Fine Prints: July, 2006

All That God Has in Mind for Us July 1

Good Product, Bad Packaging  July 8 

Early Influences: A Personal Tribute to Mabel Frederick  July 15  

The Cringe--1 July 22

The Cringe--2 July 29    

All That God Has in Mind for Us

Last week I said that "one of the things I like about using more than one translation of the Bible is that the varied nuances of wording often open up totally new avenues of thought." This is especially true when it comes to paraphrases.

In a paraphrase, writers indulge themselves. They hit the high points only–and they do it with flair. They don’t feel compelled to include every element of the original text. Rather, they try to convey the general thought in a manner that’s compelling and easily grasped by the reader.

As source material for deep theological study, paraphrases are unreliable–because they’re too interpretative. But for devotional reading, they’re superb–precisely because they’re so interpretive. From my perspective, few paraphrased passages are as powerful Romans 5:1, 2 (as presented in the 1967 version of The Living New Testament).

The text reads: "So now, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith in His promises, we can have real peace with Him because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us. For because of our faith, He has brought us into this place of highest privilege where we now stand, and we can confidently and joyfully look forward to actually becoming all that God has had in mind for us to be."

Wow!

Is that potent or what?

Note the words again. "Real peace." "Place of highest privilege." "Confidently and joyfully look forward." "Becoming all that God has had in mind for us to be."

Unfortunately, Seventh-day Adventists have had major trouble coming to grips with the concept of grace. For far too long discussions of grace and faith have evoked a "yes . . . but" response. Try as we might, we can’t seem to lay down our good-behavior checklists and just bask in the wondrous warmth of God’s forgiveness. We feel we must "do" something to win God’s favor. Salvation can’t truly be a gift–works have to be involved somehow–we seem to believe.

Sadly, too many of us are trapped in a no-man’s land: We hate hearing about all the good things we’re supposed to be doing–because they’ve too often been presented as goals that must be achieved if we’re to win salvation.

If only the reality of God’s grace would become the energizing force in our lives. If only we understood that what God asks is merely that we learn to live–in the here and now–the best life possible. And then we’ll just go on living it forever!

In reality, the salvation issue should be settled quickly and decisively. I can’t atone for my sins. Categorically. Anything I try to do to convince God of my own goodness is like putting on "filthy rags" (Isaiah 64:6). All I can do is humbly and gratefully accept the unmerited gift He offers me, absolutely certain that He will deliver on everything He has promised.

With the matter of salvation settled, we can then focus on "actually becoming all that God has had in mind for us to be." No longer as part of a futile attempt to convince God that He should save us. Rather, as an act of gratitude for the salvation He has already given so freely.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Good Product, Bad Packaging

Story One. While in Australia recently, Leonie and I stayed one night in a lovely bed and breakfast. The owner, a gracious host and a good cook, was no slouch—to use an Australianism—when it came to astute observations about life.

Like a high percentage of Australians, he wasn’t affiliated with any religious organization. His spiritual quest was of a personal nature. As a child, he went to mass with his mother. And he attended a Catholic school. But his memories of Catholicism weren’t altogether positive.

"When I was in school," he said, "I had enough religion crammed down my throat to last several lifetimes. One nun held down my lower jaw, another nun held up my upper jaw, and a third nun shoveled in religion." He obviously spoke in hyperbole, but his message was clear.

"Years later when a priest came around and tried to talk me into sending my kids to the Catholic school," he continued, "I told him there was no way in the world that I would subject them to what I’d gone through."

Then he grew quiet. "But now I wonder if I made the right decision. I mean, while I hated the way religion was force-fed, I did learn a lot of valuable life lessons. Have I robbed my children of something important?"

Story Two. While we were buying stamps from a quaint little post office in a quaint little Australian village, the postmaster asked what type of work I do.

Now that’s always a frightening question—because when I say I’m a preacher, I usually get one of three responses: (1) dead silence and a look of fear—like I’d expect if I loudly announced that I have leprosy; (2) a request to explain some huge life conundrum; (3) a litany of horror stories about something or someone religious.

The postmaster chose the litany approach.

