The Mythology of Iron & Wine

Sam Beam, the singer-songwriter who records under the nom-de-disque of Iron & Wine, is as far removed from your average rock star as it's possible to be and still sell records. Like Will (Bonnie "Prince" Billy) Oldham, he sports a beard big enough to nest a family of puffins, behind which he lurks quietly, evading the less welcome attentions resulting from his recent celebrity.

A friend asked me if Sam Beam (aka Iron & Wine) is a Christian? My inkling -- to paraphrase Andy Gill above -- was that he mentions Jesus, God and faith as much as it's possible to do and still not be a Christian. Some Google searches (what else?) confirmed this, with Beam identifying himself as an agnostic.

The explanation for his frequent use of biblical imagery is that he was raised in the "Christ-haunted" landscape of the South:

We went to a Presbyterian church, sometimes a Baptist one. All kind of different but all loved Jesus.

Of Christianity, he says,

That was my mythology as a kid. Those were the stories that we learned how to live life (from). I didn't have Zeus and Athena. We had Jesus and Job.

I know the word "mythology" comes with all sorts of connotations, but I quite like the way Beam phrases his Christian past. Our faith is not a set of abstract principles about an "unknown god", but a mythology, or to use a less controversial word, a story, centered on the man Jesus. Paul makes this clear in the latter of half of Acts 17, where we trumps the stories of the Greek gods with the story of the one true God, made known through Jesus. He is giving these Greeks a new mythology, a new story that will dismantle the old ones and create fresh ways of living and moving and being -- ways consistent with the story of Jesus's death and resurrection.

Though Beam has grown to question the truthfulness of the Christian story -- and let's be honest, we all do to some degree when we look at the broken world around us -- God remains in his thoughts and in his songs in a way that many Christian artists would do well to learn from:

You have your three big things that you can talk about, basically, if you’re going to write something that actually means something to you as a human being, which is Love, God and Death. That’s basically the thing. Love, which occupies a lot of our time, because we don’t like being lonely. God, because everyone wants to know that there’s a reason behind what they’re doing and what the hell is going on. And death is just the reality of your finite time here.

If you've yet to be converted to Iron & Wine, here's a song that's been swirling around in my head for the last week. It merges each of the "three big things" into one simple and beautiful piece of art.

Doctrine Fiends

“Sure, there are some Catholics who are Christians, but…”

I’ve said something like this before, and I’ve heard a few others under the Evangelical umbrella make similar concessions. The point of such an observation is to avoid painting every individual Catholic with the same brush. It is to reluctantly acknowledge the sure reality that they’re not all spellbound by Rome. The law of averages demands that at least a few of them are genuine believers, and so yes, there are some Catholics who are really Evangelicals Christians. There, isn’t that very inclusive and gracious?

No, not particularly.

The problem I now have with this pseudo-graciousness is not necessarily that it is a false observation. I’m not suggesting that we amend it and say that most (or all) Roman Catholics are Christians. In reality, we simply don’t know the proportion of professing Catholics who have a genuine trust in Jesus and who thus “walk in the Spirit”. But is it not also true that we don’t know the proportion of Evangelicals whose faith is genuine? Why is it that only some Catholics are Christians, with the implication being that most if not all Evangelicals are Christians?

My point is that if we can say that there are some Catholics who are Christians, can we not equally say that there are some Evangelicals who are Christians? Or perhaps better still, shouldn’t we simply leave the judging to the One who will judge justly? If we don’t, then where will the madness end? Calvinists will admit that some Armenians are Christians, hyper-Calvinists will concede that some Calvinists are Christians, and so on until eventually we’ll have a denomination of Christianity that claims there are actually no Christians at all; the subset of genuine Christians amongst the professing ones will be the nullset, if you’re into that kind of thing.

