One dinner when I was doing my
graduate studies in England, I sat down with an acquaintance of mine. The
college was "evangelical Anglican" in its base, so I thought Will
might be a Christian. Without any evangelistic purpose in mind, I asked him,
"So are you a Christian, Will?"
The response was scolding, "No"--in that drawn out, pretentious
sounding high English accent. "I'm an atheist--the thinking kind."
Well! He sure put me in my place :>)
Now I came to be pretty good friends with Will over the next three years, so I
want you to know that I like Will. Intellectually, I don't have any problem
with his position. On the other hand, I recognize this answer--it's the typical
answer of an ignorant atheist. This is the type of person who has no idea just
how deep some Christians think.
Now mind you, I'm not thinking of myself when I refer to deep thinking
Christians. I'm talking about the people who astound me when I hear them or try
to follow their thoughts. Read some Alvin Plantinga when he's at his deepest,
or Richard Swinburne. I don't always agree with these guys, but it sure takes
me several rereads even to understand what they're saying. I remember hearing
Thomas Oden give his testimony once--I didn't have a clue what he was talking
about. It was so far above my puny seminarian mind (mixed of course with a good
dose of unnecessary pretention on his part, I might add--if I understand his
personality rightly).
In the moment that Will made this comment I felt pretty sure that he really
didn't know many "thinking" Christians. I'll be up front with you--I
went through immense crises of faith in seminary and doctoral days. I basically
came to the conclusion that the incarnation and the resurrection are the rock
bottom core items of Christian faith. Everything else is icing on the cake.
I long ago concluded that if I ever abandoned either of these, then I would no
longer be a "literal" Christian (of course I'm presuming the literal
existence of God as well in all this, as well as other things like God's
involvement in the universe, etc...). If I concluded these weren't true, I
might call myself a Christian but I would have become a
"metaphorical" Christian. Maybe you could call yourself a
"Christian sentimentalist" or a "Christ-fearer" after
you've left this building.
But make no mistake about it. The church owns the building, and the church
believes in these things. If you decide you don't believe these things any more
on intellectual grounds, that's fair enough. I deeply respect that. But you
don't own the building, and you can't take it with you. Resign from your office
as bishop or district superintendent.
John Dominic Crossan left the priesthood--I respect that (although I think he
more left to get married). On the other hand, Sprague and Spong somehow think
it's their task to make the church believe like them. I respect their
intellectual positions (well, maybe Sprague's. Spong's a pseudo-intellectual
who doesn't know what he's talking about). But they've forfeited their
positions of authority in the Methodist and Episcopal churches. They can feel
free to start their own metaphorical Christian church. I'll respect them for
that.
By the way, I'm not talking about doubts here either. I could live with
Crossan, Sprague, and Spong if they had genuine intellectual doubts but
continued to live under the auspice of their offices.
Like I said, the incarnation and resurrection are the cake for me--everything
else is icing. And there is a lot of icing to be sure. These aren't the only
important things we believe, but they're the heart of what we believe.
I generally hesitate to share the full brunt of my own faith struggles because
I know how much we like icing in our communities. I'd love you to believe much
more than just the cake. But when you've found something that makes you think
your faith world is collapsing around you, remember me.
There are some serious questions you'll come across if you pursue things long enough.
Have you ever noticed that Mark says Jesus will appear to the disciples in
Galilee, Paul says Jesus appeared first to Peter, John tells us first of him
appearing to Mary Magdalene in Jerusalem, Luke only tells of appearances in
Jerusalem. It's genuinely hard to fit the resurrection stories together if
you've tried to do it on a historical basis. It can be done, if this is
important to your faith.
But ultimately, my faith stands whether they can be fit together or not.
"Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again." This I
believe. And while I believe in the "icing" of the truthfulness of
Scripture--it's icing. My faith in the resurrection would stand even if you
could show me a thousand errors in the Bible. "On Christ, the solid rock,
I stand. All other ground is sinking sand. All other ground is sinking
sand."
"God doesn't speak to me like He did to Moses." Sorry, who are you?
You're not Moses, that's for sure. The truth doesn't care about anyone or
anything. It just is. Get over it.
I'm not trying to take away any of the icing. I hope most of you will just
think I'm odd or (worse) "liberal." But if one day you find yourself
on the throes of a faith crisis, remember me. I concluded in my doctoral days
that the reason my faith struggled so much was because no one ever clued me in
on where the real stakes were. I grew up with an all or nothing kind of
approach--"either every word of the Bible is true or none of it is
true." I'm quite willing to believe in the truthfulness of the Bible, but
its not where Christian faith ultimately collapses or stands. "On Christ,
the solid rock, I stand."
So you're having questions about God? I'm genuinely sorry, and I'd love to
talk. You're not having questions? Great! But I'd love you to keep me in mind if
you ever do. I want you to know that there are plenty others who've had
questions and have continued to believe. I want you to realize that there is no
doubt you will ever have that someone else who believes hasn't had before you.
It was unfortunately not until I was in my twenties that something dawned on
me. It suddenly occurred to me that my parents had already lived those same
twenty years--about forty years earlier. Here so often I had thought I was
teaching them something. Because it was the first time I was thinking
something, I thought it must be the first time for them too. This is the
arrogance of youth and of ignorance. There's not a thought any of us will ever
have that a million others haven't had countless times in some similar form,
even if our modern circumstances put new clothing on it.
It's the arrogant atheist that I find irritating. This is the person who acts
like they've suddenly had some earthshaking thought no Christian has ever had
before.
Ho hum. Been there, done that. Grow up. You having doubts about God? I respect
that. And I respect the person who on intellectual grounds does not believe in
God.
But don't pretend for one moment that you're any smarter than the countless
Christian thinkers out there who had those same thoughts about forty years ago.
No wait, try a thousand years ago for most of those doubts.
Ken Schenck April 6, 2005