3 Weeks in Hell, with Kyle – Part 2

Swans, Jail, and Canoe-bogganing:  What about <insert evil dictator here>?

Imagine this.

You die and get to heaven.  You smile at Saint Peter on the way in, high five St. Francis, and go exploring.  The streets of gold lead to a park, and in the middle of the park there is a duck pond.  You have always loved to feed the ducks, so you head down to the water.  This place is awesome!

When you get close, you notice someone painting the pond.  An easel is set up.  You see the back of a man, painting a swan with his water colours.   He’s really good at it.

As you approach the man, you break the silent moment with the words, “Nice swan.”

“Thanks.”  And then the man turns around, and all you can see is a little moustache under his nose.

How do you feel?

Betrayed?

“How could God let THAT person in?!?”

Anger?

“No!  That guy can’t be here.  He’s evil!”

Frustrated?

“How can both him and I, who lived our lives so differently, both end up here?  It’s not fair.”

Good questions, right?

(Adapted from John Watson’s post, Hitler in Heaven? at http://www.redletterchristians.com)

I’m not saying that Hitler is in heaven, but I think that this illustration is a great test for our understanding of our own theology.

We’ll come back to the topic of evil dictators in a bit.

Since last week’s first sermon on hell, I have had some really great feedback.  One of my favourite texts was that this topic was so refreshing.  Talking about hell is refreshing.  Awesome.

In our Extending the Learning conversation, some of you were sharing stories of things you’ve heard that lead to hell.  Last week I named Harry Potter and working on Sundays as things people have heard lead to hell.  You shared hearing that lipstick, make-up, and motorcycles are also things that lead to hell.  One of you shared that when you were younger, you were told that going to Grace Mennonite church leads to hell.  Wow.

And as we were laughing at all this, one of you shared something along these lines:  We’re able to laugh at the absurdity of all this now, but recently, many people in our community felt the need to tell other people in the community that they were in danger of hell because they didn’t oppose a certain anti-bullying legislation or they don’t hold a correct doctrine about sexual orientation.

Whoa.  This went from absurd to serious, from past to present very, from theoretical to practical very quickly, didn’t it?

Do you see what’s going in all these stories?  It’s Christians telling other Christians that they are going to hell.  And conveniently, the ones going to hell are always “them”.   The ones who disagree with me, the ones who hold different beliefs, the ones who act differently than me, and so thus I am going to heaven and they are at risk of going to hell.

Basically, what’s going on here is that it’s the people who are most sure they are going to heaven are the quickest to tell people not like them that they are going to hell.   It’s the people most sure they are going to heaven who are the quickest to tell people not like them that they are going to hell.

Convenient, isn’t it?

And also, not very humble.

Here’s a question:  If you are heaven, and you are in the presence of God, and all your needs are met and you are fully content, does it matter who else is there with you?

“But, there can’t be evil in heaven!”

Who said anything about evil in heaven?  I said people.  Not evil.

It’s called Scapegoat Theory.  Every community, especially religious ones, develop myths that tell the story of how a community gets rid of evil in its midst.  A scapegoat takes the blame for evil, separating the sheep (us) from the goats (them).  It can be one person (story about someone who said, “The devil must be mad that my politician won.”), or it can be an entire community, such as the Jews under Hitler.  And in an effort to get rid of evil, we are usually allowed to do violence to the scapegoat.  Because they’re guilty of evil, right? (even if they’re not).  (Baker 65)

To whom do we project evil onto?  People who watch Harry Potter?  People who work on Sundays?  People who don’t believe correct doctrines about sexual orientation?  People who don’t believe correct doctrines about hell?

Are we guilty of scapegoat theory, where we project evil onto outsiders, and assume that hell is what they deserve, because they’re evil, and we deserve heaven, because we’re not?

Picture a person who has committed a lot of evil in the world.  Hitler, bin Laden, Stalin, Mugabe, you’re next door neighbour, Assad, Amin, Gaddafi… (On a quick aside, do you notice that they’re all men?  Maybe we should ban men from being leaders for 100 years or so, until they learn that being a leader means servant-hood, but that’s a digress.)

I’d encourage you to take you that image of evil in our world, and the worst perpetrators of it.  Imagine you have this holy God who hates evil and suffering, and they meet.  Holiness meets sin.  What happens?

Justice.

Justice happens.

When we think about justice, most of us think of judges and lawyers and criminals.  Most of us think about retributive justice.  Most of us think about “you do the crime, you do the time.”  It’s an eye for an eye, but thankfully we’ve gone away from violence towards offenders, and replaced it with fines and jail time.  We understand this.  You roll through a stop sign, you get a ticket.  You don’t pay your parking tickets, you risk getting towed.  You assault someone, you go to jail.  You sell drugs to children, you go to jail.  We hear phrases like “tough on crime,” and “mandatory minimum sentences”  all the time.

Most of this isn’t bad.  Public safety is important.  Law abiding citizens are a good thing.  Dangerous people not being given unfettered access to victims is fine by me.

Overall, we live in a system of retributive justice.  Usually, you get what’s coming to you.

This isn’t that dissimilar to some of the language we use about hell.  You had a choice on what to believe, on how to act… you made that choice, and now you live with the consequences, be it heaven or hell.  Hell is God’s punishment for evil.

Well, here’s another question for you.  Is retributive justice biblical?  And from Genesis to Revelation, from beginning to end, is biblical justice static?  Or is it moving in a direction?  Where’s it moving us to? Should we still be living in an “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth” kind of world?

Before the Bible was written, it was “a life for an eye.”   There were no limits on revenge.  Then along comes the Old Testament and it says “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” (Exodus 21:23-25).  This was actually placing a limit on revenge, saying the punishment has to match the crime.   And then along comes Jesus, who says:

38 “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’[h] 39 But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also (Matthew 5:38-39).

Sharon Baker, in her great book Razing Hell, summarizes that biblical justice isn’t meant to be retributive, but rather restorative.

Restorative justice.  Where the offender and the offended work at reconciling their relationship.

“Our typical image of God as loving on the one hand and retributive on the other puts justice and love in tension as opposites.  We have a God with a split personality.  In one instance, God demands retribution for sin; in the next, we see God showing mercy and forgiving sin.  But when we read and interpret the Bible from the perspective of through our Jesus lens, we see that the standards of justice are driven by a desire for restoration, relationship, and harmony with God and others.  In other words, divine reconciling justice is love in action that seeks to make things right, to reconcile with God and with others.” (Baker 90)

The point of justice no longer becomes punishment, but the point becomes reconciliation.

If we look at sin and evil and through the lens of restorative justice, things change a bit.

Let’s take a look at the idea of the Day of Judgment.  And fire.

Often, the idea of judgement has been connected to fire.

John the Baptist, in Matthew 3:12, “His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning the chaff with unquenchable fire.”

Jesus says in Matthew 7:19, “Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”

Fire is connected to God’s wrath.  This connection of fire to judgement has led us to assume that fire will be an integral part of hell, and thus has led us to understand fire as bad.

But, as usual, things may not be always as they seem.   Here’s a question:  What if fire could also be considered good?

God appears to Moses as a burning bush, God leads his people out of Egypt by a pillar of fire,

Ezekiel sees God as a flashing fire that burns with splendour (Ezek. 1:4, 13-14), and for Malachi, God is the fire that refines and purifies (Mal 3:2-3, 4:1).  The writer of Hebrews even says that our God is a consuming fire (Heb 12:29). (Baker

Let’s use 1 Corinthians 3 as an example of how fire could be good.

11 For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. 12 If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, 13 their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work. 14 If what has been built survives, the builder will receive a reward. 15 If it is burned up, the builder will suffer loss but yet will be saved—even though only as one escaping through the flames.

“Did you catch that?  We all go through the flames.  Some of our work will be saved, some will be destroyed, but the builder will be saved.  The fire burns away the impurities, not the person.  If God is the devouring fire, then standing in the presence of God is to stand in the fire.  To stand in the flames means to burn away the chaff, the wickedness, and the sinfulness.” (Baker 114-115)

A story.

Adapted from Baker (115-116)

Take the image of your person who has done lots and lots of evil.  Lots of it.  Really bad dude.  Killed thousands of people.  Let’s give him a name.  Let’s call him Dexter.

