Happy Festivus!

 

Happy Festivus!

I think Festivus is a pertinent celebration to observe, given yesterday’s post on secularism and Christmas.

This post is mainly a piece of housekeeping, to announce that as of today I am taking a brief leave of absence from this blog until the New Year. New posts are currently planned to resume January 4. Until then, I encourage you to take the time to search through the archives (see the button on the sidebar).

As a parting gift, I took a bit of time to share a true story that reflects the tremendous gift of the incarnation. It appears below.

God bless you all and have a great Christmas and New Year.

Adrift (and our soul felt its worth)

They’d been adrift for days.

Plans, it seems, have their own unique way of crumbling, like the exterior of the B-17 bomber over the pacific. His name was Eddie Rickenbacker, and his mission was to deliver a message to General MacArthur who was somewhere in New Guinea.

But now, days later, he and his crew found themselves lost at sea, the wreckage of their plane claimed by the same waves that rocked them endlessly on the swells of the Pacific. Above them was only empty sky. By day they were baked by the suns penetrating rays, and at night the cold salt air raked through their clothes with unrelenting savagery.

Below them was only the curious enmity of the deep, revealed only through fleeting glimpses of fin and scale. And all across, in every direction the needle of the compass could only show them a vast expanse, a heaving desert, an emptiness that at all times threatened to swallow them whole.

And so on fragile life rafts the men could do little more than wait – for what they could never be sure. Perhaps a passing transport would, against impossible odds spot these men. At this point, even the enemy would bring a more welcome sight than another day of this inescapable void in which they had become enveloped.

But a needle in a haystack would be far more easily found than a small group of men adrift in the Pacific – a body of water inconceivably vast and cruelly indifferent to those trapped on her surface.

By the ninth day at sea, the listlessness of waiting had taken a dismal though unexpected turn. Depleted of rations, the small raft of men knew that there was little hope but to succumb to the cruelty of inevitability.

And so armed with only a small Bible, the men conducted an impromptu church service there in the raft, reading the words of the Savior: “Seek first the Kingdom,” all the while wondering if “all things” could ever be added to such a small speck in the ocean.

After the service, Rickenbacker leaned back to nap in the heat.

He awoke to feel a peculiar weight on his head. He could see the startled anticipation on the faces of his companions, leaving little doubt as to what had landed on the brim of his hat.

A sea gull.

A sea gull would mean food. Its meat could be eaten, and its innards could be used as bait to catch fish. Rickenbacker caught the gull that day, and between the bird and a passing rainstorm the men survived for a three more weeks before being rescued.

But the truth of the story is one that should give us pause.

Seagulls only come out to sea to die. And this gull had managed, in the middle of this vast ocean, to locate these needy survivors in the hour of their most desperate need.

Across the void, he found them. He crossed this void, to be a sacrifice for them. He brought with him nothing, but the hope of a second chance.

We are each, in our own way, adrift. We are cut off from land, from rescue, from those we love and from the comfort and stability of solid ground, condemned instead to the rise and fall of a world that tosses us about with cruel indifference.

But at Christmas we remember the miracle of the incarnation – when long lay the world in sin and error pining, God would cross that void to find each and every one of us: alone but far from abandoned, arms outstretched for rescue. And in the middle of this vast cosmic ocean, the Savior finds us, comes to us in our most desperate hour of need, and in His incomparable sacrifice we find provision for new life and new hope.

Across the void, he finds us. He crossed this void, to be a sacrifice for us. He brought with Him nothing, but the hope of a second chance. He appeared, and in a brief moment of time, like the pause before waking, our soul felt its worth.

This Christmas, my prayer is that each of us come to renewed understanding of this story, whispered to us amidst the cluttered noise of the season, and that we come to more fully understand the Savior, God with us, made more vividly real in our lives as we follow Him each day.

Merry Christmas.

Grace and love to you all.

 

Keeping Christ in Christmas (and why you can’t take him out)

 Maybe this post is too little too late, but it seems like every time I sign onto Facebook there’s a half dozen posts and/or “status” updates from Christian friends urging fellow Facebook-o-philes to “keep Christ in Christmas.”

