once wrote, “We are on the road to producing a race of man too mentally modest to believe in the multiplication table.” It seems so harsh to believe in objective standards. It seems so intolerant to believe that two times two always equals four.
But it is still true. If a thing is actually true, we should not be embarrassed about believing it and encouraging others to.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
What an Old Wedding Says About Our Living Lord
The setting Jesus chose for his first miracle is almost as amazing as the miracle itself. He changed water to wine at a wedding feast (John 2).
I’m told that when my maternal grandparents decided to get hitched, they first hitched a horse to a buckboard and bounced and rattled down the dusty dirt roads one evening to the preacher’s house. He came out with his Bible, stood beside the wagon, said a few traditional words, and asked the pertinent questions. Each one said, “I do,” and . . . they were. Married, that is. That’s pretty much all there was to it. That wedding kicked off a marriage that lasted over six decades.
Whenever today I hear a couple say, “We just want a simple wedding,” my first thought is, “Oh, dear people, you don’t know what simple is. That beautiful beast is extinct, and I’ll guarantee you, unless you’re married almost immediately, the whole thing will grow, and grow, and grow. Simple is a worthy goal, but we’re more likely to end up with a simple tax code.”
Simple is the last thing a wedding I read about a few years ago was intended to be. From the very first, the bride’s family pulled out all the stops. Picture this in your mind (and then double the glitz): lavish pre-wedding parties, the biggest and most ornate church in a big city, a wedding dress that cost more than the annual budgets of most small countries, a full orchestra, and every wedding “trimming” known to womankind. It was a bona fide occasion of state of which most royal families would be envious.
Perhaps that’s why the bride was even more nervous than most brides. Nervous, she nibbled—a lot—during the hours before the ceremony. As she walked down the long aisle in her lavish dress, the gown was white, but the guests noticed that the bride herself was distinctly green. Just before she reached the altar, she stopped, emerald green by now, bent over, and . . . tossed her cookies, chiseling in stone the one memory every guest would carry with them forever from that royal occasion. Had Elvis himself later shown up to sing, the bride’s retching would be what everyone remembered.
When an engaged couple sits in my office, I always try to remind them that a big wedding and a big marriage have nothing at all to do with each other, and that most of their effort should be spent on preparing for the marriage!
I’m not sure what sort of miracle Jesus might have worked to save the day at the wedding I just told you about, but the fact that Christ cared so much about a humble couple and their special time so long ago at Cana says a lot about the scope and the depth of his love. As he enters not just our feasts but every aspect of our lives, he loves and delights in us, and his mercy and grace are always with us.
May we never forget to invite this most loving Guest to be marvelously present in each moment of our lives.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
I’m told that when my maternal grandparents decided to get hitched, they first hitched a horse to a buckboard and bounced and rattled down the dusty dirt roads one evening to the preacher’s house. He came out with his Bible, stood beside the wagon, said a few traditional words, and asked the pertinent questions. Each one said, “I do,” and . . . they were. Married, that is. That’s pretty much all there was to it. That wedding kicked off a marriage that lasted over six decades.
Whenever today I hear a couple say, “We just want a simple wedding,” my first thought is, “Oh, dear people, you don’t know what simple is. That beautiful beast is extinct, and I’ll guarantee you, unless you’re married almost immediately, the whole thing will grow, and grow, and grow. Simple is a worthy goal, but we’re more likely to end up with a simple tax code.”
Simple is the last thing a wedding I read about a few years ago was intended to be. From the very first, the bride’s family pulled out all the stops. Picture this in your mind (and then double the glitz): lavish pre-wedding parties, the biggest and most ornate church in a big city, a wedding dress that cost more than the annual budgets of most small countries, a full orchestra, and every wedding “trimming” known to womankind. It was a bona fide occasion of state of which most royal families would be envious.
Perhaps that’s why the bride was even more nervous than most brides. Nervous, she nibbled—a lot—during the hours before the ceremony. As she walked down the long aisle in her lavish dress, the gown was white, but the guests noticed that the bride herself was distinctly green. Just before she reached the altar, she stopped, emerald green by now, bent over, and . . . tossed her cookies, chiseling in stone the one memory every guest would carry with them forever from that royal occasion. Had Elvis himself later shown up to sing, the bride’s retching would be what everyone remembered.
When an engaged couple sits in my office, I always try to remind them that a big wedding and a big marriage have nothing at all to do with each other, and that most of their effort should be spent on preparing for the marriage!