When Jesus tells the story about separating the sheep from the goats (Matt. 25), the basis of the separation is not whether one is Evangelical or not. The goats are not all the non-Evangelicals of this world, and the sheep are not all the Evangelicals plus a couple of the Catholics that made the cut. The difference maker -- and this is a hard pill for us doctrine fiends to swallow -- is not our denomination, but our treatment of fellow human beings. The ones accepted by God will show themselves to be those who feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and visit the sick. On this basis, might we say that there aren’t many people across all religions and denominations who are as right with God as they’d like to think they are? In light of this, shouldn’t we remove the plank from our own eye before pointing out the speck in our neighbours’?

Christian Theology

What then might a specifically Christian theology be? More, I take it, than simply an account of what Christians have believed in the past, or believe in the present, though those tasks will always be part of the whole. That whole includes a necessarily normative element. It will attempt not just to describe but to commend a way of looking at, speaking about, and engaging with the god in whom Christians believe, and with the world that this god has ceated. It will carry the implication that this is not only what is believed but what ought to be believed. To the relativist's response, that this will seem very arrogant, Christian theology will reply that it can do no other. If it is not a claim about the whole of reality, seen and unseen, it is nothing. It is not a set of private aesthetic judgments upon reality, with a 'take-it-or-leave-it' clause attached. Even the relativist, after all, believes that relativism is universally true, and sometimes seeks to propogate that belief with missionary zeal. Christian theology only does what all other worldviews and their ancillary belief-systems do: it claims to be talking about reality as a whole.

- N.T. Wright

On That Lie

Meaningless, meaningless, says the Teacher. Utterly meaningless. Everything is meaningless.

Not the words of an atheist philosopher, but the words of an inspired writer of Scripture. Suspend with me whatever beliefs you have about the world and take a look at this brief clip from television's greatest gift to its viewers. This scene came to my mind as I listened to an introductory sermon on Ecclesiastes last night.

To summarise what's going on here, a drug war is about to break out between two crews, but the thing that instigated the war never actually occurred. It's all predicated on a lie. So what now? Well, in the words of Slim Charles, "if it's a lie then we fight on that lie, but we gotta fight".

And this relates to Ecclesiastes how exactly? Well, say the Teacher is right. Say everything is meaningless, even the greatest things. Take this worldview to be what's real. My question is this: Why does almost everyone "fight" on the lie that there is meaning in the world, that their choices matter in some profound way? We all do it, whether we identify ourselves as Christians or atheists or what have you. We pretend that love between two people matters, we pretend we can make a difference in the lives of others and in the state of the world. We pretend so much and so convincingly that though we may or may not affirm in our cosmic reflection time that ultimately there is no meaning, our day to day lives and thought-processes tell of a story. that matters significantly In many ways, we exchange the truth about meaninglessness for the lie of meaningfulness, whether we're aware of it not. To paraphrase Slim, if meaningfulness is a lie, then we live on that lie, but we've gotta live.

Of course the Christian worldview does not affirm meaninglessness. The truth as Christians understand it (though only in part) is that the origins of the world spring from a God of love and purpose, who made mankind in this image. The desire for love and purpose remains as God's fingerprint on His creation, yet we are confused because of our alienation from the Creator. We cannot handle the truth about God, yet we cannot handle a truth void of true love and purpose. In this state we end up living our lives based on two lies - God is nonexistent/irrelevant, and there is meaning in the world.

The Christian proclamation, however, is that the latter is no lie. We are not faking it when we act as if love ultimately matters. A broken heart is not irrelevant, nor is a restored one. Relationships matter, our vocation matters. It all matters. The lie that we all fight on -- that there is meaning in the world -- turns out to be the truth. Why? Because Jesus is the truth; the truth about God and the truth about man. His supreme act of love and His vindication by resurrection has changed everything. New creation and thus new meaning has burst into the world. When we adjust ourselves to this reality, things begin to make sense.

Unlike this post.

History Matters

"Some religions, ancient and modern, require no historical basis, for they depend on ideas rather than events. Christianity is not one of these." - Everett F. Harrison

This is the opening line to a book called "A Short Life of Christ", and what an opener, eh?