This is usually the same crowd that protests the abbreviation “X-Mas” (apparently forgetting that the “X” is actually the Greek letter chi, thus standing for Christ) or retail stores saying “Happy Holidays.” Apparently if the checkout girl at the grocery store acknowledges Jesus than I should feel better about putting my purchase on her conveyor belt.

But you know something?

I don’t care.

I know, I know; I should open my wallet and take my “Christian” card out and pass it in, because it seems like this is the time of year to get all huffy about the name of Jesus and the public square.

But no, I don’t care. And here’s why:

CHECKOUT LINES AND LINUS

About a week or so ago my older sister, Heather, was in a local Christmas store (and to be clear, the name of the store had “Christmas” in the title, so there was no ambiguity regarding the store’s fundamental nature) making a purchase. She happened to be wearing a sweatshirt depicting a scene from the Charlie Brown Christmas special that we all grew up with. In the middle of the frenzy of making her purchase and getting the heck outta dodge, the guy behind the counter noticed her shirt and commented that it was one of his favorite Christmas specials.

“And you know, that speech he gave at the end?” he continued, referring to Linus’ famous recitation of Luke’s nativity account (“Lights please…”). “Well,” he said, “somebody told me that that’s in the Bible. I never knew that something so beautiful could be in the Bible.”

This of course, was within the same time period that some friends of hers made the comment that they were fascinated by the way the preacher at a Christmas service made a connection between Christmas and religion.

CULTURE SHIFT

What’s happened?

Several things have happened: secularism, deconstructionism and pluralism. Secularism separates Christmas from its Biblical roots, and deconstructionism situates the meaning of Christmas with the individual and his/her family. This means that for many, Christmas is a time of family togetherness, warmth and all that peace-on-earth kind of fuzziness that doesn’t extend much farther than the living room. Meanwhile, religious pluralism prevents public places from proclaiming the message of Christmas any farther than this, and almost never by using the actual word “Christmas,” preferring the more politically correct “Happy Holidays.”

So…my question: in a culture like this, why would we ever expect everyone to embrace the idea of Christmas? Don’t get me wrong: I love Jesus. I want everyone to come to love Jesus. But we have to take seriously the sociological realities that surround us.

And if I can be a bit abrasive, I would suggest that the failure often resides with us as Christians, who would rather live safely behind the walls of the church than actively engage the world for Christ.

SEEKING THE CITY’S GOOD

The same thing was happening when Israel was in captivity in Babylon. Fearing the pagan practices of the Babylonians, the Israelites retreated outside the boundaries of Babylonian culture. But this was the opposite of God’s will for His people. So through the prophet Jeremiah God says this:

“Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. ⁷ Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the LORD for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.” (Jeremiah 29:5-7)

If the Great Commission calls us to “make disciples” of all people groups [panta ta ethne], then we too must “seek the peace [shalom] of the city,” and actively engage our world for the cause of Christ.

The irony, pointed out by Sally Morgenthaler in her book Worship Evangelism, is that at Christmas the secular world, so hung up on the idea of “spirituality” is ready to sing songs about the Savior. Suddenly radio stations crackle to life with Madonna singing Christian hymns, suddenly our big-box stores are playing songs about the birth of the Savior. Like the Ethiopian eunuch (Acts 8), they need someone to come alongside them to help them interpret the cultural text they seem to be reading from.

But this does not mean smugly correcting the checkout girl by insisting on “Merry Christmas.” I’m so much less concerned about whether our retailers are talking about Jesus, and more concerned with whether our churches are incarnating His truth. In John’s gospel Christ tells His followers that “as the Father has sent me, so I send you” (John 20:21). We are to incarnate God’s truth into our world with the same courage, grace and humility of the Savior. This often has more to do with the way we treat one another and who we explicitly share the gospel with than whether we can coerce others to say “Merry Christmas.”

A GREAT DEFICIT

So no, it does not bother me when retailers and other public agencies say “Happy Holidays.” But here’s what does bother me, and if you are a believer in Christ than it should bother you as well.

