A note to future parents: when people tell you that you won’t get any sleep with an infant in the house, believe them!
Who Said Arminians Don’t Believe in Providence?
Last fall, a few church members took the initiative to tidy up and reorganize our church’s library. The project has taken longer than expected (don’t they all?), but it’s yielded some fruit, including a book previously unknown to me, The Unity and Disunity of the Church by Geoffrey Bromiley. No matter how under-resourced or underutilized a church library, there’s always a few gems hidden within.
The topic or title of this book will interest some, as it did me. But so did the author. Bromiley is the late historian-theologian responsible for co-editing the most widely used English version of Karl Barth’s Church Dogmatics, which is among the two or three most discussed theological works of the twentieth century. Yes, that Bromiley. And here was a little dilapidated yellow book bearing his name.
What’s providential about this is that unity is the theme of my preaching this month. And this little book of unity landed in my study for closer review at the end of 2021. It’s filled with thoughts worth chewing on for a bit:
“The church may have a consciousness of its unity. But it cannot ignore the stubborn fact of its disunity. And in the face of this fact its confession of unity can only seem to be a hollow mochery [sic] to itself and especially to the world.”
Bromiley’s fear that division in the church promotes hollow mockery isn’t original to him. Jesus himself prayed for the integrity of the church’s witness by praying for unity. In John 17:21 (ESV), he prays, “that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”
Francis Schaeffer summarizes the thrust of Jesus’ prayer in The Mark of the Christian:
“Love, and the unity it attests to—is the mark Christ gave Christians to wear before the world. Only with this mark may the world know that Christians are indeed Christians and that Jesus was sent by the Father.”
I’ve noticed in recent years that some Baptist churches have begun reciting the Nicene Creed in services. In principle, this is probably helpful. Now I would advise fellow Baptist preachers and liturgists to ensure they clearly define the “one, holy, catholic and apostolic church” part! But notice something else. Two of these terms (arguably three) are associated directly or indirectly to the idea of church unity, to the notion that we’re part of something, together. So whether it’s Jesus’ prayer, or the creeds we publicly confess, we have words to live up to.
Unity moves from simply being an emotional sentiment to an evangelistic strategy. It’s not primarily a thing we notionally learn about in a seminar course on the church, but a concrete reality we inhabit and pursue simultaneously for the sake of Christian witness.
One more excerpt from Bromiley:
“From the very earliest days, and all through Christian history, there has been the sense that something dreadful and unnatural takes place when professing brethren are either expelled from the church or feel constrained to withdraw for various solid or less solid reasons.”
The kind of church discipline, which rises to the level of excommunication or removal from membership (what Bromiley means by “expelled”), is a sober thing. It’s biblically necessary sometimes, but words like “dreadful” and “unnatural” are both poignant and appropriate. We should feel the sense of dread that things have come to a point we had hoped desperately to avoid. We should see this as “not the natural course” for a growing, healthy Christian life.
Likewise, in this post-pandemic environment, people who withdraw for “less solid reasons” leave the remaining members feeling that something dreadful has happened. It’s not choosing Aldi over Walmart, or the suburbs over the countryside. It’s a disunion with other Christians. Their movement away from the body should cause the body to take note, rededicate itself to unity, and confront the lingering threats to its unity.
Throughout my educational experiences, God has always pointed me to the right books at just the right time. Reading broadly tends to foster that, but thank God for periodic cleaning in the library!
Climbing the Dune
Dune was one of the biggest films of 2021. While it wasn’t as big a box office hit as others, it did fairly well for a sci-fi film (to the tune of $400 million). My wife and I saw it, and while it wasn’t the typical date-night choice, it was as visually stunning as any film I’ve ever seen. After watching and enjoying it, I felt that familiar lump of regret in my stomach. Knowing full-well that the film was adapted from Frank Herbert’s 1965 novel, I had decided earlier that I didn’t think it would be the kind of book I’d want to wade through. Yet a positive cinematic experience always has the same effect on me: I want to read the book! I wish I’d read it first!
Elsewhere I’ve written about why books are almost always better than their film adaptations. The reasons are many, but let’s narrow them to one: imagination.
Denis Villeneuve directed the film and co-authored the screenplay. He does an admirable job (I loved his work on Arrival), but we’re enjoying his imagination in this film. Technically, we’re getting his imaginative take on Frank Herbert’s imagination. There’s a place for that. Every time we view a painting, hear a song, or read a poem, we’re entering someone else’s imaginative world. Or, we’re invited to participate in an imaginative world. I put it this way because certain types of art elicit different kinds of engagement.
When I read your novel, you are supplying my imagination with the furniture to sit in. However, I get to pick the fabric. To switch metaphors, as the author constructs a world, I build alongside him. He needs my imagination to participate in the process for it to be worth my coming along for the journey.
So recently, I’ve been reading Dune. It’s not the same experience it would have been had I read it prior to seeing the film. Yet it’s world-building at a scale I’ve almost never encountered, though Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings rival it. Mind you, it’s not the most enjoyable literary world I’ve ever encountered. Still, it’s a fascinating climb.
Perhaps in our churches we need to be finding ways to cultivate creativity, imagination, and seeing with new eyes. Maybe sermon illustrations need to be more vivid. Maybe we need to give music ministers a little more liberty in how they construct the Christmas cantata. Perhaps we even need to encourage more coloring outside the lines in Children’s Church. We might be surprised at how beauty and intrigue find us in ten thousand places.
Currently Reading:
A Broken Hallelujah: Rock and Roll, Redemption, and the Life of Leonard Cohen (Liel Leibovitz)
Belichick and Brady: Two Men, the Patriots, and How They Revolutionized Football (Michael Holley)
The Liberal Invasion of Red State America (Kristin Tate)
I’d love to hear from some of you who have seen and/or read Dune. Shoot me an email (jacksonwatts@hotmail.com) and let me know your thoughts!