The book is part of my reading list for Scripture School (or SS for short, though I'm pretty certain Adolf Hitler wasn't employing Scripture School to enforce his racial ideology, so best be careful not to confuse the two). A fine book it is, with this one line standing out among many others of similar profoundness.

I don't know about you, but I don't care too much for history. I'm a man who lives in the here and now, and so I don't concern myself with past goings on. I'm reminded of that little exchange between Bart and Krusty the Clown, which nicely sums up my position:

Krusty: Aw, heck: now where am I gonna get a danish?

Bart: Here's a danish, Krusty!

Krusty: Gimme, gimme, gimme! [devours it] Now that's danish! Where'd you get it?

Bart: I stole it from Kent Brockman.

Krusty: Great! [realizes] Uh, he didn't touch it, did he?

Bart: No.

Krusty: Good job, kid! What's your name?

Bart: I'm Bart Simpson. I saved you from jail.

Krusty: [not remembering] Er, I...

Bart: I reunited you with your estranged father.

Krusty: Er, uh, I don't know...

Bart: I saved your career, man! Remember your comeback special?

Krusty: Yeah, well, what have you done for me lately?

Bart: I got you that danish.

Krusty: [grateful] And I'll never forget it.

My point is that I can be so like Krusty, acting with complete disregard for everything that's happened, and caring only for what someone can do for me now.

Such thinking easily carries over to my Christian life, with unhealthy results. I tend to 'Greek up' my Christian experience, reducing it to a supreme knowledge of how the world works or the meaning of life. It may be a well intentioned thing I do, but it misses the point - the point being God's actions in history, and His actions even today.

When the Christian life becomes a list of great ideas, it loses both its power and its relevance. Yes, the Christian life is a really good way to live. I'd even go so far as to say it's the best way to live. Love your neighbour, forgive, be kind, don't steal - these are all desirable virtues. But they're not the basis on which our faith lies. They're a result of our faith, sure, but the faith of a Christian should go much deeper than simply believing that copying Jesus is a good way to live. This is similar to what I wrote about in my last post, but it's not so much the 'how' as the 'what lies behind the 'how''.

The Christian doesn't simply put his or her trust in ideas. Trust is placed in God - the God who acted in history, and who still acts today. Christianity depends on this history, because without it all it is is a dead faith. As Paul said to the Corinthians, if Jesus wasn't raised from the dead then his preaching is in vain, and so is everyone's faith. It's meaningless and futile unless there is a real historical root.

This is why the cross should be such a point of focus for the Christian today. Jesus' death and resurrection is our equivalent of the Red Sea crossing, only greater and more powerful. To meditate on it and inform people of it is not something that is irrelevant to our culture today. This event is the epicentre of God's action in history, and it's the event that separates Christianity from all the idea-based religions and ways of life that we are so easily drawn to. It's an event that is as relevant today as it was two thousand years ago, because it still bridges the gap between God and humanity - something no idea can claim to do.

The fundamental confession of a Christian isn't something ideological. It isn't anything to do with values or morals or good ways of living. The confession is a simple one, rooted in history and just as real today. It's "Jesus is Lord".

Those who reject Christianity most likely don't do so because they don't think it's good to love your neighbour, or treat people well, or to tell the truth. They do so because they reject the history of it. They don't acknowledge God as their Creator, and they don't acknowledge that they needed someone to die on a cross for their sins. You can explain to someone all the good that is involved in the Christian life, but until they can acknowledge the historical truth, and until they can say "Jesus is Lord", they will forever find themselves not being good enough, and not tasting of the grace of His Kingdom.

What's So Good About the Gospel?

I just heard from a high ranking source in NUIG Christian Union that next weeks meeting will be a discussion based on the question "What is the Gospel?" This excites me very much.

I've lost count of the amount of times I've heard this question asked over the last few months, and every time I reflect on it I'm never fully happy with what my own answer is.

There are a few snappy little sentences that sum up the Gospel quite nicely - "God with us", or "Christ in you, the hope of glory". These I like, but to a lot people they don't mean very much. They might sound very nice (and I think they do), but what's the meat of them?

