Come Thou Fount ~ Honest Faith

1. Come Thou Fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it,
Mount of God's unchanging love.

2. Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Hither by Thy help I'm come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood.

3. O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let that grace now like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

"Come Thou Fount," a hymn written by Robert Robinson in 1775, tells the honest struggle of a human being seeking to be in tune with God and his grace.

It is poetry and not necessarily cut and dried theology. And it's honest to the human condition. (Yes, I've now said that twice in just a few lines. It's important that you get this: The hymn is an honest expression of the human condition.)

I've read and heard various objections to this hymn over the past few years. Some people complain about the so-called archaic words, some about its supposed less than accurate theology.

ARCHAIC WORDS? For instance, the word "Ebenezer" in verse two bothers some people. Okay. That's a word that few of us know, but it comes from 1 Samuel (see 4:1, 2; 5:1; 7:7-12). It's clearly a place name. Ah, but its meaning is deep and rich. It means "stone of help." In 1 Samuel 7 the Israelites set up a memorial stone to commemorate God's victory for them over the Philistines. So though the word is "old" and few of us know it, its meaning was a treasure to Israel and it should be for us too. Instead of changing the word in verse two of "Come Thou Fount," maybe we should just let people know what it means. (Knowing its meaning might help us better understand the true nature of Ebenezer Scrooge as well.)

BAD THEOLOGY? As for the claims that the theology is "off," I'd like to say that maybe it is "off" according to some sort of "pure" systematic or biblical theology that might neglect the reality of human experience. I've heard two grievances on this front, both of which are in verse three. The first is the idea of "owing" God, or being a debtor, specifically to grace. "How can you owe God for grace--something freely given?" Good question. You can't pay back something that's freely given. You can try to pay it back, but you don't actually owe anything. And, in terms of grace, there is NO WAY you could ever pay it back.

Still, there is a non-monetary sense in which a person can be endebted to someone, a sense in which we KNOW we owe someone something. This doesn't have to be guilt-driven or guilt-ridden. It just is so. And, in reality, we DO owe God everything. He is Lord and he made us; we owe him allegience. Period. Oh, and he saved his people. As his people, owe him our rescued lives. So it's not necessarily a pay back issue, is it?

In the hymn, Robinson tries to express this. Of course he can't pay God back, but he knows he owes God in some sense, though probably not in the "I need to pay this back" sense. It's deeper than that.

Why does he ask that the grace be a fetter? This leads us to the second so-called theological problem, namely, the wandering issue. I've read on recent blogs that people don't like that Robinson says he's prone to wander. These writers and responders say, "Oh, no. I'm bound to Christ. I won't wander." Fine. God's people are bound to Christ. I don't deny it. But I won't be so foolish as to say that I'm not prone to wander. Who isn't? Who has so left behind his sinful inclinations that he or she never wanders?

None. None, save Christ.

So Robinson says, "bind my wandering heart to thee." It's a plain, very honest, very open... very davidic way of admitting the truth. But like David, he doesn't stop there. As is characteristic in so many of David's Psalms, he turns to God and asks for aid. "Here's my heart, O take and seal it/Seal it for thy courts above." How will his heart ever be fit for heaven, "tuned" to sing God's grace? Only if God steps in and tunes it for him, binds it to himself, seals it for heaven. 

So maybe Robinson didn't speak in "true" theology. He DID speak in true lived theology. But let's speak more to the point: Any theology that doesn't account for the realities of life and living under God in this world is not a very "true" theology.

You want "true" or accurate theology? Be sure to include the Psalms. Or turn to this hymn. Sing it. Plead to be tuned and taught by God's grace.

Can you relate to this? Does this ring true with your life experience?

ANOTHER ANGLE is Kindle Ready

Well, I didn't get much feedback over the weekend, so I'm reposting this. Pardon the self-aggrandizing push, but I am psyched that Another Angle, my experimental look through the "art" lens at the sacraments, is now Kindle ready.

Inside, you'll find two essays, around fifteen poems and a novella.

An odd mix, no? That's why I said it was an experiment. The general argument is that Christians need a theological component to their world view, yes, but we also need an art component. My chosen object of inquiry is the sacraments, namely baptism and the Lord's Supper.

So part 1 very briefly examines the theological implications of these sacraments.

Part 2 examines the nature of viewing reality through an artistic lens.