Dexter passes away.  He prepares to go into the presence of God.  His attitude smacks of rebellion, anger, and hatred because he knows the time for payback has arrived.  He just knows that God is going to judge him harshly and throw him in eternal torture as punishment, and he hates God for it.

Dexter comes into the throne room of God.  Glaring flames of fire, so bright and hot that he cannot see, confront him.  His anger and rebellion turn to sheer terror.  He moves closer to the flames, and as he does so, he realizes that the blazing fire is God.  The closer he gets to God, the more deeply he feels, not  God’s hatred or judgment, but God’s love.  It is a love of such magnitude that, with its abundance, it acts as wrath, judging him for deficiency, and with its purity, it serves as a hell, punishing him for his depravity.  God’s love and mercy, both acting as judgment, are so extravagant, so abundant, so incomprehensible that they completely overwhelm Dexter.  Then he hears a voice from the fire.  He does not hear, “You evil, vile murderer.  I am going to get you now.  Revenge, punishment, and torture forever and ever!”  Instead, he hears God say with sorry forged from love, “I have loved you with an everlasting love.  But look at your life;  what have you done?”

Totally undone by God’s unorthodox approach, Dexter falls to his face, still afraid but with his hatred replaced by remorse.  As his life flashes before his eyes, he sees all the victims, mothers crying for their lost sons, children begging for the return of their murdered fathers, the 18 year old boy dying alone on the battlefield, crying for his mother.  Dexter hears their screams, sees their bloody and battered bodies, listens as they cry out for mercy.  And he knows he gave none.  Yet here he stands in the fire of God, receiving what he never gave.  He looks to his right and sees his victims. Still in the fire, God makes him go to each one and lay his hand upon their hearts.  As he does so, he feels all their pain, all of their disappointments, all of their fear, and knows that he has caused it all.  Within the crowd of victims, the last one he has left to touch, he sees Jesus.

When he places his hand on Jesus’ heart, he not only feels the pain, sorrow, and the disappointment he has caused Jesus; he also feels the unconditional love that Jesus has for him.  All the while the fire of God burns, devouring Dexter’s wickedness and evil deeds.  Lest you think he gets off too easy, this is hell for him.  With gnashing teeth and uncontrollable weeping, his heart breaks, and he cries in utter remorse, in unmitigated repentance, knowing he can never undo the damage he has caused.  Seeing his repentance and the unendurable and seemingly unending pain he feels as the fire burns off the chaff of his evil deeds, the victims are vindicated.  The one thing victims most often wish for is that their offender feel remorse and know the terrible pain he has caused them.  Dexter’s immense remorse and pain at the knowledge of his sin against them satisfy this need.

The paradox of God’s fire is that the farther a person stands from God in that day, the more pain the fire causes as it burns away the impurities.  Dexter doesn’t get away with murder; he doesn’t get to take a walk without suffering any consequences.  He burns in God’s eternal fire.  The more he burns, the closer he gets to God, until finally he stands next to God, purified, free from sin, and ready to hear God’s words.

Then Dexter hears God say, “I forgive you.  Will you be reconciled to me and to those you have wronged?” Barely able to answer, Dexter nods his head in utter disbelief.  Much to his astonishment, God asks Dexter’s victims to draw near to Dexter and put their hands on his heart.  As they touch him, each one feels Dexter’s pain, his fear, his disappointment; they can hear his cries as a child, know his shame as an adult, and understand who he was as an evil ruler.  Themselves forgiven and embraced by the love of God, they extend that same kind of grace to Dexter, forgiving him his sins against them.  At last Jesus stands before him, touches Dexter’s heart, and says, “I have loved you with an everlasting love, and I forgive you.  Will you enter into my kingdom and be restored to God?”  And Dexter accepts.  He has been judged by the fire of love; he has walked through the fire of God’s wrath; he has been purified by the fire of God’s mercy.  He receives forgiveness, reconciliation, and restoration, and he enters the kingdom of God, tested by fire, forgiven by grace.

The possibility exists, however, that Dexter does not accept God’s offer of restoration, or that after the testing of the fire, nothing remains of him at all.  Nothing. In order to preserve human freedom, which God gave to us at creation, we must allow for the possibility that some people will still reject God.  The fire does not eliminate the gift of human freedom. 

<pause>

Some of you may be thinking:  That’s an interesting story.

Others may be thinking:  I still think he gets off too easy.  Well, in our traditional understanding of heaven and hell, if Dexter made a death bed confession, he’d be getting off too easy as well, wouldn’t he?

One of the things I like about this story is that God’s integrity is preserved.  If we take the words of Jesus seriously, we are to love our enemies, and do good to those who hate us, and walk the extra mile.

The apostle Paul tells us in Romans 12:19-21  that we’re to leave room for God’s wrath, and instead of us taking revenge, “If you enemy is hungry, feed him;  if she is thirsty, give her something to drink.  In doing this, you will be heap burning coals on their head. Do not be overcome with evil, but overcome evil with good.”

“Would God command us to love enemies, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and return evil with blessing and then do the opposite?  We’re told to imitate God, right?  I love that Romans passage, because it really contradicts the idea of a vengeful God whose wrath demands retribution.  In this case, the retributive action Is to respond in love.  When we “leave room for the wrath of God,” we deal with enemies the way God does:  We bless them.” (Baker 121)

But that’s still not fair!  In this life, people get to do what they want and still get a chance at heaven!  What’s the point of me being a Christian now!   Why did I wake up on Sunday mornings and give money to church and trying to love my enemies when it’s been hard and give up my evenings to go tobogganing in a canoe with junior high kids?

Sounds a bit like a parable that Jesus told about some workers for a vineyard.  Some were hired at 9 am, some at noon, and some at 5 pm, and they all got paid the same.  When they cried “that’s not fair!”, the boss said:  You agreed to this.  I can pay people whatever I want!  (Matthew 20:13-16).

It also sounds a bit like a parable about 2 sons.  1 son took half his father’s wealth, went and spent it on wild living, came back empty handed with his tail between his legs, and his father had the nerve to throw a party.  When the older son heard about the party, “he came angry and refused to go in.  So his father went out and pleaded with him.

But he answered, “Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders.  Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends.  But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!”

“My son,”, the father said, “you were always with me, and everything I have is yours.  But we have to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” (Luke 15:28-31)

If you ask me, when we’re are quick to point out who’s not going to heaven, when we are the workers who scream “That’s not fair!”, when we’re the son who is completely unaware of the good things his father has shared with him his entire life, when we refuse to join the party…. I don’t think we’re not that far from hell after all.

Because really, do any of us deserve grace?

God’s justice isn’t about putting people in hell.  God’s justice is about restoration.  Reconciliation.   Relationships. 

Because the story is about God…

renewing all things – Matthew 19:28

restoring all things – Acts 3:19

reconciling all things – Colossians 1:20

(Poets, Preachers, and Prophets – Rob Bell)

And we get to be a part of it.

** Dear internet reader.  Please read the disclaimers both before and after Part 1.  Thanks!  **

 

3 Weeks in Hell, with Kyle – Part 1.

Harry Potter, Dentures, and Fracking:  The Point of It All.

The following was given as an insert to our church’s bulletin.

Some Introductory Thoughts to Three Weeks in Hell

In my preparation for these sermons, I’ve realized that it’s not just a conversation about hell.  It’s bigger than that.

It’s a conversation about God.  Jesus.  Spirit.  Faith.  Identity. Trust.  Relationship.  Church.  Life… Us.

As we enter the conversation, here are 3 quick notes.

1)    I could be wrong.  And so you could you.  We see through a glass darkly (1 Cor 13:12).  But I do believe that if, as a community, we do our best to follow Jesus in loving God and loving our neighbours, we’re on the right track.

2)    That being said, there are 4 ways to engage the conversation.

i)  During the service, you can text me any questions, and I’ll do my best to answer them during the Q and Eh part (with thanks to the Winnipeg Jets and the Meeting House to stealing “Q & Eh”).

ii) We will continue the conversation over a cup of fair trade coffee as part of the Extending the Learning Conversation.

iii) Follow along at www.kylepenner.wordpress.com.  Feel free to submit a comment or question there, and I’ll do my best to respond to you.   You’ll also find my reading list there.

iv) Hellbound is a great movie exploring different perspectives on hell.  If you’re interested in a movie night at Mel’s house, sign up on the back table in the foyer.

