Luke 4:14-21 and 2 Corinthians 3:17-18
Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
I was recently asked by a church member, "What is the goal of the Christian life?" This is an enormous question, of course. I could have tried to summarize the teaching of the Church over the ages and talk in generalities. Instead, I decided to speak from the heart. This is my answer, offered in the hope that it might resonate with the stirrings of your heart, and be helpful in your journey.
Around the time of my
freshman year in college I found myself in an existential crisis. I was depressed, confused, anxious,
troubled. I found myself having a lot of
questions: about myself, my family, my community, my church, my faith, my life,
my place in the wider world. I was in a
season of discernment as I tried to figure out the meaning and purpose of my
life. I wasn’t conscious of it then, but
I was essentially trying to answer the question the poet Mary Oliver asks in
her poem “The Summer Day. “Tell me,” she asks, “what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
While all of this was happening, I
taught the senior high Sunday School class at my home church, the First Presbyterian Church in North Arlington, NJ. It was up to me to choose the
curriculum. Around that time, I stumbled
upon a book sitting on the shelves in the Christian educator’s office with a
curious title, The Worry and Wonder of
Being Human.[1]
It was written by pastor-theologian Albert Curry Winn, former president of
Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminar.
The discovery of this book was a gift to me. I devoured the opening chapters of the
text. Winn quoted the most fascinating
thinkers, writers, poets who led me deeper into the question of what it means
to be human and what it means to live the Christian life. It was built around Psalm 8 (one of my
favorite psalms): “O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory above the heavens…. When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? Yet
you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with
glory and honor” (Ps. 8:1, 3-5). The
worry and the wonder of being human is experienced in the tension of this
paradox.
Before the immensity of the heavens, the philosopher and mathematician Blaise
Pascal (1623-1662) encountered a similar kind of existential shock. “When I
consider the short duration of my life,” he said, “swallowed up in an eternity
before and after, the little space I fill engulfed in the infinite immensity of
spaces whereof I know nothing, and which know nothing of me, I am terrified.
The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me.”[2]
Winn introduced me to the
Christian existentialism of Soren Kierkegaard (1813-1855)—I came to love the
word existential (still do). It gave
expression to my own struggle and questions around what does it mean to exist: what
is the meaning of my existence? Who am I? What is this world? Why am I here? Who lured me into this life? Why was I not
consulted? Now that I’m here, what do I do? What is this world? What does it mean to be human, alive, now, at
this time, to be given this life? As my
mentor James Loder (1931-2001) would often ask, “What is a life and what is it
for?”[3]
These soulful questions, together, are like a strong, steady current flowing
through the river of my life from an early age. They shaped my studies at Rutgers College, and
later at Princeton Seminary, as I delved into the connection between psychology
and theology. As I look back now, they
informed my doctoral work, and are the motivations behind my current interest
in Jungian psychology. These questions
have shaped my understanding of what it means to be a Christian, what is the
goal of the Christian life. They have
informed my ministry and my preaching. To
put it a different way, I am a Christian—and remain a Christian—because the gospel addresses, speaks
to, and helps me to answer these ultimate questions.
The goal of the Christian life is,
for me, directly related to the goal of human life. The goal of human life is
that we live out a meaningful, fulfilling, generous life. As I’ve shared many times over the years, there
are two Greek words that translate into the English word “life.” There’s bios,
as in biology. This is ordinary life,
life functioning at the lowest level.
And there’s zoe, which is
fulfilled life, meaningful life, intense life.
When Jesus said he came that we might have life and have it in all its
fullness (John 10:10), he’s talking about zoe. When Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth,
the life,” the Greek is zoe (John
14:6). The goal of the Christian life is that we enter
more deeply and profoundly into the zoe-giving life of Christ. In other words, the goal of the Christian
life is that we come alive, fully alive, that we share in Christ’s life who
calls us to life—to resurrection.