Parts 3 and 4 attempt to demonstrate a look at the sacraments through art, specifically written art, poetry and story. (This assumes, of course, that what I've written is "art." I don't claim to be one of the "masters," yet I am a man, made in God's image, and thus I have creative capacity. This capacity allows me to offer art as a means of making experience concrete.)

If you're interested, click on the cover below. It'll take you over to Amazon.com.

 

Book Realease! ~ Another Angle

This past weekend I released a new book called Another Angle: Sacrament and Life through Poetry and Story. As it's a bit of an unorthodox approach for a book, I have included most of the introduction below. If you're interested, click the photo of the cover or the link to the right.

~~~*~~~

I have a vision problem. I think I know and understand—that I “see”—so much about life and purpose and fellowship with God. But the truth is I see little and know and understand less. The funny thing is, “the eye is not satisfied with seeing” (Eccl 1:8) and I do, indeed, long to see more, yet I’ve settled for seeing little while fooling myself into believing I see much. I’m like those folks C. S. Lewis once described, the ones who have contented themselves with making mud pies in their ghetto slum because they just don’t understand or can’t imagine God’s offer of a trip to the seashore. Yes, sadly, I’m also much like Isaiah’s audience, the people who kept on hearing but didn’t understand, who kept on seeing but didn’t perceive (6:9).

What I need is new eyes. I need my way of seeing crafted—sharpened and then continually shaped and sculpted by the living God. Thankfully, this is what theology does, what the preaching of God’s word does, what the study and discussion of God’s word does. This is what the administering and partaking of the sacraments does. This is what fellowship does. And, I’ve discovered and would like to argue, this is also what art does. But I get ahead of myself.

My guess is, most of us don’t see as clearly nor as fully as we could and as we long to see. Thus, my goal here is to pursue new eyes, at least in part, and to bring you along with me. More specifically, I’d like for us to consider life more fully, but we need some lenses through which to make our observations. And, we need something specific to observe, something that encapsulates and demonstrates the essence of life, for trying to look at all of life without any focal point would be maddening.

Is there any such thing as this, any such focal point? I think there is. The sacraments encapsulate the essence of life for they embody for us union and communion—community—as God intended humankind to experience in this world. In other words, in the sacraments we are given a picture of life as God created it to be, a “world miniature,” as Peter Leithart says. It follows that the better we understand the sacraments, the better we will understand how to live in the union and communion which the sacraments picture. Period.

So I’d like to invite you to see the sacraments in a new light that we might see the world in a new light. Ah, but here’s the catch: I don’t want to approach this exploration solely by way of mere theory or ideology—by theology--alone. Theology is necessary, of course, but constructing an entire worldview based only on rigid theological systems and ideals, devoid of imagination, tends to beget a stale and stagnant view of life. At least this is what I have observed in myself and the church. (Yes, I’m guilty of trying to live by theological constructs alone.) Seeing only through a rigid theological construct limits our vision and hinders us from grasping life more completely, more wholly. Hence the vision problem I mentioned earlier.

Thus, the pursuit of this book is to peer into the sacraments—and thereby into life—through the lens of theology as well as through the lens of art and imagination. We can’t help having a theology, a worldview, a lens through which to interpret and understand reality. Everyone has a worldview, regardless of whether he or she knows it or not. We can’t turn it off, nor should we even attempt to do so. For Christians the Bible forms and informs our worldview, our perspective and understanding of God, man, and creation. At the same time, as creatures made in the image of God and thus possessing a creative capacity, we also need to acknowledge the importance of art and imagination. We ought not ignore or turn off this creative human capacity, for it informs our understanding of life as well. Both theology and art are essential means of grasping and articulating what is often beyond our reach and our words. Both are necessary if we are to see and understand the world more wholly.

Because my desire—for myself and for others—is a more complete grasp and understanding of life as God intended, in Another Angle I will first look briefly at the sacraments through the lens of theology. Then, with this theological foundation, I will add the lens of art, specifically poetry and story, and look at the sacraments and life through it. This will give us another, more complete, angle on life.    

Another Angle

I'm finishing up revisions on a book entitled Another Angle. Here's the general premise:

Many of us Christians have a vision problem. We struggle to see the world in ways other than through our strict, systematic theological lens. But what if there another lens? What if there's more to see? 

What if there's another angle?