3)    I’m not intending these sermons to be doctrinal statements for our church or academic essays.  Without preaching for many hours (thank goodness we’re not), we can’t cover all there is to say.  Rather, I’m hoping that with some different perspectives (and good questions) on hell, in a small way we’ll be able to better understand who God is and how we live in this world as followers of Jesus.

–          Kyle

___________________________________________________________________________________

Picture a tiny town with a tight-knit community.  The people share joys and concerns, woes and gossip.  They keep a close and affectionate watch on one another’s business.  They talk and talk and talk.

What an outsider would notice within minutes of listening in on conversations, are constant and slightly self-conscious references to Uncle Ben.  A beautiful sunset prompts someone to say:  “Isn’t Uncle Ben awesome?”  Good news brings out how thankful and overjoyed they feel toward Uncle Ben.  Even in tragedy, a local might say, in slightly nervous fashion, “You know, it just goes to show how much we all need Uncle Ben.  I know – we all know – that Uncle Ben is good.”  Uncle Ben is always on their mind.

At the beginning of each week there’s a meeting in the largest house in town.  Upon arriving, people get caught up in good fellowship and animated discussion of the week’s events, with conversations straining in the direction of Uncle Ben.  When a bell sounds, talk ceases.  Everyone moves to the staircase and descends into the basement.  Each person sits facing an enormous, rumbling furnace.  Seated close to the furnace door, as if he were part of the furnace itself, is a giant man in black overalls.  His back is to them.

They wait in silence.  In time, the man turns around.  His face is angry, contorted.  He fixes a threatening stare of barely contained rage on each person, then roars:  “Am I good?”

To which they reply in unison, “Yes, Uncle Ben, you are good.”

“Am I worthy of praise?”

“You alone are worthy of praise.”

“Do you love me more than anything?  More than anyone?”

“We love you and you alone, Uncle Ben.”

“You better love me, or I’m going to put you… in here” – he opens the furnace door to reveal a gasping darkness, with sounds of anguish and lament coming through.  Uncle Ben finishes, “Forever.” (David Dark, as found in the Love Wins Companion)

___________________________________

How does that story, courtesy of David Dark, make you feel?  Ugh.  Blah.  Yrch.  Uncle Ben isn’t good.  He’s a monster.  He’s terrible.  Is God, like Uncle Ben?  What kind of God would do that?

Good questions.  Necessary questions.

In preparing to speak about hell, a number of you asked:  “Why?  Why should we talk about hell?”

Well, let’s start with a question.

What’s the point of faith?  What’s the point of God?  What’s God’s character?  What’s the point of this all?  Is it to get to heaven and avoid hell?  One of you shared with me that you were told by a grade 3 classmate that you were going to hell because you were reading Harry Potter.   I don’t blame the 8 year old.   But where does the kid get this from?  But then another one of you shared that your child was told that their dad is going to hell because he works on Sundays.  And this was told not by a child, but by their religion teacher in school.  Ah!  So now we know where the 8 year old got it from.  (Well, if reading  Harry Potter and working on Sundays is a highway to hell, I guess I’m on my way).  For the people telling kids that working on Sundays and reading Harry Potter leads to hell, I’m fairly sure that for them, faith is about avoiding hell.

Let’s just get right into it.

If you think that this whole Christianity thing is about avoiding hell and getting to heaven, I disagree.

I know that’s a fairly, strong, possibly arrogant statement, but I really mean it.   The Christian faith is not a message of “turn or burn.”  The Christian faith is not simply fire insurance.  Go to an insurance broker for that (there’s a good one on Main Street that I know of).  Being a follower of Jesus, I believe, is far better than that.

Let’s take a look at the words the first evangelists used to tell people about Jesus.  Did any of them say this?  “Accept Jesus as your personal saviour or you you’ll go to hell.”  No! They didn’t.  That means that the people who spent the most time with Jesus, the first people to share the news of Jesus outside of their borders, the first ones who said “Because Jesus died and rose again, something happened”, the first Christians who died for their faith… Not one of them made mention of hell as we know it.  Declare Jesus as Lord and Saviour?  Yes.  Repent?  Yes.  Live lives worthy of the gospel?  Yes.  Do it because if you don’t, you’re going to go hell?  No.

Let’s start with looking at what the Bible says about hell.  (I know this is short (really short), but I don’t think you want to hear a 45 minute lecture on the words used for hell).

Whenever we read the word Hell in the Old Testament, the Hebrew word is actually Sheol.

Sheol is translated as “grave”, “pit”, or “abode of the dead.”  It’s a place of darkness to which all the dead go, both the righteous and unrighteous.   If everyone goes there, it’s certainly not a traditional picture of hell.

Sometimes when we read the word hell in the New Tesament, it’s the Greek word Hades.   Hades is actually just the Greek translation of the word Sheol, and also refers to the abode of the dead.  The only passage that describes Hades as a really, really bad place is the story of Lazarus and the rich man, which we’ll get to that in future weeks.

And finally, most of the time that we read Jesus using the word Hell, he’s really using the word Gehenna.  Gehenna is the name of the Valley of Hinnom, the ever-burning garbage dump southwest of Jerusalem.  Its history in the Old Testament involved child sacrifice occurring there, and after King Josiah stopped that practice, it was an accursed garbage dump.  Always on fire, always smoking, full of garbage animals, and often the bodies of the worst criminals were dumped there (Randy Klassen).  When Jesus spoke of Gehenna, his hearers would think of the valley of rotting, worm-infested garbage, where the fire always burned, smoke always lingered, and if the wind blew just right, would sicken the senses of whoever smelt it.  It was a place of total disgust and horror (Sharon Baker).  Kind of like the Steinbach dump <smile>.

That was a lot.  I know.  To recap, the idea of hell being this place opposite of heaven where we are in eternal torment, is, I find, not biblical.

Where did this idea come from?

Well, the concept of hell as a place of torment for sinners was actually a concept more or less borrowed from other religions, especially the Persians, and used more or less as a tool to coerce and enforce behaviour, or, as some would say: Turn or Burn.

But Jesus does use the word Gehenna a lot.  He actually talks more about hell than heaven.  So what’s going on there?

Well, here’s a question for you.  When Jesus did use the word hell, to whom was he speaking?  He wasn’t speaking to the “sinners”, the bad people, the outsiders, the non-Christians… He was speaking to rich people and religious rulers.  He was speaking to the insiders.  To the good ones who didn’t smoke or dance or work on Sundays.  He even told the Pharisees,

15 “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You travel over land and sea to win a single convert, and when you have succeeded, you make them twice as much a child of hell (Gehenna) as you are.” Matthew 23:15

Ouch.  He calls them seagulls who live at the dump.

But, what about the coming wrath that John the Baptist refers to?

Well, if you keep living like this, the Romans will crush you.  Those who live by the sword will die by the sword.  And they did.  In the year 66 CE, the Jews took up arms against the Romans, and in the year 70 CE, the Romans crushed them.  Killed everyone.  Lots of weeping and gnashing and teeth.  Ground their city into dust.  Nothing left.  Nothing.  Wrath and darkness.

But… what about the goats?!

Us Mennonites love Matthew 25, and the parable of the sheep and the goats.  The sheep get eternal life and the goats get eternal punishment!

(Thanks to Rob Bell and Shane Hipps for the following).

The Greek work for eternal is Aeon, which doesn’t mean time never ending, as in thousands, and millions and billions of years from now.

Aeon means an intense present experience, that has a beginning and an end, like time slowing down.  Your kid gets up on water skis the first time and is all smiles?  Those 2 minutes last forever.  Your kid is throwing food in a restaurant?  Those 2 minutes last forever.

In the Old Testament, the word Olam is translated Eternal.  Some people think it means forever.  But it’s also the word used to describe how long Jonah was in the fish.  So it could also mean 3 days.

And the Greek word for punishment here is Kolazo, which is rooted in horticulture.  It can mean punishment.  But it can also mean:  A time of pruning, a time of trimming, an intense experience of correction.   It’s not this torment that is going to last forever.  It’s a time-out.  And, if I may borrow an analogy from my 3 year old, when she is in time out, there is a lot of wailing, moaning, pain, weeping and gnashing of teeth.  And then, 3 minutes later, it’s over.  Unless she doesn’t listen again.  Then it’s back into timeout she goes.