There is a tremendous deficit in the pulpit of America’s churches. There are churches that spend less time talking about Christ and His gospel and more time on the 8 principles of financial success, how to have a healthy marriage and how to be a better you by 2010. I wish I could tell you that “none of these are bad, but…” but the truth is I’ve said that before and probably didn’t really mean it. They are awful. There’s a reason Paul called his religious upbringing a pile of (ahem) skubala (Philippians 3:8…skubala…that’d be a good thing for you to google later).

I’m not that concerned about retailers refraining from the word Christmas. But if your pastor doesn’t talk about Jesus, then he or she is weak, spineless and frankly needs to find a job they don’t suck at.

As for the rest of us, we can wish everyone a “Merry Christmas,” but let’s not forget that our representation of the Savior runs far deeper than the season’s greetings.

Fairytale of New York: Incarnation and Reconciliation

The song above is “Fairytale of New York,” originally written by The Pogues but ably covered by Dustin Kensrue on last year’s Christmas album The Good Night is Still Everywhere.

The differences between the two versions is quite palpable – The Pogues’ version was a duet between estranged (and angry) lovers. Kensrue’s adaptation is more of an introspective, retrospective look back at a man’s mistakes in the context of a broken relationship.

Though lacking the harshness of the original version, Kensrue’s song is nothing short of heartbreaking, and the additional lines at the end of the song (“I’m an old man now…won’t see another one”) bring to mind Johnny Cash’s cover of Reznor’s “Hurt.”

For many Christmas can be a time of loneliness and sadness. While urban legends exaggerate this (contrary to the popular myth, there are fewer suicides at Christmas than any other time of the year), there is nonetheless a sense of pain and regret that can come from remembering the relationships of years gone past.

In the beginning of Luke’s gospel we find the words of the angel, speaking to Zechariah about John’s role: “…he will go on before the Lord…to turn the hearts of the parents to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous – to make ready a people prepared for the Lord” (Luke 1:17).

In the first century world, families were being fractured by rivaling theological currents, where fathers and sons could be part of very different Jewish sects. But sectarian Judaism would find healing in the good theology that John would bring, theology that would ultimately point to the promised Messiah.

If you are a regular reader (or have heard me speak in any significant capacity), you know that I have repeatedly emphasized the need for developing a holistic gospel, one that embraces the reconciliation between God and man, but also man and his neighbor (cf. Ephesians 2:17-24).

At Christmas we celebrate a time of togetherness made possible through the incarnation of God’s Son, a child who appeared in humble circumstances so that through Him the nations could find peace and healing.

And for us, this season of all seasons, we find renewed reason to love our brothers and sisters – both biological and spiritual – and rejoice in the annealing power the gospel brings.

This isn’t always easy. In fact, it rarely is, especially when dealing with family and friends unwilling to extend or accept the olive branch of reconciliation.

For many, Kensrue’s song rings true because it tells a story tinged with a form of regret we know all too well. But we may hold fast to the hope that in God’s coming Kingdom there will be no such sadness, and all the fig leaves that we fashioned to separate ourselves from one another will be eradicated so that we may find the kinds of redeemed relationships only the Savior can bring.

“From the realms of glory…” The Angels’ Candle (Advent Part 4)

 The fourth and traditionally final candle to be lit on the Advent wreath is the Angels’ candle.

 

While angels appear throughout scripture, Luke’s gospel uniquely describes the praise of the angels over the birth of Jesus. Last week we look at the proclamation to the shepherds, humanity’s lowly representatives. This week we look at the content of their proclamation, centering mainly on Luke 2:14.

 

HEAVENLY PRAISE

 

In Luke 2:13 we see a stratias or “host” of angels appearing before the shepherds, singing “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests” (Luke 2:14).

 Glory, from the Greek word doxa probably refers most directly to the praise attributed to God. Yet the word is used elsewhere in scripture to refer more specifically to describe God’s majesty and significance.

 

Christ was the most significant man who ever lived, if for no other reason than the fact that He was also God. John 12:41 tells us that Christ embodied the “same glory that Isaiah saw.” In Isaiah 6, Isaiah catches a brief glimpse of similar angelic praise, where God can only be described by “the train of His robe,” and around Him fly numerous seraphim – apparently a special class of angel who sing qadosh, qadosh, qadosh – “Holy, holy, holy” – the highest superlative to describe God’s holiness, His “set-apart-ness.” And the same grandeur of this great scene is manifest in the child of Bethelehem, a child that John’s gospel would say has made the Father known (cf. John 1:18).