I'm reminded of that scene in the cartoon version of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe when Beaver mentions Aslan's name, and all the kids suddenly display beaming smiles of hope, despite not really having a clue who Aslan actually is.

The same thing can happen with these short little Gospel summaries. You can be left with a smile on your face upon hearing them, but then ten seconds later you're scratching your head wondering what it's all about.

I'm not going to attempt an exhaustive Gospel message in this blog, but I will quickly look at Romans 1:16-17, which reveals what the Gospel is and why it is so powerful.

First off, the what:

"For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes..." - Rom. 1:16

In other words, the Gospel is the power of God for salvation. To understand our need for salvation, we need read nothing more than Romans 1:18-32, or even take a long, hard look at ourselves. To understand the means of salvation, we need look no further than the life (and death…and then life again) of Jesus Christ.

The Gospel is good news because it addresses mans most fundamental problem – sin. When we realize our sinfulness in all its totality, only then can we see our need for salvation.

The reason Paul is so enthusiastic about the Gospel, the reason why he's willing to go to prison over it, and even die because of it, is because it is a message of salvation. It is a message that will save people, even from the very sting of death itself, because it deals effectively with the fact we have a holy God, and we are an unholy people who deserve wrath. Doesn’t such a message sound like something worth dying for?

We may then wonder how such salvation is possible. Is the Gospel basically God throwing us a rope to grab onto, and if so, then what's the point? Escapism?

Paul says why the Gospel is the power of God in the next verse, as he writes,

"...it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes...For in it the righteousness of God is revealed..."

That little word "of'" is ambiguous to say the least, but in this context we can take "righteousness of God" to mean two things, which makes the ambiguity necessary. First, it means that the righteousness that God Himself possesses is revealed. In the Gospel, we see God for who He really is. After all, as Jesus said, "if you have seen Me you have seen the Father". God made Himself known to humanity by being "with us" in Jesus, and to behold Him is to behold the very essence and character of God. In fact it is to behold God Himself.

Secondly, the “righteousness of God” refers to the righteousness that comes from God; the righteousness that is imparted to us by God Himself, which is also His own righteousness. This, above all else, is why the Gospel is good news. God hasn't just thrown us a rope. He has actually come down to our world in order to restore us and redeem us.

As Dr Arden Autry says, “Salvation isn’t about God taking us out of creation. It’s about God coming down to creation and restoring it”. These are simple words, but how often do we miss the whole point, and make Christianity sound like some belief system that takes you to a different plane of thought completely unrelated to the world around us. We damage ourselves and damage others by turning Christian salvation into an escape hatch, instead of living it out and relating the utter truth of it.

And the truth of it is that this holy and just God is also a God who desires restoration, and He accomplishes this in us by imparting His very life into all who believe in Jesus Christ. This is what Paul is talking about when he writes about the “mystery” that was hidden for ages. He reveals that mystery, which is “Christ in you, the hope of glory”. That is, our hope of being restored to being men and women who perfectly reflect the character of God. We do not become God, but we become His image bearers, as we were originally intended to be. This only comes to fruition when we die of course, but here on earth we are being transformed from one degree of glory to another, until that day when we see Him and become like Him in pure perfection.

A holy God pronounces unholy people righteous by faith, and they can now live at peace with God and in fellowship with one another, with Jesus Christ as their Lord and Saviour.

Doesn’t that sound like good news? I think so anyway.

There’s a lot more to be said about the Gospel of course, and certainly at lot more that could be unpacked from these verses, but here's a little taster anyway.

Predestined To Be an Arminian?

In his book A Generous Contradiction Orthodoxy, Brian McLaren claims to be both a Clavinist and and Arminian. For those of you who don't know, this means that McLaren thinks that salvation is based solely on God's soveriegn choice, but he also believes that it's based on God's will and our choice. This is of course a massive contradiciton, and I have no doubt it's not the only one to emanate from the pen of Brian McLaren.

My point here however isn't to diss Brian McLaren, though I guess I've managed to do that anyway (you only have to read the full title of the aforementioned book to come up with enough fodder for doing so). My aim is to relate my own struggle with the Calvin/Arminius debate.

To be honest I didn't even hear of such a debate until a few years ago, at which point the Arminian way seemed most 'correct' to me based on my current knowledge of God and the Bible and so forth. However, upon listening to several Calvinist viewpoints, and reading some material by R.C. Sproul (who pretty much manages to talk about Calvin's doctrine of predestination every second sentence, no matter the topic....Okay I exaggerate, but he's a Calvinist through and through) the Arminian view is not quite as sturdy as I once thought.

Above all else, it seems to me that Romans 9 should really settle the debate, with verse 16 being the core of Calvinistic doctrine:

"So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy."

How does an Arminian respond to this text? How can anyone say that salvation depends both on God and our choice when a verse like this is contained in the Bible?

I must admit, the Arminian way sounds fairer. To have our salvation based on God's sovereignty and our free will seems like the right way to do things. However, with our own natural free wills, can we ever choose God? What makes one man choose to follow Christ and another man choose not to follow him? Both are born into the same sin. Both have been inwardly corrupted because of the Fall, so how can one choose God and one reject God?

The choices we make in life are based on our desires. The question is, can some people's natural desire be to turn to God? When God offers salvation, does anyone on the earth have the natural capacity to accept that salvation and put their faith in God? If so, why them and not countless others?

In Romans 3 we are told that "no one seeks God". This seems to me to indicate that out of man's natural free will, there is none who chooses God. Therefore, we need God to plant in us the desire to seek after Him, and so even our seeking after God depends not on us, but on God.

You might think "Well what about my free will? Doesn't this just make me some kind of robot?" This is a question I asked of Calvinism, and the answer lies in the source of our decision making - our hearts. R.C. Sproul puts it this way:

"To be sure, for us to choose Christ, God must change our heart. That is precisely what He does. He changes our heart for us. He gives us a desire for Himself that we otherwise would not have. Then we choose Him out of the desire that is within us. We freely choose Him because we want to choose Him. That is the wonder of His grace."

This line of reasoning is compelling, and so I'm very interested to see how Dr Arden Autry approaches Romans 9 from the viewpoint of a non-Calvinist (though not quite an Arminian). He likes to joke about this big debate by saying " I guess I just wasn't predestined to be a Calvinist", which I think is pretty funny. However, the arguments put forward by Paul in Romans 9 cannot be ignored. And you certainly can't set Scripture against itself by saying John 3:16 disproves what Paul says, just like you can't say Jesus is not the Creator but a creature, based on Colossians 1:15. The question is, do we interpret Romans 9 in light of John 3:16 and other similar passages, or do we interpret these other passages in light of Romans 9 and the likes?

There may be an Arminian line of reasoning that makes sense of Romans 9, but I can imagine that much is read between the lines to try and make it fit. What leaves me leaning toward the Calvinist view is the fact that Paul asks the rhetorical question "Is there injustice on God's part?". If he was preaching an Arminian doctrine on predestination, such a question would not arise, becasue the Arminian viewpoint clearly demonstrates justice in action. However, when hearing the Calvinist argument, that's almost the first question on everyone's lips, and Paul is quick to address it.

I don't claim to have made up my mind to become a Calvinist. At the end of the day, such a debate is of secondary importance, and there are Christians who really don't care what side they're on, which is fine. However, grappling with the nature of God and salvation is something that intrigues me, so I can't just ignore such a debate. I would be interested to reading some comments from others, Arminian's and Calvinists alike, and even people who have no partiality towards either. What is it about Calvinism that you don't agree with? Why do you believe Arminianism to be the right way? How are we to interpret Romans 9?

Welcome to my labour of love everyone!

Does Christianity Make You Cross?