Taking Jesus’ words on hell literally also leads us to some funny questions.

How can there be total darkness where there is fire?

Are there places God can’t really be?  Like, really? Pslam 139 speaks of us hiding in the depths, but God finding us there.  1 Peter 3 speaks of Jesus preaching to the dead spirits.  Huh?

If there is weeping and gnashing of teeth, are people without teeth given dentures when they go to hell?

So maybe Jesus is speaking a bit more metaphorically than we sometimes give him credit for.  And, given that none of the first disciples ever used hell as a motivator to consider the Christian faith, I think we need to rethink this whole God as Uncle Ben the monster thing.

There is so much to say.  So much.

But alas, we don’t have time.  Let’s go back to the gospels of Jesus.

(The following is from The Last and the Word After That, by Brian Mclaren)

The gospel of John never uses the word hell.  Mark barely mentions it.  Matthew and Luke mention it, but Luke softens much of Matthew’s statements.  So really, Matthew has the most hellfire and brimstone in it.

If you go through every passage in Matthew that talks about hell or judgment, and take note of the Behaviour, Consequence and Point, what do you end up with it?  What’s the biggest point of Jesus’ teaching, right?

“Many people would think that it looks like this:

Behaviour:  Not accept Jesus Christ as a personal saviour, not being saved or born again, not asking Jesus into our heart so your sins can be forgiven, etc.

Consequence:  Being sent to hell.

Point:  Accept Jesus as your personal Saviour.

But, if we actually did the exercise and comb through the gospels, we’d find that not one of the passages in the gospel of Matthew says anything remotely like this.

If you do this, and please do, you might find this:

Be Fruitful.  Now.  Bear fruit now.  Don’t just talk or say the right things, but live out the teaching of the Kingdom of God, especially in the area of compassion for the weak and needy and vulnerable.

It was clear that Jesus wasn’t saying anything goes, everything’s OK.  He was telling people that they would be held accountable, that how they live now would count forever.  Even his followers will face judgement.   But he emphasizes this so that they’ll not be hypocritical or complacent now.”  (Mclaren).

The point, is living in the Kingdom of God.  The point, is the rule of God in our hearts and in our world.  The point, is fruitful living now.

The point, is the fruits of the Spirit.  Of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, humility and self-control.  And that if we don’t bear fruit, we will be cut down and thrown onto the burn pile.

I think that Jesus uses such strong language because I think the consequences of not living fruitful lives are huge.  The consequences really matter.

Have you talked to a police officer?  Creating hell is a very real choice for all of us.

Have you ever talked to somebody who works for Child and Family Services?  Creating hell is a very real choice in our world.

Have you ever been a victim of violence?  Creating hell is a very real choice.

Have you ever been to a refugee camp?  Or in a conflict zone? Have you lived with someone with a substance abuse problem?  Or lived with someone who has an addiction?  Do you know someone who doesn’t care about others, only themselves?  Do you know an island nation or two that might literally disappear if the polar ice caps melt?  Do you know someone who uses fear and shame to belittle or control others?  Or a landlord who doesn’t fix holes in the windows or call an exterminator?  Do know someone who has been the victim of abuse?  Or someone who doesn’t give a rip about relationships?  Do you know someone who has been disowned by their family?  Or know someone who works two jobs and has trouble feeding their kids?  Do you know a child soldier?  Or someone working in the sex trade?  Have you heard the stories of residential school survivors?  Do you know someone who wants to work but can’t and has trouble feeding their kids?  Or know someone who has to go to the hospital and doesn’t have a ride?  Do you know a community whose water supply has been contaminated because of fracking?  Do you know someone who is alone in this world?

Creating hell is a very, very real choice in our world.   Some of it is personal.  Some it is systemic.  But it’s a very real option.

Rob Bell puts it nicely (Bell, in Love Wins):

“We need a loaded, volatile, adequately violent, dramatic, serious word to describe the very real consequences we experience when we reject the good and true and beautiful life that God has for us.  We need a word that refers to the big, wide, terrible evil that comes from the secrets hidden deep within our hearts all the way to the massive, society-wide collapse and chaos that comes when we fail to live in God’s world God’s way.

The choice of living in heaven or living in hell is very real.  It’s just not about the afterlife.  It’s about our lives, now.  Because, if we don’t make the right choices, I think we miss out on something that could be beautiful.”

I think if we hang on to anger, I think it’s poison in our own soul, and we miss out God’s best for us.

I think if we choose to be selfish, we miss out.

I think if we choose violence, if we keep giving into substance abuse, if we don’t get help for our addictions, if we don’t apologize when we make mistakes, if we believe that we are insignificant, if we don’t work towards forgiveness when we’re wronged, if we don’t turn the other cheek, if we don’t walk the extra mile, I think we miss out on the beauty that can be found when we live the life Jesus invites us to.

If we don’t love our neighbours, if we don’t live in solidarity with the marginalized, if we don’t use all of our power and privilege for those who need it the most, if we don’t seek reconciliation and restoration for both the oppressed and the oppressor, if we don’t take care of God’s good earth, if we don’t try to love our enemies, if we don’t exist for the benefit of the other, I think we miss out on the beautiful life Jesus invites us to live.

This is the invitation before us.  The choice.  It’s not “turn or burn.”

It’s, “Do we trust that following Jesus leads to love?”  Love for you, for me, love for the entire world?  It’s a choice we have to make every day of our lives.   It’s a choice to make when life is good and when life is hard and when our faith is strong and when our faith is weak. Do we trust that following Jesus leads to love?   A love that transforms us?   A love that transforms everything?  Do we trust that following Jesus leads to love?

Amen.

*To my internet readers.  These are sermons I preached at a small Mennonite church in Steinbach.  We have people with multiple university degrees, and people who haven’t finished high school yet.  We have 88 year olds in the pews and 13 year olds in the pew.  And I firmly don’t believe that sermons are academic essays.  So I probably missed some stuff, or some scholars may disagree with me, or you think I should have gone deeper in some places, or you may even disagree with me.  I get that.  I ask for your grace. And your best bet would be to make the trip to Steinbach (I hear it’s worth the trip) for the next 2 Sundays and sit in on our life giving conversations about hell (that last little bit is ironic, isn’t it?).

“3 Weeks in Hell with Kyle” – Reading List

The following are books that have helped shape my upcoming sermons.  Some were helpful.  Some were not.  If you can only read one or two, follow the **’s.

**The Great Divorce, by C.S. Lewis

**Razing Hell:  Rethinking Everything You’ve Been Taught about God’s Wrath and Judgment, by Sharon L. Baker

**Love Wins, by Rob Bell

**The movie, Hellbound, directed by Kevin Miller

Red Letter Revolution, by Shane Claiborne and Tony Campolo

What Does the Bible Really Say About Hell?, by Randy Klassen

The Love Wins Companion, edited by David Vanderveen

The Last Word and the Word After That, by Brian Mclaren

Selling Water by the River, by Shane Hipps

The Devil Wears Nada:  Satan Exposed, by Tripp York

Erasing Hell, by Francis Chan and Preston Sprinkle

The Case for Faith, by Lee Strobel

Her Gates Will Never Be Shut:  Hope, Hell, and the New Jerusalem, by Bradley Jersak

Evil and the Justice of God, by N.T. Wright

Following Jesus: Biblical Reflections on Discipleship by N.T. Wright

Plus copious amounts of reading at www.redletterchristians.org

Burnt Dinner, World’s Best Dad, and Candlesticks

I have been left in awe this Advent here at Grace.  We have spent a lot of time listening to stories of darkness.  We have looked for, and sometimes found, glimmers of light.  We all have these stories, don’t we?  In deep places, we can name them as dark.  In lighter spaces, we can call them curveballs.

When life throws you curveballs that you have no control over, how do you respond?

What if someone steals your stuff?

What if someone in the drive through at Tim Horton’s pays for your coffee?

What if someone says something quite hurtful?

What is someone out of the blue writes you a wonderful note saying how great you are?

What if your health takes a turn for the worse?

What if you kid unexpectedly gets engaged?  (And you don’t know what to think about their partner yet…)

What if one of your kids refuses to go to bed early and the other wakes up ridiculously early?

What if friendships fade?

