Considering Culture (6)

In the previous post we looked at Jesus as the culmination of God’s Mission. Now we look at the final result — new creation. As has been emphasised a lot recently, the end of the biblical story is not people going heaven, but heaven coming to earth. To quote from Revelation 21:

I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away … I saw the Holy City, the New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God. .. He who was seated on the throne said “I am making everything new”

What happens to our culture in this new heaven and earth? Darrell Johnson points out the following (from Discipleship on the Edge):

God says from the throne, “I am making all things new.” God does not say, as I have wrongly read the words most of my life, “I am making all new things.” For years the future meant for me God scrapping everything of the old creation, and starting over with a whole new plan. “I am making all new things” is how I read it. Now certainly God can make all new things; and I believe, will, and does; and we are called to join God in it. But the point of Revelation 21-22 is that God is taking hold of all things — creation, humans and cities — and making them new.

So, we are reminded that new creation involves the transformation of all aspects of the current creation, not just a small aspect such as human souls. But, we can take this further and look specifically at culture. Johnson looks at Rev 21:24/26

The nations will walk by the light of [the city], and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it … The glory and honour of the nations will be brought into [the city].

and quotes Richard Mouw (When The Kings Come Marching In)

Ancient kings served as the primary authorities over the broad patterns of the cultural live of their nations. And when they stood over against other nations, they were the ‘bearers,’ the ‘representatives’ of their respective cultures. To assemble kings together was in an important sense to assemble their national cultures together. The king of a given nation could bear, singly, a far-reaching authority that is today divided among many different kinds of leaders: the captain of industry; the molders of public opinion in art, entertainment, and sexuality; educational leaders; representatives of family interest; and so on. This is why Isaiah and John could link the entrance of the kings into the city with the gathering in of the ‘wealth of the nations’.

As Johnson summarises it: ‘The presence of kings signals the presence of cultures!’

So, new creation incorporates purified culture. I guess this includes both old culture purified and new culture that develops as intended. In both cases, new creation is a properly working creation, developing in line with God’s character and bringing glory to the Creator.

A final quote, this time from Miroslav Volf (from The Church’s Great Malfunctions), makes the same point and takes on to the next stage of our discussion:

There is a remarkable image in the closing pages of Scripture that has become a touchstone for the way my colleagues and I think about faith and culture. Amid its descriptions of the New Jerusalem, Revelation includes “the tree of life, bearing 12 crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations” (Rev. 22:2). The tree holds out hope that whole cultures will be healed and mended, becoming places where people can flourish. And it sets an agenda for faith as a way of life that contributes to that flourishing, in anticipation, here and now.

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eschatology and art

I discovered a paper by Richard Middleton recently: A New Heaven and A New Earth: The Case for a Holistic Reading of the Biblical Story of Redemption which reminded me of something I had intended to write a while ago. A question that I have been pondering is how our eschatology affects what we do now and what we hold to be important. Here is one place which I suggest may show such a connection.

I think it is relatively uncontroversial that music is the art form that is regarded most highly by evangelicals. There is a whole industry for contemporary Christian music, which it seems dwarfs all other cultural products (e.g. Christian novels, etc.) If you want to be a Christian musician that it is highly likely that you will get support from you church (depending on musical genre). On the other hand, if you are considering moving into conceptual art, the probability of active support is probably lower.

Possible reasons for this emphasis are the high place of music in the wider culture, the focus on word rather than image in the church, the example of the Psalms, etc. But I want to try out an eschatological possibility.

It seems to me that the most common way we picture life-after-death is as a giant worship service. That is, as a principally music-based eternity. If that is really what we think, is it surprising that music is given promenance? Whether or not we think our current songs will make it into eternity, they certainly have a close connection. On the other hand, if that is what we are picturing, is it any wonder that painting, etc. don’t really seem quite so important?

Which brings us to Richard Middleton’s article. He takes a clear look at what a lot of people have been emphasising recently — that God’s long term plan is redeeming the whole of creation, not just getting people into heaven. If that guided our imagination, I wonder where it would take us? (Of course, we’re now connecting back to The Heavenly Good of Earthly Work.)