I've been reading a book called Holiness by J.C. Ryle for the last few months. (Is it just me or do all true men of God have names that go X.Y. [Surname] - R.C. Sproul, D.A. Carson, N.T. Wright, F.F. Bruce. From now on, I insist you call me D.J. Kelly). There's a lot to discuss from it so this certainly won't be the last time I mention it, but I bring this book up now because it came up in a conversation the other day. Yesterday, in fact.

We got to talking about people who used to be Christians but have now turned their backs on the Christian life. Obviously this is a tricky topic, and I'm not going to go into things like 'Were they even Christians to begin with?' and 'If so, then have they lost their salvation, or is that possible?' These are fascinating questions no doubt, but I'm not going to answer them for several reasons, chief of which is that I don't know the answers, which kind of makes all the other reasons a bit irrelevant.

Anyway, the issue at hand is why this happens? Why this fallout? If Christianity (and more specifically, Christ) really is the one true answer to all of life's questions then why do people let go of it when they have it in their grasp?

One of my fellow conversers gave Biblical proof that such a thing will happen, because we are told "the gate is narrow and few will find it".

So while we know what will happen - few will finish the Christian race - the why wasn't clarified. Enter D.J. Kelly, armed with his previous night's reading material. I said to them 'These people never counted the cost.'

Ryle opened his chapter entitled 'The Cost' with the verse in Luke that says:

'Which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first and counteth the cost?'

The people we mentioned who have fallen away from Christ, the people who turned their backs on him, in all liklihood never truly counted the cost, or were never taught to do so to begin with. And this goes as a warning for me to. Have I sat down lately and counted the cost? Am I aware of the struggle that lies ahead? Do I know the hardship that a life lived for Christ entails?

Ryle says that "a religion which costs nothing is worth nothing". So what does it cost?

He lays out four costs which he elaborates on. These four are:

- It will cost him his self-righteousness...He must be willing to give up all trust in his own morality, respectability, praying, Bible reading, church-going, and sacrament receiving, and to trust in nothing but Jesus Christ.

- It will cost a man his sins. He must be willing to give up every habit and practice which is wrong in God's sight...There must be no separate truce with any special sin that he loves.

- It will cost a man his love of ease. He must take pains and trouble, if he means to run a successful race towards heaven.

- It will cost a man the favour of the world

This may not be an exhaustive list, but it covers most of the things which make Christianity a 'narrow way'. When we look at this list, is it little wonder that people opt for the broad path? And more pressingly, if you're a Christian, when you look at this list, can you identify with these costs? Are you out of favour with the world? Is your life difficult and troublesome? Are you willing to surrender those sins which you would wish to cling to? And most importantly, are you willing to give up all trust in yourself and trust only on Jesus?

I ask these things of myself as much as anyone else, because as Ryle puts it,

A cheap Christianity, without a cross, will prove in the end to be a useless Christianity, without a crown.

How often is this kind of message preached when people are putting their trust in Jesus for the first time? How often do pastors remind their congregation of these hard-to-swallow truths? Ryle says that we should "Entreat men to repent and come to Christ; but bid them at the same time to count the cost."

Jesus never made it easy for people to follow Him, nor should we. There is amazing hope in the gospel, of course. We're not supposed to just give people a doom and gloom picture of what it means to be a Christian. "Christ in you, the hope of glory" is the goal of the Christian life. We will one day be fully restored to the image of God, and enjoy perfect fellowship with Him and one another because of all that Christ accomplished. But to get to that place there is a price to pay and a cross to bear. To be aware of this and to daily draw on Christ's strength is to run a successful race. To be ignorant of this and turn back to the broad way is to gain the whole world, but lose your own soul.

"It may cost much to be a true Christian and a holy man; but it pays." - J.C. Ryle

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(For another excellent resource on the cost of living a Christian life, see Creflo Dollar's sermon series entitled 'Putting the $ back in Chri$tianity'.)

Not Creed, But Christ?