What if your teenager backs the one car into the other car because they didn’t check the mirrors

What if someone isn’t coming home for Christmas?

What if someone, at your family gathering today after church,  burns the turkey dinner?

What if your fiancé has a baby growing inside of her, and you’re not the daddy?

We all have these parts of our lives, don’t we?  Maybe not the “Getting pregnant through the Holy Spirit” part, but stories that we have no control over, that shape us and change us and dictate how we live our lives.   Some of them are small things.  Others are big.  Some are positive. Others are negative.  These are our stories.  These are our lives.  All of us.

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Joseph’s in a bit of a conundrum, isn’t he?  His fiancé’s pregnant, and he’s not the daddy.

Their families had come together to arrange this marriage.  They were supposed to get married and live happily ever after.  Like most families 2000 years ago, he was supposed to be a carpenter and bring home the bacon, and she was supposed to have babies and keep the home running smoothly.  That was the plan. But now the plan has started a few months earlier than it was supposed to.  And he doesn’t know who the baby’s daddy is.  What’s he supposed to do?

One my favourite parts here is the beginning of verse 20.

“But after he had considered this…” (Matthew 1:20)

He pondered.

We often remember the verse about Mary pondering who this kid really is, but that pondering happened after the shepherds showed up babbling in excitement about a choir of angels singing about this new born baby.  (Luke 2:19)

But here, Joseph also was pondering what to do with this unexpected pregnancy.

Should he follow the letter of the law?

Well, if you follow the letter of the law, Mary could have been stoned for her transgressions.  The law was clear (Deuteronomy 22).  Single parenting wasn’t a thing that happened 2000 years ago.

But Joseph was better than this, and so he chose to follow the Spirit of the Law.  He decided that he was going to leave her quietly.  They would each go back to their families and live their lives as normally as they could.  It was probably the best way for everyone to save face.

Now, I’m sure he didn’t make this decision lightly.  He probably wrestled with it, lost a lot of sleep over it, prayed about it… He probably was pretty angry about how Mary had messed up his life.  Life handed him some lemons, but he was going to do his best to make lemonade.  He was going to try to find some light in the middle of this darkness.

And then, when he’s finally made up his mind and decided to do the honourable, righteous, yet still lawful thing, an angel appeared to him.  Dang those angels, always coming and mucking up our plans.

The angel showed up, saying, “Do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife.  It’s the Holy Spirit.  She’ll give birth to a son, and you’ll call him Jesus, and he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:20-21)

Joseph was probably thinking, “Whhaaatt…. really? Like, really?  Come on.  I am already trying to find the light in this darkness, and you want me to do that?  What will our families think?  What will people say about us?  “Oh look!   There goes Joseph with his “virgin born” kid.  Phht…””

But he does, doesn’t he?  He takes Mary home and names the kid Jesus.  And I think that in the end, he probably didn’t regret that decision.  Being the earthly father of the Son of God is probably one worthy of those “World’s Best Dad” mugs or something.

In this story, Joseph was open.  He was open to God doing something that Joseph couldn’t imagine.  This was waaaay outside of his comfort zone, this was waaaay outside of anything anyone else had experienced, he had not control over it, yet he was open to it.  He was living in anticipation of God doing something big.

He probably had lots of fears. Gosh, I had lots of fears when I first found out I was going to be a dad, and I didn’t have an angel come and tell me that my kid is going to save the world from their sins.   He probably also had lots of hope and dreams for both his marriage and his kid, including curling games and fishing trips.  But in the midst of these hopes and fears, he was open to saying “Yes” to God, not knowing where it would lead him.

Joseph had the rug pulled out from underneath him, the clearly laid path before him vanished overnight, and certainty was replaced with uncertainty.

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We don’t like uncertainty, do we?   It’s kind of messy, isn’t it?  We often like things in nice and neat categories.

I think, though, I say this as humbly (and not glibly) as possible, that in it’s in this uncertainty, this messiness of life, that we receive the most grace.  And that we give the most grace.

Grace is the free and undeserved favour of God, given as a gift.  The free and undeserved favour of God, given as a gift.

If our lives were neat and tidy, if everything went according to plan, would we need grace?  And would we be able to give it?

I was having a conversation with someone lately, and one of us said:  “I just expected more from them.”  Yeah. Don’t we all expect more from some people?  And the response was:
Even so, how do we be gracious?  Because there will be times in our lives where we will need others to be gracious to us…”

This isn’t giving people the right to be jerks, or that we are pushovers, or that there isn’t a place for conflict resolution… But in the midst of all the brokenness in the world, how do we give grace?  And maybe, more importantly, in the midst of all the brokenness inside of us, how do we receive grace?

Grace means that we don’t write people off.  Ever.  We still hope for more.  Because God isn’t done with them.  People’s lives are worth more than the worst things that they do.

And we can only hope that people give us the same grace and not write us off.  Ever.  And still hope for more.  Because God isn’t done with us, either.  Our lives are worth more than the worst things that we do.

Imagine what our lives would be like if we weren’t open to the messiness of giving and receiving grace?  Imagine if we all got what we deserved… Imagine we were treated as if we were beyond redemption…

Imagine what the Christmas story would be if Joseph didn’t say yes to God and show grace to Mary?  Maybe a shepherd or a wise man would have stepped up to the plate.

It’s kind of messy, isn’t it?  Lines end up being blurred.  We risk being wrong.  We risk being wronged.  We might be rejected.  We give up control of the outcome.  We might even end up fathering children that we didn’t conceive.   It’s kind of scandalous, isn’t it?

I read something a few months ago by Deborah Hirsch that has stuck with me.  She said this:

“I never lead with theology.  I always lead with an embrace.”  I never lead with theology. I always lead with an embrace.

I think there’s something beautiful about the image of Joseph giving Mary an embrace and saying:  “It’s okay. We’re going to get through this.  I don’t really know what God is up to, but I know God is up to something.”

______________________________________________

In the summer, I had the chance to go see the new Broadway production of Les Miserables.  It was phenomenal.  And there’s a scene that will forever haunt me.

Jean Valjean is an ex-convict who ends up stealing some silverware from the bishop in the night.  The next morning, the police have captured Jean Valjean and bring him back to the Bishop.

Watch the clip here.  (In case you didn’t click the link, or already know the story, the Bishop tells the police officers that he had given Jean Valjean the silverware, and that Jean Valjean had forgotten the candlesticks.  And then he gave Jean Valjean the candlesticks and told him to use them to start an honest life.  Jean Valjean is dumbstruck.  Simply beautiful.)

The best part of this is the Bishop’s Name.  Bishop Bienvenu.  My mom is probably embarrassed by my Mennonite accent butchering the French. Bishop Bienvenu.

Bishop “Welcome.”  Bishop “Welcome Guest.”  Bishop “Visitor who has been invited.”  Bishop “Welcome.”

In the book, he says this to Jean Valjean:  “Now,” said the Bishop, “go in peace. By the way, when you return, my friend, it is not necessary to pass through the garden. You can always enter and depart through the street door. It is never fastened with anything but a latch, either by day or by night.”

Bishop Bienvenu.

Jonathon Wilson-Hartgrove, one of my favourite authors, tweeted this a while ago

When a thief is caught red-handed,

Justice says:  “You’re going to jail.”

Mercy says:  “Maybe you’ll get a second chance.”

But grace says:  “Oh.  You forgot the candlesticks.  Here, take them too.”

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Certainty is replaced with uncertainty.  And in this darkness of uncertainty, light shines through.  And I think that in the messiness of our lives and in the brokenness of our world, God enters.  I think this is the Christmas story.  Joseph is open to God entering our messy and broken world through the birth of a baby.  And beautiful things happen.

Richard Nixon, Monopoly, and Puddleglum

Every Advent, we get excited about the birth of Jesus, of God with us.  We decorate our houses and drink egg nog and sing along to our favourite Christmas carols.  And, if my Facebook feed is any indication, many of us here start putting up our Christmas trees in the middle of November already.  Because it’s the most wonderful time of the year, right?

Image

And then I take a look at the Scriptures that churches are using around the world for the second Sunday of Advent, and I get stuck with this guy!

John the Baptist.  Wearing camel’s hair and eating grasshoppers, 30 years after Jesus was born.  And using words like vipers, fire, chopping down trees, winnowing fork, burn, unquenchable fire.