"My sister is one of those born-again Christians," he said, shaking his head in wonder. "She can’t so much as say Hello without some comment about how great God is. She’s always going on about something religious. I mean, give me a break. Believe what you want, but do the rest of us the favor of keeping it to yourself.

"But she’s definitely a good person. When I had surgery, she came and looked after everything for me for an entire week."

Story Three. For Leonie, one of the pleasures of our recent trip was reconnecting with childhood friends (she left Australia when she was 13). The conversation with one such—a committed church member—included family worship practices during childhood.

"I just hated getting ready for Sabbath," the friend said. "There was so much pressure to get everything done before sunset. By the time we sat down for family worship, we felt like anything but worship. To this day, participating in family worship brings back strong negative feelings.

"I like the idea of family worship. But how do I ensure that my children don’t have the same negative response that I did—and still do?"

A good question, actually. Really important.

Unfortunately, when it comes to things spiritual, we too often have presented what should be a really great product in a really bad package.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Early Influences: A Personal Tribute to Mabel Frederick

I first met Mabel Frederick about 1960. My father was doing carpentry work on the Fredericks’ farmhouse north of Sturgeon, Missouri. On that visit I also met "Freddy," who had just come to live with his grandparents. Fred and I quickly became best friends. And "Mrs. Frederick," as I always called her, soon became a sort of surrogate mother.

The Fredericks’ home, a beautiful old house down a long tree-lined lane, was off the beaten track. But Mrs. Frederick was determined that their isolation wouldn’t keep Fred from having friends. So at least once a week a friend was invited to come for a visit, usually spending the night. And what a treat it was.

Mrs. Frederick was a wonderful cook, and she always tried to prepare the things kids like. (Her chocolate cakes ruined me for life—because no one else has ever come up to her high standard!) She always had worship and a prayer with us in the evening. And when bedtime came, all visiting boys would get a goodnight kiss from her just like Fred did. We thought it was an honor—though we would never have admitted it.

One summer Fred went to California. While he was away, Mr. Frederick, a man with a gruff exterior but a softer heart than met the eye, drove over to our house. (We lived about 10 miles away.) "I have to take a business trip for a couple of weeks," he said to my mother. "Fred’s away, and I don’t want to leave Mabel alone. So I wondered if Jimmie or one of your girls could stay with her."

I had my clothes packed and in Mr. Frederick’s car before my sisters even had a chance to think about the offer. I don’t know that my presence helped Mrs. Frederick in any way—although I did try to assist with chores around the farm. But I can assure you that never in my life have I received better care. The meals were wonderful. We watched TV together every night (my family didn’t have a TV). She treated me like royalty. And I envied Fred for having such a wonderful grandmother.

Although in her late fifties and having already raised four children when Fred came to live with them, she borrowed energy from somewhere to ensure that he didn’t miss out socially. She would sit up with him and his friends watching TV in the evening. We often played Password or Monopoly. She taught us to play Rook. She took us to extracurricular activities at the church and the school. And we all loved her.

The question is often asked, "Do you remember where you were when you heard that President Kennedy had been shot?" I certainly do. We were about five minutes from being dismissed from school—when the door burst open and Mrs. Frederick told us the news, which she’d heard while listening to her car radio.

It left an indelible impression.

But that was only one of many indelible impressions she made. Mabel Frederick was one of God’s great gifts to this world. She was an extraordinary woman. Just ask any of those whose life she touched during her 102 years of making this world a better place.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

The Cringe--1

Have you ever experienced "the cringe"? You know, that feeling you get when someone says something totally inappropriate? Or something totally jarring because it’s so at cross purposes with everything you believe? It happened to me recently when I was reading Time magazine.

The cringe-inducing statement was: "I do not know what we did. But we must have sinned for God to be angry like this." Those words came from a survivor of the recent earthquake that struck Indonesia, killing some five thousand, injuring many more, flattening whole villages and leaving hundreds of thousands homeless.

Now don’t get me wrong, such statements don’t come as a surprise. Unfortunately, huge numbers of people subscribe to the thinking the woman expressed. But sheer numbers and frequent repetition don’t make such thinking any more palatable or any more correct. I find it appalling for God to be portrayed as the Great Heavenly Disciplinarian who uses randomly administered lethal force to spank humans into line.