I read That Incredible Christian by A.W. Tozer a few months ago, and while all of the (short) chapters are well worth a read, the chapter entitled 'How Important is Creed?' has always stuck with me. I mention this because I got caught up in a little conversation yesterday about doctrine and knowledge and all that intellectual stuff, and this chapter came straight to mind.

In it, Tozer highlights what was then (and probably still is) the cry of many Christians - Not creed, but Christ. Basically, he says this cry ushers us to forget about the nitty gritty of doctrine and go straight to Jesus. Sounds good, doesn't it? In fact, as Tozer says, this expression appears to honour our Lord more perfectly by focusing all of our attention on Him, and not upon 'mere words'.

However, he goes on to say that this kind of thinking is not the right kind of thinking. In fact, it's not really thinking at all. According to Tozer,

Love must be intelligent and informed if it is to have any permanent meaning.

I have to say, I agree with this wholeheartedly. I think too often as Christians we rely on our feelings in order to gauge how spiritually healthy we are. We love God when we have that warm, tingly feeling inside, and we are far from God when we feel down and depressed. I mean think of the dangers of this kind of behaviour in earthly relationships. Relying on 'feelings' for someone here on earth will only get you so far. You may set your eyes on a beautiful woman and have all these feelings rush through your body at the speed of light. She may then say or do something kind or loving to you, which causes even more excitement to well up within. However, if that's as far as things go, then could you ever say you truly love her? Of course not, because you don't actually know this person. You don't know who she is, you don't know what she stands for, you don't know how she treats people, you don't know what she values. Now of course she might be perfect with regards all these things, but if you don't get to know her and thus become informed of her qualities, then any kind of love you claim to have for her will be superficial, and it may not last, because feelings fade.

In the same way, we can go through life experiencing various 'buzzes' that we get from Jesus, but never fully understanding who He is, what He has done, what He is doing, and what He will do. And as a consequence, how can we ever really worship what we do not know? As Tozer says,

We must worship in truth as well as spirit; and truth can be stated and when it is stated it becomes creed.

Of course a deeper intellectual knowledge of who Jesus is and what He did is not the goal of the gospel. You can know all the right things about Jesus and tick all of the right boxes, but never know His life inside of you. Faith in Jesus Christ is the heart of the Christian life no doubt, but a maturing knowledge of Jesus Christ must follow suit.

The kind of knowledge I'm referring to isn't simply the knowledge that will help you pass a test in Theology 101. It's the kind of knowledge that brings about transformation by the renewing of your mind. How can we live like Jesus lived unless we know what it is He stands for and what it is He values? It's not a case of ZAP! and then suddenly you just walk around like a zombie doing good things. We must read the Bible for ourselves and allow the Holy Spirit to write the truths it contains within our hearts. Truths like who Jesus is, what He has done, how He wants us to live. The sermons we hear on Sunday must challenge us to think differently to the rest of the world. We should be engaging in conversations where iron begins to sharpen iron.

All of these things speak to both our intellect and our hearts. I think that too often we as Christians view the mind as something worldly and the heart as something godly, so therefore we think we need to shut off our minds and just let the Spirit stir in our hearts. This is not what Scripture teaches however. We are to love God with our minds, as well as every other facet of our being (Matt. 22:37).

If all you have are feelings of love for Christ without any sound foundation, then how can you ever be an effective evangelist with lasting fruit? The apostle Paul didn't appeal to King Agrippa on the basis of how Jesus made him feel. He appealed to King Agrippa by proclaiming the truth about Jesus, in order that he would believe and 'become also as I am' (Acts 26).

Because when we truly believe everything Paul believed, when we join ourselves to Christ through faith in Him, when we allow ourselves to be transformed by the renewing of our minds, when we are so consumed with the knowledge of Jesus Christ, then we will be a people who worship in spirit and truth, and a people ready to lead others to do the same.

The effort to be practicing Christians without knowing what Christianity is about must always fail. The true Christian should be, indeed must be, a theologian. He must know at least something of the wealth of truth revealed in the Holy Scriptures. And he must know it with sufficient clarity to state it and to defend his statement. - A.W. Tozer