Come on!  Where’s the manger and the angels and the shepherds?  There is no brood of vipers in my kid’s Fisher Price Little People nativity scene (although that would be kind of neat). 

We’ll talk about hell and fire in January, so we won’t go there right now.  But I think that there are two things going on here in this Matthew text that have nothing to do with hell and fire and everything to do with little baby Jesus coming in a few weeks.

First, the dark part.  The cutting down and burning and winnowing fork and the fire. 

These words were directed to the Pharisees and Sadducees.  The gospel writer made sure that we knew that.  Why?

Well, the Sadducees were the ruling elite. They were the wealthy.  They held the power.  In contemporary language, this was the 1%.   They were the local government that worked with the Roman Empire.  They were more concerned about power and politics than religion. 

The Pharisees were mostly middle class religious leaders.  They were the priests.  They knew the people.    They were quite righteous and holy.  They knew the Torah.  They knew the rules as to who was in and who was out.  And they had some public support from the middle class because they did their best to maintain a decent lifestyle for many people.  In contemporary language, these were the leaders who used their power to maintain status quo. 

And John the Baptist cuts them both down and throws them into the fire.

Okay.  In order to understand what’s going on here with the Pharisees and Sadducees, let’s talk about something else that we all understand.  Cancer.  And how we talk about cancer. (Bet you didn’t see that one coming…).

We all know that we are mortal and that we will all die someday, but when we, or someone we know is diagnosed with cancer, it hits us like a ton of bricks.   And we all have loved ones who have passed away because of cancer, and it hurts.  But we also all know people who have been diagnosed with cancer, and through a variety of treatments, the cancer is in now remission. 

Talking about cancer and remission and death is hard for most of us, and often, the language we use sounds something like this.

“I’m going to beat this. I’m strong.  I’m going to fight this.”

Richard Nixon, after a failed war in Vietnam, declared a War on Cancer, and now we do our best to defeat it.

I get why we do this. We dig deep down into ourselves and find the resources to face life with cancer.  None of us want to die, so we do everything we can to live.  Creating an enemy is also a remarkable technique to rally the troops towards a common goal.  And this can be a good thing.

The only problem with this language is that also creates losers.

When someone dies because of their cancer, we use language that sounds something like this.

“They fought to the very end, but they lost the battle.  Cancer won.  It was just too strong.”

Now, the person who died is a loser, and cancer is the winner. 

We all know this isn’t true.  We all know that people whose cancer is in remission aren’t stronger than people whose cancer is spreading.  We all know that the person who passes away wasn’t weak or didn’t try hard enough or is a loser.  We’re mortal. We die.  And some of us get diagnosed with cancer and live, and others of us get cancer and don’t. 

But the language we use creates a system of winners and losers.  And often the losers never stand a chance of winning.  They have no control over the outcome.

It’s not about winning and losing against cancer or any other illness.  It’s about living life with an illness.  It’s about living to the best we can, regardless of whether our bodies are working or not.  It’s about facing all the highs and lows that life gives us and our responses to those highs and lows that matter. 

I think we all know this, but the language of winners and losers isn’t helpful.

But I think the narrative of winning and losing doesn’t only apply to cancer.  I think it applies to almost everything in our culture.

It obviously applies to sport teams, where we can make Roughrider jokes or Blue Bomber jokes based on what the other team is doing.  Yay! We won!  Awww, man, we lost.   I mean, like really, we let meaningless events that we have no control over affect our mood so much that some of us turn off our TVs in disgust when our team loses.

It applies to our political systems.  This whole democracy thing is based on winners and losers.  If our person wins, then yay!  And if our person loses, then boo.  And for most of our Western Democracies, it’s all about winning.  We hear about wedge issues, inserting poison pills into legislation, attack ads, coalition, political spin… Every single one of our political parties is in it to win.  And that means that we’re also creating a lot of losers. 

Business is like this too.  Our capitalist system works for most of us, but not all of us. Without even going into the massive wealth disparity between the rich and the poor, the best example of our system creating winners and losers is the board game Monopoly.  How do you win in Monopoly?  Make everybody else bankrupt.    You make them sell their hotels, and then you make them mortgage their properties, and then buy those properties at a steep discount so you can expand your own empire.  When you look at it like this, it’s quite a terrible game for our children, but it’s a fairly strong indicator of how our economic system works.  

Eat or be eaten, right? Because this is the way the system works.

Awfully dark and depressing, isn’t it?  This world we live in puts everybody into two categories:  Winners and Losers. 

And isn’t one of our greatest fears that we’ll be in the wrong category?  That we’ll be on the wrong side?  That we’ll be losers?

Most of us will use all of our power and privilege and wealth and relationships to not be on the wrong side.  We’ll use all our hearts and soul and strength and minds to not be a loser. 

Who does that sound like?  Well meaning people, both religious and political, who are trying to maintain their lifestyles.  It could  be the Saducees and the Pharisees.  It could be us.

I don’t think that for most of us, the lives we lead are inherently bad.  Just like the Pharisee and Sadducees, we’re all doing our best to get by in this world. I actually think many of us are hanging on by a thread, but admitting it means that we might be putting ourselves in the wrong category.

One of the questions we have to ask is:  Does the way we live our lives put people in the wrong category. 

In our efforts to be winners, do we create losers?

 Let’s try a couple of examples.

Are our hockey teams and piano lessons and dance classes accessible to all?  What about high school sports and music trips?  In our efforts to be the best and go to the best places, and put our kids in the best summer sports camps, are we leaving some kids behind? 

In our endless pursuit of recreation, be it through more stuff for our houses, more snowmobiles or vacation homes, how are we present to those who can’t participate in these? If we are constantly planning our next adventure or vacation, how do we live with those of us who are scraping by?  Do we even know each others names?

In our churches, are we willing to make sacrifices to ensure that nobody is left out?  The easy part of that is subsidizing expensive church trips.  The harder part is getting to know, respect and love the people around us who may be richer than us, poorer than us, vote differently than us, read their Bibles different than us, or not read their Bibles at all.

In our efforts to be successful, do we create categories?

I think that’s why John the Baptist chopped down the Pharisees and Sadducees and put them on the burn pile.  They were using their power and privilege to maintain the status quo that came at the expense of others.  In their effort to be winners, they created losers.  The common folk, the marginalized, the oppressed, those without a lot of money, those without a lot of internal strength, the outsiders, the people without status…  The Pharisees and Sadducees weren’t using their power and privilege for the least of these, and because of that, they received the harshest words.

Sometimes, I like to look at the Pharisees and Sadducees as them, the others, people who really missed the point.  And other times, I look at the Pharisees and Sadducees as me, as us, as people who can very easily miss the point.

 Kind of dark, eh? 

It’s always better to light a candle than to curse the darkness, so enter light.

John the Baptist has different words for the crowds.  The 99%.  The rest of the people who aren’t part of the ruling elite or religious leaders or maintaining the status quo. 

 “Prepare the way for the Lord, and make straight the paths for him.”

The Lord is coming, and he is coming in a way different than the way of the world.

John is quoting Isaiah 40, which begins with the words:

  “Comfort, comfort my people.”

In Isaiah 11, in a foretelling of Jesus, we read about who this new type of leader will be: 

 The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—

    the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
    the Spirit of counsel and of might,
    the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord—
 and he will delight in the fear of the Lord.

He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,
    or decide by what he hears with his ears;
 but with righteousness he will judge the needy,
    with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth…

 I think we have a negative view of the word judge, like someone with a gavel sending someone to jail.  I think, though, that we can look at this like:  “I have decided that you have gotten the short straw in life, and I’m going to make that right.”

 He’s a king, a leader, but not one that creates categories of winners and losers.  He’s a king like we read about in Psalm 72. 

  For he will deliver the needy who cry out,

    the afflicted who have no one to help.
 He will take pity on the weak and the needy
    and save the needy from death.
 He will rescue them from oppression and violence,
    for precious is their blood in his sight.

The Lord is coming to be with the crowds, the marginalized, the oppressed, the weak, those without money, those who are outsiders, those without power and privilege, those who have been told they are worthless or useless.  God is on their side. 

This is the good news of the birth of Jesus.  This is the story of a God who enters our world in the unlikeliest of places.  In every age it bypasses the rich and powerful and it goes straight to those who need it.  It bypasses kings and religious and political leaders, it probably bypasses me, many of us, this place, and goes straight to an unwed teenager in backwoods Bethlehem.  It’s about powerlessness, and the all powerful God saying:  Do not be afraid.  I am with you.

 I’m going to end with a video by Franciscan Friar Richard Rohr, but before I do, I want to preemptively address one question.  

Maybe one of us is thinking:  That’s some nice thoughts and all, about winners and losers and power and privilege, but that’s not how the world works.  Maybe you and Mel and Audrey get to drink coffee all day and sing Kumbaya, but for me, it’s a dog eat dog world out there.

You’re right.  You are.  I’m not going to pretend that navigating power and privilege is easy, and I fully admit that those of you who live and work in a fiercely competitive world might sometimes have to do some fancy stick handling.  I get that.  And I’m not going to give you any easy answers.

But I will share with you the wise words of Puddleglum.  Puddleglum is a character from the children’s books the Chronicles of Narnia, and Jim Wallis writes the following.

In the book the Silver Chair, two children are on a mission to rescue a prince from a wicked witch, who has entrapped him in an underground kingdom with her powers.  They enlist Puddleglum, an unspectacular Narnian creature of humourous characteristics from a swamp. 

When they free the prince, the witch returns and uses her power against them.  They are all wilting under her magic dust and enchanted words, which deny everything but her own kingdom.  The wicked queen says there is no Narnia, no Aslan, but only her world of power.  At that moment she stands for all the rulers of this world, who say that their power is the only reality and who deny the existence of any other claim or promise that could challenge them.

In the story, the one to stand up to the witch is not the valiant prince or the heroic children but the uncharismatic swamp creature, Puddleglum.  With his bare foot he stamps out the fire that is releasing the evil incense of her enchantments.  Then, limping up to her in pain, he says this:

“One word, Ma’am… All you’ve been saying is quite right… So I won’t deny any of what you said.  But there’s one more thing to be said, even so.  Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things – trees and grass and moon and stars and Aslan himself.  Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones.  Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world.  Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one.  We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right.  But four babies playing a game can make a play world which licks your real world hollow.  That’s why I am going to stand by the play world.  I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it.  I’m going to be as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia.”

“A voice of one calling in the wilderness,

‘Prepare the way for the Lord,
    make straight paths for him.’ 

And if you are reading this, click this link and watch the movie.  Really.

An Open Letter to Ted Falk

Dear Ted,

I tried calling you yesterday.  I was told you were unavailable.  I left a message for you to call me back, but you didn’t.  This morning, I called one of your workers to get through to you.  You still didn’t call me back.  So I’m going to write it as an open letter instead, with the hope that you read this again and give me a call.

When I first read the transcript of your interview with the Carillon, I couldn’t believe you actually suggested that a then 16 year old gay kid may have organized people to drive by and yell gay slurs at him while on national television. 

But apparently you did.

I don’t think you truly understand what you did.

Ted, you marginalized an already marginalized kid, part of a demographic that is not getting a lot of love these days in Steinbach.  This fall, the furor over Bill 18 had subsided for the most part, and we were all moving on with our lives.  The news cameras were gone, the petitions were over, and Evan was trying to live a normal life, finishing grade 12.

And then you went and threw him under the bus.  You, a 53 year old married man who takes his grandkids on the campaign trail promoting family values, threw a high school student under the bus.  Unprovoked and out of the blue, no less.

Do you see what you did? 

I thought you’d realize your error.  Yesterday, before I called you, I told my friends:  “Ted made a mistake. All he has to do is apologize, admit that he was wrong, and move on.  We all make mistakes.  Admitting them publically can sometimes be considered a character strength.”

Evan publically denied organizing homophobic slurs to be yelled at him, and stated his shock and hurt at your suggestion, and was hoping for an apology.

And then I read your statement.

You simply said that you had no idea if it were staged or not and that you’re against bullying.

Ted, by you not apologizing, you are indirectly saying that Evan’s story might not be true.  And thus, you are saying that a then 16 year old of might have lied, deceived, and manipulated an entire community/province/country.   You are casting doubt on his words without a shred of evidence suggesting the contrary.

Do you see what you did here?  Now, a 17 year high school student, whom everyone recognizes, is accused of not telling the truth.  How do think he feels?  His family?  His friends?  His community?  Have you even talked to him in all of this?

He didn’t seek out the press this time.  They approached him.  He said yes in order to clear his name and show a bit what his life is like in Steinbach.  And when he’s being interviewed on TV today, guess what happens?  Someone drives by and yells another homophobic slur at him.  Do you think that he staged that one too?

My faith leads me to defend the cause of the weak and to seek justice.  This is not a question about orientation, lifestyle, agenda, faith, religious rights, or politics.  In my little way, I will not stand silent while are using your position of power and influence to marginalize a minor.  This is unacceptable.   

Ted, I expect more from you.  This goes beyond politics and the by-election happening on Monday.  This is about you and your words creating an unsafe environment for a vulnerable population, all the while hoping to represent them in Ottawa on Tuesday morning. 

I hoped you would apologize, or at least explain why you said what you said, but apparently that’s not going to happen.  But I continue to hold out hope that you will work to restore broken relationships. 

You have my phone number.  I’m looking forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Kyle Penner

The Canoe Turns 1

My blog is officially one year old.

Happy  Birthday little buddy!

Looking back, starting The Canoe was an experiment.  I had lots of reasons why I didn’t want to blog.  I’m busy enough as it is.  I didn’t want it to take away from real relationships.  I didn’t really know what content I would post.  I didn’t know if it was a personal or work blog, or if readers could tell the difference.  Would I post something stupid that would come back to haunt me?  There’s lots of other blogs out there, so what could I add?

But I started anyways, not sure what the result would be.  I guess I was thinking that if I like reading other people’s thoughts, maybe someone out there with an internet connection might like reading mine.  (Plus, I have this formative email I received from a friend 10 years ago (pre-Facebook, people!).   I wrote a quarterly update about my year in Zimbabwe with MCC’s SALT program, and she emailed me back saying, “If you wrote a book, I’d read it.”  That has stuck with me for all these years…) 

Here are some random thoughts about blogging at The Canoe for 12 months.

1)       The internet is a funny place.  You have no idea who reads your writing.  And you can see people you don’t know talking about you on their Facebook pages (*cough… change your privacy settings… cough*).  Weird.

2)      It’s interesting meeting new people and almost immediately having them tell you, “I read your blog.”  Which article?  Are we now going to have a conversation about it?  Will it be a healthy conversation?  It’s almost as if people have already decided if they are on your “side” or not, and that will dictate your conversation (and relationship).  Although, kudos to my dentist for thanking me for my blog while working in my mouth.  Seriously awesome.  And if you’re reading this, I’ll do my best to floss more.

3)      Comments.  This one I have mixed feelings about.

–          I only allowed pre-approved comments on for the first 10 months, so I saw all of them, but only approved a few. 

–          On one hand, I want to give people the chance to engage with me, ask questions, or leave their thoughts. 

–          But on other hand, how much energy should I invest in strangers?  I mean really… if people from 77 countries have read my blog (including Estonia, Kyrgyzstan, Maldives and the Cayman Islands), does it matter what strangers think?  Should I care if people, whom I have no mutual friends, agree or disagree with me?

–          Plus, I didn’t want to let my blog resort to online forum discussions (fights) that do little but polarize us as we seek to prove “us” right and “others” wrong.  

–          But, I’m not averse to people disagreeing with me, as I disagree with others.  And I also wanted to leave a space for affirmations as well.

–          After 10 months, I really got tired of strangers asking me if I believe the Bible is the word of God (if you’re still wondering, the answer is “yes”), and feeling like I had to respond to everyone who emailed me.  So I figured that making all the comments public would allow people to hopefully filter their own comments, or at least let others try to help elevate the conversation.  The jury is still out on the whole “comments” thing.

4)      An anonymous blog set up to disagree with me (really?!… you made an entire blog with only one post, and it’s about why I’m wrong?!) is a fascinating phenomenon.   

5)      My goal has never been to increase clicks or shares.  I share each post once on Facebook and once on Twitter, and don’t tag any of my posts.  If people want to read it, then fine.  If not, no worries.

6)      My posts have ranged from 25 views to just under 15,000 views.  