When I was a youngster, I received my fair share of spankings. (Actually, "fair share" is only a cliché—I probably deserved far more!) My father was a firm believer in the spare-the-rod-and-spoil-the-child school of discipline. And while I might disagree with him about the philosophy in general, or about its propriety in any given situation, never did I have any question about why I was being spanked.

Never was I standing around minding my own business, only to have my father appear on the scene and whale into me for no apparent reason. The nature of my infraction and my inescapable guilt was always clearly established. Then the discipline was administered.

Similarly, my father never whipped every child in sight just because I had done something he didn’t like. And I certainly wouldn’t have respected him had he done so. But humans seem quite comfortable attributing such behavior to God.

I find it amazing that we can so casually lay at God’s door behavior that would be considered deplorable were it to be done by any human being. More amazing still, when we attribute such behavior to God, we portray it as a virtue! Too many of us never stop to think about the impact on others when we depict God in such a manner.

In a recent interview with Time, columnist/humorist Art Buchwald said: "Yes, I believe there is a God, but he’s not the one all the religions claim. . . . There’s a God out there, but not the one that causes all the trouble in the world."

The famed atheist philosopher Robert Ingersoll would have related well to Buchwald’s comments. Ingersoll responded to the God-is-spanking-us school of thought with the statement: "In nature there is neither reward nor punishment; there is consequence."

Sin has brought changes into our world. Bad things happen. People get hurt. Gentle rain falls on both the just and the unjust—and so does hail. I believe that God weeps with us as He waits for the time when He can once and for all eradicate pain.

How ironic that the universe’s greatest hater of human suffering should so routinely be portrayed as its source.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

The Cringe--2 

Last week I wrote about "the cringe"—that "feeling you get when someone says something totally inappropriate. Or something totally jarring because it’s so at cross purposes with everything you believe." I often get that feeling when I read descriptions of why Jesus died on the cross. But first a little background.

I would argue that the single most important fact of the universe with which we need to come to grips is the character of God. If we have the wrong picture of God, we’re going to have the wrong picture of what humanity should be. Not only were we created in God’s image, but we grow into the image of the God we perceive. So how we view God has enormous consequences.

That’s why I’m uncomfortable with the dualistic, angry-God/loving-God depictions about the respective character of God the Father and His Son Jesus. Needless to say, when I read in an Easter presentation that Jesus "made peace on behalf of humanity with an angry God," I felt "the cringe." Maybe even some anger. "You have no right to talk about my loving heavenly Father that way," I wanted to scream.

So I’m doing it now.

I have no question that God hates sin. He hates the state of alienation that leads to bad behavior. He hates the bad behavior itself. He hates the appalling results that spring from the bad behavior. Indeed, God must be angry about all that has happened in the course of the great controversy that’s raging between good and evil. But God loves humans. He loves those who are both affected and infected by sin. And that’s all of us.

God doesn’t need to be convinced to love us or accept us. The father of the prodigal son was ready and waiting. It was the son who needed convincing. It was when he came to is senses that the love of the father could actually make a difference in his life. Before then, all the love in the world was useless.

So why did Jesus come to this earth? Was it to make peace on behalf of humanity with an angry God? Or was it to make peace on behalf of a loving God with a rebellious and angry humanity? The question has huge implications about the character of God.

The Bible employs a long list of metaphors to give us confidence and certainty. Jesus is the Good Shepherd, solicitously caring for His sheep. Jesus is the faithful relative who pays an enormous debt on our behalf so we can have a new start. Jesus is the mother hen who protects her chicks. Jesus is the one who bears our punishment so we can go free. Jesus is all this and much more.

But when we so slavishly apply a metaphor that we portray an angry God who has to be appeased—who demands so much punishment for so much infraction—I think we’ve missed the clear intent of Scripture. Sin separates us from God and from each other. God’s love unites us with Him and with each other. It’s our only hope.

Jesus came to convince us to accept God—not to convince God to accept us.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor