This is why I started Borderlands
May 15th, 2009Watch this then we can talk:
Now…I don’t know what you’re thinking or how you’re feeling right now. Maybe you’re impressed by the apparent humility of this video. Maybe it touches something deep inside you and sets you to thinking, “That’s right! Christianity isn’t about all the ‘Thou Shalts’ and the ‘Thou Shalt Nots.’ It’s about showing the kind of love and compassion that Jesus showed.”
There is something compelling about this clip. The participants are willing to ask tough questions, wrestle with them and discuss them openly. And for some Christians, this process of asking questions seems like an off-limits exercise in temporary heresy. Sometimes, it is helpful when someone vocalizes the doubts you’re feeling.
As I drew near my time in high school and during my first year or two of college, I lived in a world of questions. And many of the questions I was asking seemed to blow apart the faith I had grown up knowing.
I questioned the Bible: How did we get it? What does it mean to say the Bible is God’s Word? Why are there apparently contradictory statements in the Bible? How are we supposed to apply stuff written 2,000 years ago to our world today?
I questioned my theology: If Jesus’ death can cover my sin, why can’t it cover the sin of every person who has ever lived? Can’t everyone be saved? Is it naive to say Adam and Eve really existed? Does it even matter if they did? What does it mean to say Jesus was “the Son of God”? Does Scripture really teach that He was God in human flesh?
I questioned my politics: Can Christians really support war in any circumstances? Are Christians supporting institutionalized murder when they support pro-death penalty politicians? Should Christians really engage in a corrupt and corrupting political system? Shouldn’t our society be doing more to support the financial needs of its citizens?
Basically, I asked many questions. A lot of them were rooted in my study of Scripture itself. I was really digging into the Bible. It seemed to me that some Christians were only reading the parts of the Bible that supported their point of view. And that troubled me. I didn’t want to be a person who simply settled into a default position because it felt comfortable. I wanted to look Truth in the face and embrace it, even if it threatened to tear my secure convictions apart.
I was a religion and philosophy major in school. My profs were people who not only knew about the questions I was asking, they could ask them better than I could! And many of them gave answers that stood in direct opposition to anything like what I had grown up calling, “The Christian Faith.” For a time, it was exhilarating to rub shoulders with such intellectuals, people willing to ask the tough questions, people willing to propose risky and daring answers:
Question: “Why does the Bible appear to contradict itself?”
Answer: “Because it does! The Bible was a book written by human beings with all the flaws, foibles and factual limitations of humans living in a pre-scientific world. It was a book written by sometimes sexist men and culturally exclusive theologians.”
Question: “Doesn’t that mean the Bible is not God’s Word?”
Answer: “No. The Bible is God’s Word to us! When we open the Bible, we can encounter the Word of God speaking to us in our circumstances. It’s not God telling us historical facts, providing timeless moral truth, or teaching culture-transcending theology. It is God using people’s stories to impact the story we are writing with our lives here and now. The ‘truth’ you’re looking for–strict accuracy in reporting events–isn’t the ‘truth’ the Bible carries.”
Question: “Doesn’t that mean we can’t have certainty about a lot of things?”
Answer: “Yes. That’s exactly what it means. But just because we can’t have certainty doesn’t mean we can’t live with conviction. We can live in the conviction that the way Jesus lived is the best way to live, that living a life of hope and love can make this world much better.”
For a while, I flirted with this version of faith. We went on a number of dates, had some good times, and pushed the limits together. But in time, I came to realize that this kind of thinking was not only untrue, it was dishonest. It pretended an humility it did not possess. It paraded an intellectual rigor it was incapable of sustaining. Though it sounded like a deep struggle to come to grips with life, an unfinished project of intellectual exploration, I found it to be an already completed journey into a barren, walled-in wasteland.
I’ll tell you what I mean by that in my next post.