 

The problem with many of the younger, emerging-type Christians is that they neglect Christ’s deity in their emphasis on His humanity. You can actually go to websites that sell shirts that read “Jesus was homeless,” because today Jesus is often being redefined as a poor, marginalized Galilean peasant. So-called “red letter Christians,” who emphasize Christ’s ethical teachings (i.e., the words that many Bible print in red) are notoriously guilty of this. My advice? Keep reading the red letters. Read John’s writings, whose gospel emphasizes Christ’s deity, and whose Book of Revelation portrays Jesus as a coming warrior.

 

EARTHLY BENEFITS

 

But the words of the angels are not isolated to words of heavenly praise. The miracle of the incarnation is that God’s grace touches earth, and from the virgin’s womb comes God’s great promise to mankind. “On earth,” the angels proclaim, “peace to men on whom [God's] favor rests.” “Peace” corresponds to the term shalom of the Hebrew scriptures (cf. Psalm 29:11) and is a strong feature of Luke’s theology (cf. Luke 1:79; 10:5-6; 19:38-42; Acts 9:31; 10:46). Peace would come through this child, a peace and security extended to God’s elect.

THE KINGDOM

 

God’s kingdom is one that is both heavenly as well as earthly, which is why Jesus would pray as an adult that God’s “will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” This season reminds us of a time when heaven met earth in a prominent way, and invites us to participate in God’s kingdom so that all may hear and understand the message of the angels.

Pieter Bruegel: Art of the Incarnation Part 5

 

Today’s artist is Pieter Bruegel, a sixteenth century painter from the Netherlands. The above painting is entitled “Christ Carrying the Cross,” a favorite of a dear friend of mine who brought it to my attention.

Can you find Jesus? Go ahead; I’ll wait. Give up? The picture below is an enlargement of the center of the painting, just so you can tell I’m not lying about the content.

The painting depicts Christ as lost in a sea of people seemingly unmoved by His presence or suffering. Even today Christ’s presence remains largely unnoticed by culture at large, and before we jump to judgment, we must admit that His presence goes quite frequently unnoticed by people like you and me.

So this season, of all seasons, it is good to remember a Savior who stepped into the world of humanity only to be overlooked by the very ones He came to save. He is Immanuel – “God with us,” though rejected and ignored by us. Yet for those who are being saved, His cross is the power of God.

I trust that you have found this series enjoyable, and that through the visual arts Christ could be made more vividly real to you during this Christmas season.

Georges Rouault: Art of the Incarnation Part 4

 

Today’s artist is the turn-of-the-century French painter Georges Rouault.

 

But before addressing Rouault’s work and its relevance to the doctrine of the incarnation, I want to compare his work to that of surrealist painter Salvador Dali. Dali’s “Crucifixion” painting (right) depicts Christ on the cross, but notice that Dali’s Christ never actually touches the earth. Christ is an ethereal, otherworldly spectre removed from the earth He was sent to redeem.

 

Rouault’s work is markedly different in style and content. The style is known as “fauvism,” known for its beastly use of bold color and strong line. It is easy to notice the influence that working with stained glass had on this painter, as his paintings jump to life with large areas of bold color.

 

But for Rouault, Christ was not removed from this earth but an active participant within it. This is why many of his paintings depict prostitutes and even (surprisingly frequently) clowns. Clowns often are used in his work to represent the lower classes of society, the “least of these” that Jesus came to save – the poor and sinner alike.

 

Rouault therefore situates Christ in a vibrant world where He is actively engaged in the lives of those around Him, a fact made possible by virtue of the incarnation.

 

Ed Knippers: Art of the Incarnation Part 3

FYI: Today’s post contains nudity. If that sort of thing bothers you, today might be a good day to sit things out.

Today’s artist is Ed Knippers. His massive, wall-sized paintings are said to be breathtaking (I’ve yet to have the privilege of seeing them in person). He is a religious painter, in the sense that many of his pieces center on the person and work of Jesus.