My plan is to focus specifically on union and communion as experienced in the sacraments of baptism and the Lord's Supper AND on the day to day life to which these rites point. I will argue that ART is one of these other lenses--a lens that is often neglected by Christians.

But here's the catch: this book will explore this other angle by way of essay, poetry and story. The first essay will briefly explain what the sacraments are from a theological point of view (we do need a foundation, after all, and we can't turn off our theological worldview). The second essay explains and explores how art works and how we ought to at least add the art lens to our theological worldview lens--we ought to peer at life through both. Then the poems and the novella demonstrate the perspective we can gain on life through the creative arts themselves.

So here are my questions--and please comment if you have even an inkling of an opinion on the matter: Does such a project like this make sense? Is it something you'd be interested in exploring? Please let me know.

MLK ~ a drum major... and a brother in Christ

Well, it may be cliche, but I'm going to talk about Martin Luther King today. It is the day to remember him, after all. And, in keeping with pastor John Piper's confession and discussion about racism in his newest book, Bloodlines (available for free download--click the title), I'll make my own confession today.

No, mine is not a confession of racism, though I'm probably guilty of racism to some degree--either in the past or today. And, if race hasn't been the issue for me, then mere difference was and is. (Maybe I'm guilty of differrentism. Yeah. Differentism is when you alienate another simply because they're different in some way. [I'm not sure if differentism is real word, but I'm adding it to my vocabulary today.] It's probably worse than racism. Both have the effect of denying the hope of the gospel, which is union and communion with God in Christ.) 

Okay. So here is my confession: I didn't give Martin Luther King, Jr. a fair listening when I first read him. No, it wasn't a race matter, as I've already said. It was a differentism matter. He didn't sound biblical enough to me--or biblical as I understood the theology of the Bible. Because of this, I didn't hear what he had to say, despite how rhetorically powerful his "I have a Dream" speech and his "Letter from a Birmingham Jail."

See, I missed the point. Entirely. I missed King's point and I missed the point of the gospel. Maybe King did slide into a sort of Social Gospel mentality (or maybe he was accused of such). And I'm not sure if he assumed too much hope in the power of the government to remedy the divide of the races or not. Regardless, he did long for unity of people. And, I think at the heart of this unity, he had Christ in mind, the only person in whom true unity can be found.

I confess that I don't necessarily agree with everything Martin Luther King, Jr. said and did. But I also confess that he probably understood the heart of the gospel better than I did and perhaps better than I do today.

In his own words, King (somewhat hesitantly, I gather) agreed that he was a drum major. In a sermon at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, he said, "Yes, if you want to say that I was a drum major, say that I was a drum major for justice; say that I was a drum major for peace; I was a drum major for righteousness. And all of the other shallow things will not matter. I won't have any money to leave behind. I won't have the fine and luxurious things of life to leave behind. But I just want to leave a committed life behind. And that's all I want to say."

So today, I salute this drum major. I salute this brother in Christ. I salute his work for the bettering, not just of his race, but of all Americans, all people. I know that I am certainly better for his words and labors.

[Photo from bio.com]

Sacraments from several angles

I'm finally getting around to working on putting some books together. I have several manuscripts that need polishing and submitting, so I figured it was time to get around to it.

One project I'm working on is a bit unique. It's about the sacraments, but I'm looking at them from four angles: through the lenses of theology, philosophy (sort of--I'm trying to explain that we should look at them through art), poetry (my attempt at lyrical art), and story (my attempt at narrative art). My goal is to offer an exploration of the sacraments and the life they depict, but I want to do so from several perspectives in order to offer a more complete picture of them.

I'm not sure how this will go over, since placing such a book on the shelf in some sort of category will be difficult. 

Anyway, here are a couple of the poems that will be in the book.

I

Individual heads, hearts and bodies

Most miraculously made into one…

And yet, we live like we’ve been dissected,

Laid out around the table all undone.

The same unstained blood pulses through our veins,

Taken hold and organized organic.

Diverse body parts seamed—quick—together—

At table the wounds heal, for the water’s thick.

II

We gather around wood

Unique

And yet united

We take and eat the food—

Our need,

From us divided.

We taste, we see it’s good—

We feed:

Our body’s braided.

I'll let you know how the project progresses. If you get the chance, let me know what you think about such a book--one with a couple of essays, fifteen or so poems and a novella. Does something like this even work? Make sense?