Based upon my experience and my
reading of scripture, and in light of the transforming power that the gospel
has had on my life, this is how I would respond to the question. The Bible doesn’t speak to this question with
one voice. Theologians across the ages
have offered a variety of responses to this question. There are many ways to answer it. One other succinct answer might be: grace and
gratitude. In response to God’s grace,
we willingly, joyfully offer gratitude through praise and service, through
worship and work in the world. When the Westminster Divines met in 1648 to
write the Westminster Shorter Catechism, they came up with a good summary
statement. “What is the chief end of man?" the Catechism asks us. And the answer, “To glorify God and enjoy God forever.”[4]
In this light, there are some understandings of the Christian life that
I don’t espouse. First, Christian life
is about more than being nice or good in the eyes of society. Jesus was more than a teacher of morality. Being a Christian is not merely a synonym for
being a good person. I grow impatient when I see Christianity reduced to
ethics, when the Christian life is reduced to a moral code, moralisms, do-gooderism
engaging in works of charity. There is a
moral, ethical dimension to the Christian life, to be sure. But you don’t have to be Christian to do good
things. I know plenty of atheists who are
quite good at doing good work, I would even say, doing God’s work. The Christian
life should be ethical—we live out a biblical ethnic, which often means being
at odds with the prevailing moral views of society.
Second, I don’t think the Christian life is about saving souls for
heaven. It’s not our job to save
anyone. That’s God’s job. We are called to bear witness to the truth of
the gospel with our lives. We are called
to tell people about Jesus. To follow
where Jesus leads us. And while I
believe in life everlasting, the Christian life shouldn’t obsess about whether
or not one is going to heaven. Until we
get there, it’s this life that matters. That it might be “on earth as it is in
heaven” (Matthew 6:10).
And, third, I don’t think the Christian life should be spent fighting
over theological ideas or being anxious about getting our beliefs right or
worrying about doubt. Yes, theology
matters. Good theology is a healing balm
for the church and for our lives and the world. But the call to follow Jesus is
more than ideas or defending ideas or beliefs against heresy. Theology should help us participate more fully
in the zoe-giving life of Christ.
Let’s return to zoe, to
life. The early theologian Irenaeus
(130-202) wrote, “The glory of God is each and every one of us fully
alive.” This sentence, this theological
claim has meant a lot to me for many years now.
It’s one of the best summaries, I think, of the Christian life. In Christ, God’s glory is revealed through a
fully human life. This means for the one in Christ, the more we come alive—in
all its dimensions, mind, body, soul—when a human life is living abundantly, generatively
with meaning, purpose, with grace, the glory of God shines through us. This is the mystery of the Incarnation.
Through Jesus’ humanity we see God’s glory.
And if we are “in Christ,” if we share in Christ’s humanity, if we are
participating in his life, then, it could be said, we are on the way to becoming
more human. Theologically-speaking,
Jesus was fully human. By God’s grace,
we’re on the way to becoming fully human.[5] The Christian life is essentially
humanization. And evil, therefore, can be understood as everything that hampers
or hinders human flourishing, everything that dehumanizes. Humanization is the work of the Holy Spirit,
whose task it is to make sure nothing hinders and or hampers the full
flourishing of God’s children. Theologians also call this sanctification.
For me, this is beautifully illustrated with Jesus reading from the
Isaiah scroll in the synagogue in Nazareth.
This scene marks the beginning of Jesus’ ministry in Luke’s Gospel. This is extremely significant and sets the
tone for the rest of the Gospel. The
Spirit of the Lord, Jesus tells us, is now at work upon him, upon Jesus,
“because he has anointed me to bring news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the
captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free,”
to proclaim the year of God’s Jubilee.
Release. Recovery. Liberty or redemption. Release, recovery, redemption of human
beings who are held captive and oppressed. That’s
what the Spirit is doing through Jesus. That’s what Jesus came to do. That’s what the Spirit is still doing through
us. This is what the Christian life
should be about and is about when the Spirit is at work in us. It’s about coming alive and helping others
come alive. Releasing the captives,
entering into human suffering, sharing in it, and working to alleviate
suffering, offering compassion, offering a new future, offering hope, offering
Jubilee. This means we engage the powers that be, speak truth in love to the powers,
the powers that oppress God’s children, that separate God’s children from their
parents, the powers that dehumanize God’s children, keeping them stuck in
grinding poverty. The Spirit seeks the
transformation of the world, the redemption, the healing of the powers that
oppress and harm and sicken God’s children.