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The Heavenly Good of Earthly Work (aftermath 2)

OK, still on Darrell Cosden’s book and a couple of points where I would come back for further discussion…

First, the start of the book looks at the implicit ‘heirarchy of callings’ in the church — based on whose work is assumed to have eternal value. The underlying assumption is that such a heirarchy is wrong. I don’t want to disagree with that, but perhaps the assumption could have been explored more. After all, maybe it is the case that some vocations have a greater eternal value & we just have to live with that. Or perhaps we have to accept that the eternal value of my work is indirect, in that I support those who have a more obvious impact. Not a big issue, but one that perhaps should have been given some space.

Second is a slight lack of satisfaction with the exegesis in the book. Obviously the problem Cosden has is that no New Testament writers are aiming to deal with this issue in particular, so you don’t have nice explicit passages. I felt like the book got a little unclear in finding a way through — in trying to take a normal systematic approach it’s possible to get lost in the detailed discussion.

An interesting contrast is an article by Douglas Moo on ‘New Testament Eschatology and the Environment‘. This covers a not unrelated issue (is there continuity between nature now and the new creation) and has a similar problem. However, it seems to me that Moo takes a more helpful approach. He starts head-on, with the observation that there is no clear statement on the issue, but aims to survey the underlying theology.

I think Cosden is trying for more — building a clear case for the inclusion of our work in new creation — but ends up with a less robust result.

Not that the discussions aren’t helpful — for instance the parts on Romans 8 and Revelation 21/22 are great. But it was not completely satisfying.

Maybe I was hoping for more than is possible! Or need to sit and think about it more…

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The Heavenly Good of Earthly Work (aftermath 1)

OK, let’s try a few posts on thoughts inspired by Darrell Cosden’s The Heavenly Good of Earth Work….

First, it is great that this book works to add a eschatological component to our discussions of how Christian belief applies to all of life.

For a number of years, the application of our beliefs to all of life has been a big theme for me. That is, developing a comprehensive Christian worldview. But, there is a slight niggle — a sort of missing link. After reading this, I think part of the niggle has been the feeling that not every thing quite joins up. We have, on one side, the push for all of our thinking to be based on our beliefs about the world and for what we believe to influence all we do. But, on the other, the necessity does not always feel as strong as it ‘should’.

I think a lot of this comes down to eschatology — I can try to apply what I believe to my studies/work/etc., but if all of the things I study/make/etc are headed for the dustbin, then where is the real motivation? Why not expend the mental energy in something more worthwhile?

Cosden’s arguments make an important step in the right direction. (I’m not implying that he has doen somthing other haven’t here, but perhaps he spells it out in a particularly clear way.) If we have the view that things we do at work/study/etc have the potential for ‘heavenly good’ then the dots start to link up better. Now we have a clear motivation for applying what we believe across the board — where the things we do don’t match up with God’s future they become valueless, but where they do… So, if I want them to have significance, I really need to work on how my beliefs impact my day-to-day activities and developing an all-emcompassing worldview.

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The Heavenly Good of Earth Work (4)

The final chapter of Darrell Cosden’s The Heavenly Good of Earthly Work looks at the impact of the preceding discussion on our view of missions. He starts by looking at the ‘crisis’ in missions. In particular, at his own experiences in Russia. In his experience there was an implicit denigration of ‘everyday work’ as those visiting on missions implied that they had been called from meaningless work to something more important. The general message being that everyday work is cut off from God’s mission.

This can be implied in any church when

… our practice of church, our spiritual heroes, and our beliefs about spiritual/eternal things have spoken louder than our words and have undermined what we intended… our words ring hollow when we only regularly and publicly pray for those missionaries on ‘faith support’. And it is hard to believe we really are full-time ‘salt and light’ when only visiting missionaries are asked to come up front in church and visit small groups to talk about the ups and downs of their ministries.

Obviously, a theology based on the ‘heavenly good’ of everyday work takes us to a more inclusive perspective. If all our work can be part of God’s new creation and involves us partnering with God, then we have the potential to be part of God’s mission in every area of our lives.