The above selection is a painting entitled “Delilah and the Priests,” representing the woman caught in adultery. Note that the priest and the accusers are the ones who are clothed. In Knippers’ work, nudity is often used not to represent innocence, but openness. In other works, the only disciples depicted as clothed are Judas (who betrays) and Thomas (who doubts). Nudity is used to situate Christ and His followers within the real world into which He was incarnated.

The next painting (above) is entitled “The Resurrection of Christ.” Again, note the nude figure of Christ at the center of the painting. As above, the resurrection is depicted as an event that took place within the framework of God’s creation. General revelation (i.e., nature and creation) is certainly not superior to God’s specific revelation (i.e., Christ and the scriptures), but there is a very real sense that one could never understand the one in the absence of the other – without God’s revealed will we would never know the meaning of nature, and without the created world there God’s revealed world would return void from the vacuum.

Speaking on his own work, Knippers himself writes on his website:

“The human body is at the center of my artistic imagination because the body is an essential element in the Christian doctrines of Creation, Incarnation, and Resurrection. Disembodiment is not an option for the Christian. Christ places His Body and His Blood at the heart of our faith in Him. Our faith comes to naught if the Incarnation was not accomplished in actual time and space – if God did not send His Son to us in a real body with real blood.”

Knippers work offers us a view of the embodied presence of the Savior, the very thing we gather to celebrate every year at Christmas.

I would encourage you to explore his website, or view the more detailed treatment of his work at the Theology Forum.

Logos: Art of the Incarnation Part 2

Chris Wiles, "Logos." Oil Pastel on Paper. 18x24" 2007

At considerable risk of self-promotion, today’s artist is none other than myself. The above piece of artwork is entitled Logos, done in oil pastel on paper.

The Greek word logos is most literally translated as “word,” as it appears in the prologue to John’s gospel. To the Jews it referred to God’s revelation, and to the Greeks it referred to the universal world-soul of philosophy. And in the context of John’s gospel it refers to the unique way that Christ took on flesh to dwell among mankind.

The vein/artery combination reflects Christ’s dual nature: he was both fully God and fully man. Like the vein and artery, these natures were inseparable, yet at the same time remaining uniquely distinct.

The artery branching off reflects Christ’s entrance into the world, illuminating the darkness with His light. The flecks of white and gold represent the Spirit’s unique involvement in His life.

The deep red background represents the humanity into which the Word became incarnate, and the sgraffito (scratching technique) used on the background is itself a hint of the brokenness and ugliness of the world into which Christ came. 

Finally, the composition is done from right to left, contrary to what western interpreters might expect. In the same way Christ entered the world through humble and unexpected means.

This work is the fifth in a larger series depicting God’s redemptive story from creation to re-creation. The series is reproduced in the form of a book entitled Dearly Beloved, and may be purchased through me directly by contacting me at WilesCJ@hotmail.com.

Kokoschka: Art of the Incarnation Part 1

This week we’ll be looking at a selection of the ways the incarnation of Christ has been depicted in the visual arts, an area too often neglected by Evangelical Christianity.

Our first painting is entitled Verkundigung or “Annunciation,” done in 1911 by artist Oskar Kokoschka.

The striking feature of this painting is found in its difference from other paintings depicting this event – the appearance of the angel to Mary to announce our Savior’s arrival.

Rather than the pristine scenes that we’ve grown accustomed to, Kokoschka’s expressive strokes are evocative of the terror of that scene. Commenting on his own work, Kokoschka writes:

“A painter doesn’t copy anything, he makes a picture. A picture is something that wasn’t there before, you have to make it . A picture has to derive from a phenomenon that amazed me, terrified me, opened my eyes wide, and I must keep them open to master the phenomenon. You ‘make yourself a picture’, and when you have it, it gives you a fright. The terror is in the picture just as it was in the phenomenon before.” (Oskar Kokoschka, quoted in Beyond Belief: Modern Art and the Religious Imagination, p. 46).

For Kokoschka, art is intended to communicate. And to that end the painting communicates the “terror of the phenomenon” of the annunciation, and reminds us that Christ was incarnated into the complex world of human emotion.