This vision was beautifully captured and embodied by Fred Rogers. He was all about the saving of children. In caring for the child, he was also caring
for the inner-child who always remains a part of us. As a Presbyterian minister,
this was his ministry. The recent
release of the movie Won’t You Be My
Neighbor? gives witness to the power of Rogers’ ministry. Writing in The New York Times this past week, David Brooks commented on the number of adults coming out of the theatre in tears. People are being moved to tears by the power
of goodness. Hearts are being touched
and transformed.
And the Spirit seeks the ongoing transformation of the human heart. This, too, is how we become fully human. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians beautifully
captures this when he says, “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit
of the Lord, there is freedom. And all
of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in
a mirror, are being transformed from one degree of glory to another; for this
comes from the Lord, the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:17-18). This is a sublime text. It shows us that the follower of Christ
essentially participates in the mystery of God.
When we encounter the Spirit, most profoundly through the intimacy of prayer, we participate in the liberty of God, the God who offers freedom and
liberty, who wants us to thrive and come to life. In the intimacy of that relationship we are
free to look into the eyes of Christ, in whose eyes we see
reflected back to us a clearer image of who we really are. Our false faces and personas—the masks we
hide behind, the false self we would rather preserve than live from an authentic,
true self, the self-images distorted by sin and shame—are unveiled in the
presence of the One who is freedom. They are slowly, bit by bit over time,
pulled away by his graceful gaze. “The Spirit…peel[s] off the layers of
illusion and defensiveness, so we can see things as they really are.”[6] Face-to-face with the Lord the Spirit, the
Spirit of freedom, the masks and false personas melt away, and we are changed—our
faces, our self-images are transfigured. We discover our true face and are
finally prepared to receive the gaze of the One who will never turn away from
us, the face that won’t go away, who loves us through and through, who has
loved us from the beginning of time.
From one degree of glory to another, over time. It’s through this
face-to-face encounter we become human.
As we become more human, more authentically ourselves, as Jesus was
authentically himself, our lives glorify God, we share in God’s glory, and people
may even see reflected in us something of God’s glory. The Spirit seeks our transformation.
The Spirit is at work in us. The
Spirit is at work in the world. What is
the goal of the Christian life? Transformation. The Spirit seeks transformation. The healing of the human heart, our own
personal growth and development as Christians has a direct bearing upon the
reformation and transformation of the world. When we are changed, the world is
changed. Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945) said, “To be a Christian does not mean to be religious in a
particular way…but to be a human being—not a type of human, but the human
Christ creates in us. It is not the religious act that makes the Christian, but
participation in the sufferings of God in the secular world.” [7] As Christians, we get to
join in the work of the Spirit, the same Spirit at work in Jesus, when we, like
Jesus, share in the suffering of God in the world, and then work to bring
release to the captives, when we offer liberty, when we help people come alive
and thrive as human beings.
I pulled out my copy of The Worry
and Wonder of Being Human this week.
I haven’t looked at it in a long time.
I was struck by my notes and comments and markings. These sentences, which I had underlined, leapt
off the page at me: “The Christian is meant to be lived, not just discussed.” Winn says, “The Christian life man or woman is
a pilgrim…en route, in transit, on
the road.” We are “on the way from what [we]
have been to what [we] will be.” “For
the Christian, the worry of being human is very small compared with the wonder
of it…. The wonder of our destiny
beckons us on. What shall we be when God finishes what [God] has begun in
us? It exceeds all our dreaming and
imagining.”[8] What shall we be when God finished what God
has begun in us? What shall we be?
[1] Albert Curry
Winn, The Worry and Wonder of Being Human
(Richmond: John Knox Press, 1966).
[2] Blaise Pascal, Pensées (“Thoughts”)
from 1669. Cited in William Barrett, Death of the Soul: From
Descartes to the Computer (New York: Anchor/Doubleday, 1986),
8.
[3] The core theological question posed by James E.
Loder, The Logic of the Spirit: Human Development in Theological
Perspective (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1998).
[4] Question 1 and Answer, Westminster Shorter
Catechism (1648), Book of Confessions, Presbyterian Church
(U.S.A.).
[5] This insight
was inspired by Colin E. Gunton in Christ
and Creation (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1992).
[6] Rowan
Williams, Being Disciples: Essentials of
the Christian Life (Eerdmans, 2016), 56.
[7] Dietrich
Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from
Prison, ed. Eberhard Bethge (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1971), 361.
[8] Winn, 5, 26,
31.