I’m not sure what sort of miracle Jesus might have worked to save the day at the wedding I just told you about, but the fact that Christ cared so much about a humble couple and their special time so long ago at Cana says a lot about the scope and the depth of his love. As he enters not just our feasts but every aspect of our lives, he loves and delights in us, and his mercy and grace are always with us.
May we never forget to invite this most loving Guest to be marvelously present in each moment of our lives.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
Monday, January 3, 2011
January Is a Good Time for Looking Both Directions
Well, here we find ourselves again in January, and maybe some reflection is in order.
On the one hand, author Thomas Mann is right: “Time has no divisions to mark its passage, there is never a thunder-storm or blare of trumpets to announce the beginning of a new month or year. Even when a new century begins it is only we mortals who ring bells and fire off pistols.” So a new year? January? Big deal.
On the other hand, I’m always a little surprised when 12:01 a.m. of the new year rolls around and there’s not even any perceptible “bump” indicating that our wheels have run over a chronological curb. Even so, the seasons of the year each do have a discernible character, and I like that.
I like seasons, and I like living in a place where weather-wise, they are pretty obvious. It’s strange. I don’t tend to like change, but I like the changing seasons. I particularly like the fact that there is so very little change each year in the way that they invariably change. I like the particular character with which the Creator has endowed each season, and winter just might be my favorite.
I know nothing about Edith Sitwell, but I think she captures for me winter’s winsomeness: “Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”
There it is: “the time for home.” I like that.
One of my sons recently reflected on the time our family had together at Christmas, and what he said delighted me and may well have been the best Christmas gift I received. He said, “You know, it was really nice to be home. You and Mom have made it a really enjoyable place to be, and that’s true for all of us, from the little ones to all the rest.” I love that, and am immensely thankful for it!
Home matters to me, and there is no place I’d rather be. Maybe that’s why I can think of nothing better (as long as the cupboard is full and there are some good books, old movies, and firewood available), than being snowed in for a few wonderful days. The only way, it seems to me, that we ever have anything much worthwhile to offer to the loud and bustling world outside is when we spend enough quiet and rich time inside, being gently reminded of who we are and Whose we are. That’s true of our homes, I think, and I believe it’s also true of our minds and our spirits.
January gets its name from the Roman god Janus who was depicted on Roman coins as two-headed, looking both ways, backward and forward. He was the keeper of gates and doors.
Wisdom lies in spending the right amount of time looking in both directions. God is still the Lord of both our “coming in” and our “going out.” He is the God of all times, all seasons, both “now and for evermore” (Psalm 121:8).
Copyright 2009 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
On the one hand, author Thomas Mann is right: “Time has no divisions to mark its passage, there is never a thunder-storm or blare of trumpets to announce the beginning of a new month or year. Even when a new century begins it is only we mortals who ring bells and fire off pistols.” So a new year? January? Big deal.
On the other hand, I’m always a little surprised when 12:01 a.m. of the new year rolls around and there’s not even any perceptible “bump” indicating that our wheels have run over a chronological curb. Even so, the seasons of the year each do have a discernible character, and I like that.
I like seasons, and I like living in a place where weather-wise, they are pretty obvious. It’s strange. I don’t tend to like change, but I like the changing seasons. I particularly like the fact that there is so very little change each year in the way that they invariably change. I like the particular character with which the Creator has endowed each season, and winter just might be my favorite.
I know nothing about Edith Sitwell, but I think she captures for me winter’s winsomeness: “Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”
There it is: “the time for home.” I like that.
One of my sons recently reflected on the time our family had together at Christmas, and what he said delighted me and may well have been the best Christmas gift I received. He said, “You know, it was really nice to be home. You and Mom have made it a really enjoyable place to be, and that’s true for all of us, from the little ones to all the rest.” I love that, and am immensely thankful for it!
Home matters to me, and there is no place I’d rather be. Maybe that’s why I can think of nothing better (as long as the cupboard is full and there are some good books, old movies, and firewood available), than being snowed in for a few wonderful days. The only way, it seems to me, that we ever have anything much worthwhile to offer to the loud and bustling world outside is when we spend enough quiet and rich time inside, being gently reminded of who we are and Whose we are. That’s true of our homes, I think, and I believe it’s also true of our minds and our spirits.
January gets its name from the Roman god Janus who was depicted on Roman coins as two-headed, looking both ways, backward and forward. He was the keeper of gates and doors.
Wisdom lies in spending the right amount of time looking in both directions. God is still the Lord of both our “coming in” and our “going out.” He is the God of all times, all seasons, both “now and for evermore” (Psalm 121:8).
Copyright 2009 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
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