…when done in a way that images God and co-operates with him, human work in itself images God and thus co-operates with him, human work in itself is Christian missionary activity. Why? Because it is largely (though not exclusively) through our work that we reflect God’s image and co-operate with him in bringing people and the whole of creation to humanity’s and nature’s ultimate maturity and future.

This is, of course, incredibly liberating. Suddenly, I can become part of God’s mission in everything. Not just when preaching, but also when I carry out my everyday work in ways that line up with God’s kingdom.

Of course, we need to find a way to counteract the negative message that has been sent out. How do we do this?

Mostly we need to proactive. Slow and steady will win the race. When we are together in our various Christian gatherings and meetings, small or large, formal or informal, we have to be intentional about devising ways to help us see each person in their daily work as a missionary … [we] need to consciously practice naming ourselves and our work as missionary.

Finally Cosden looks at the way this interacts with evangelism. If we are all made in the image of God and our work is important, then all of us, non-believers and believers, are to larger or smaller extent working with God’s mission:

All people were created to image God, and thus all people by virtue of their humanity are included in God’s purposes for creation. Not all people image God in fellowship with him, but we do nevertheless corporately carry out his mission to work in one way or another.
Importantly, our new mission enterprise based on the heavenly good of earthly work treats people differently from our old approach to mission. God still includes in his purposes those who haven’t yet, haven’t fully, or even won’t ever, come to faith.
Previously, it was simple to catagorize people sharply as either ‘them’ or ‘us’. In this way of thinking, the tendency was always to dehumanize others by treating ‘them’ ultimately as projects.

This is a really fascinating line of thought. I’m particularly interested in the consequence of not treating others as projects. It something that I’ve noticed for a long time: sometimes we seem to be more worried about ‘contacts’ than friends. As Cosden implies, unless we are careful this is a frequent tendency.

Finally Cosden links this into the ‘belonging-before-believing’ debate:

…this new understanding of mission is actually not all that new. In fact, it dovetails nicely with what many of us have been discovering for a long time about mission. That is, people need to be included. They need to belong before they can believe.

In many ways, this final chapter shows the motivation that Cosden has had all along — the expansion to a fuller understanding of mission. And, as I said, it is a great vision that makes a lot of sense and enlarges our view of God’s new creation to one that really encompasses the whole world.

Hopefully, I will find time to write some other reactions to the book n the near future…

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The Heavenly Good of Earth Work (3)

OK, back to Darrell Cosden’s book. The last section works toward building a ‘spirituality of work’ and the impact of the preceding discussion on missions. Let’s try for the first of those here.

He starts by looking at the problems surrounding work and our perspectives. An particularly interesting quote is…

A bad theology of work(s), therefore leads to a failure to enter genuinely into our salvation/justification. There are complex reasons for this, but part of it is that our work(s) are part of who we are, and they cannot help but seek some kind of spiritual home. If we don’t find an appropriate spiritual category for our work, then it takes over our lives and becomes alien to us. It begins to dominate us as we become dis-integrated people.
As we have seen, our work finds its spiritual justification, its alternate home and value, through out justification. Our work is an outworking and expression of who we are. Thus, our justification becomes our work’s justification too. through our freedom in Christ, our work(s) becomes set free so that it has a genuine earthly usefulness now, but also a continued existence, like we do, in heaven.

That triggers all sorts of thoughts and discussions. Not least the thought that in (rightly) guarding against work for our justification, we can throw away too much and find a part of our life that never really gets fitted into God’s plan. Cosden’s argument is that, if we dont’ consciously fit it in to our spirituality, then it takes a distorted place and causes problems. For instance, we subconsciously try to use working hard as a way to pay God back. On the other hand

The fact that God in ‘making all things new’ chooses to incorporate our work(s) moitivates us but does not crush us. It fills our work with meaning and purpose — but not more than we as humans can bear.

In addition, with this perspective we start to have a basis for making real judgments about our work — how does what I do fit in with ‘new creation’?

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