7)      People have found my blog by searching:   “Bilbo Baggins wheres you shoes at”, “i want to become a Mennonite but my mother doesn’t want me too”, and “peeing in front of youth pastor bathroom.”   The internet is a funny place.

8)       Conversations about faith, church, and how we do life together best happen in the context of meaningful relationships.  Always.  It’s my hope when people read my blog, they’re able to engage it within their context of relationships.  Real relationships. Not internet relationships.  How we live together as families, churches, and communities when we agree about some things and disagree about other things is where the rubber meets the road.

So, will The Canoe make it to year two?  We’ll see.  I’m not entirely sold on it.  However, I have received enough positive feedback from it (especially from people that I know, or people who are grateful for a different perspective on Christian spirituality than they’ve previously heard), that I plan to continue for now.  I also am discovering that I love to write, and so until I get enough of my ducks in a row that I will actually write (and finish) a book, blogging at The Canoe will have to do.

Grace and Peace,

Kyle

Book Review: The Great Divorce

In preparation for a sermon series on hell, I have a large pile of books to read through.  Some I skim, while others I read intently.  The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis is one of the books that I read thoroughly.

I love narrative theology.  It’s much more enjoyable to read.  And listen to. (Jesus may have been on to something with the whole story telling thing…)  Our world needs more stories.

But what I found most amazing about The Great Divorce was the way that it painted vivid pictures of heaven and hell in ways that are accessible for all readers.  Not in terms of vocabulary or plot, but in terms of acknowledging all the different approaches to afterlife.

You can read of second chances and no second chances in the same chapter.  Same with the ideas that everything is predestined or it’s all based on choice.  Hell as a place of conscious thoughts vs. not, as a place or torment vs. not, as a place you can leave vs. not, purgatory vs. not… it’s all there.  The genius of C.S. Lewis shines through everywhere.

There is so much going on in this book, but here are 3 thoughts that have stuck with me (both when I first read the book ten years ago, and again recently):

1)       His description of hell:

a.  Shades of reality.  It’s like our world, but worse. Grey, dreary, always raining, bland, heavy and half-alive are the adjectives I’d use to describe his hell.  You can have anything you want, but it will not satisfy.

b.  Alone.  You don’t like your neighbours?  Move.  You can do that.  You can move as far away as possible from anybody who bothers you.  And in the end, you can be the king of your castle, pacing back and forth, muttering to yourself about who annoys you and how you’re better than everybody else.

2)      His description of heaven:

a.  Shades of reality.  It’s like our world, but better.  Vivid, colourful, joyful, light, passionate, and fully alive are the adjectives I’d use to describe his heaven.  Everything is better than in our world, more real, but the kicker is that you don’t really care, because all your needs are satisfied.

b.  Community.  I found the spirits coming back for the ghosts to be quite comforting.  And it’s that exact community, (the people that drove us nuts here on Earth that are in heaven), that keep some of the ghosts from entering heaven.  But if only the ghosts would let go of their hang-ups, the hang-ups would cease to be hang-ups.  There’s something deep in that.

3)      His description of our present lives and how they intersect with heaven and hell.

“Son,’he said,’ ye cannot in your present state understand eternity…That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, “No future bliss can make up for it,” not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory. And of some sinful pleasure they say “Let me have but this and I’ll take the consequences”: little dreaming how damnation will spread back and back into their past and contaminate the pleasure of the sin. Both processes begin even before death. The good man’s past begins to change so that his forgiven sins and remembered sorrows take on the quality of Heaven: the bad man’s past already conforms to his badness and is filled only with dreariness. And that is why…the Blessed will say “We have never lived anywhere except in Heaven, : and the Lost, “We were always in Hell.” And both will speak truly.”  (Chapter 9)

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

So, in the end, maybe our present lives are all about heaven and hell.

Or, maybe heaven and hell are all about our present lives.

Either way, C.S. Lewis has done something I have a hard time doing; writing about an issue where people who disagree think that the writing supports their own worldview.  I have much to learn.

Oh yeah.  And read the book.

Final Verdict:  5/5 stars.  A good read that’ll make you think and hopefully invite you to live a fully alive life.  (Plus it’s short.  Short books are good when you have small children, because it not only takes less time to read, but when they drop it on their toes, it doesn’t do any eternal (see what I did there?) damage.)

I met Justin Trudeau. And Terry, Carolyn, Maria, and Ted.

Byelections are fun.  Instead of over 300 seats being contested across the country, right now there are only four.  So that means plenty of opportunities to meet politicians who usually don’t come to little ole’ Southeast Manitoba.

I heard through a friend that Justin Trudeau was coming to town, and that he was having an unpublicized lunch at a local restaurant.  How often does any leader of a national party come to Steinbach?  So naturally, several of us (conveniently) arranged to have lunch at that restaurant where Trudeau was going to be.

I knew that he’d be meetin’ and a-greetin’ us common folk (he even went to say hi to the dishwashers), so I figured that when he came to our table, this was my best chance to influence federal policy.

So I’d have one shot at it.  What would I say?  What would I ask?  Inquire about the increasing militarism of Canada?  Canada’s dismal record on attaining Pearson’s 0.7% of the GDP to be designated for international development?  Canada’s role in climate change?  Oh the choices…

I said this to Justin (and here we are posing for a picture):

justin

“Please increase the funding for education on First Nation Reserves.”

Why this?

The federal government is in charge of education on reserves, and they budget 7000-8000 dollars per kid per year.  Off reserve, provincial governments budget 10000-13000 dollars per kid per year.  So that means each child going to school on a reserve is getting underfunded by several thousand dollars per year.  For 10 years of schooling, that’s up to 50,000 dollars less per student that’s been invested.  Think of all the supplies, curriculum, libraries, sports equipment, technology, and quality of teaching, not to mention all the communities that don’t have high schools.  The on-reserve graduation rate is 45%.  One of my friends teaching on a reserve says they have good, qualified teachers turn down positions because the salaries are two thirds of what they can make off-reserve.

I mean, really.  Think through the long term ramifications of underfunding education for an entire segment of the population.

(On a related note, how many of us send $30/month to sponsor kids in developing countries?  I know many of us do.  Maybe we should get World Vision or Compassion Canada or Plan or MCC or any other agencies to fund education in Canada… My cute little 5 year old sponsored kid from Ethiopia is now a 17 year old man with a moustache, so I guess I’ll have $30/month freed up fairly soon…)

So, I told Justin to please increase funding for education on reserves.  He agreed, and shared about how First Nations are the fast growing demographic in Canada, have some of the highest poverty rates, and how helping provide a quality education not only helps their communities, but also Canada’s economy.  It sounds like we can kill multiple birds with one stone here…

And then I thought that was it.  But no… the local Liberal candidate, Terry Hayward (who’s a nice guy), overheard me speaking about education.  He called me the next week and said, “Carolyn Bennett, the MP and Liberal Critic for Aboriginal Affairs is in Steinbach.  Do you want to meet her?”

“Why, yes I do Terry… yes I do.”

So I did.  Here we are (along with Liberal Senator Maria Chaput).

photo

I told both of them the same thing, and they both agreed that education levels should be on par with the provincial standards. Carolyn said that they did have a plan in the Kelowna Accord, that it had hard targets for funding and graduation rates, but that was cancelled fairly quickly when the Conservatives won the last election.  And then she also said that people in Ottawa were recently spinning numbers to make the discrepancy not so big (they were including kids from reserves finishing high school  off-reserve, which means that they have to pay the local school boards equivalent tuition).  Sigh.

I am fully aware the Liberals were in power, and then the Conservatives, and that it’s all a game and everyone spins everything to what they want.  But at this point, I don’t care who caused it or who will fix it.  Just close the funding gap already.

I live in a riding that is predominantly Conservative, so I figured I’d also work that angle.  So I went for coffee with Ted Falk (he’s a nice guy too), the local Conservative candidate.

ted

I figured I’d throw him a bone right off the hop and I told him I wasn’t going to hold him responsible for the behaviour of Mike Duffy (smile).

I explained a little bit about the underfunding of education, and he very honestly admitted that he didn’t know very much about it (honesty is so refreshing from politicians), but that he was willing to learn.  While we disagreed about some other things regarding treaties and the Indian Act and the supports the federal government provides, we both agreed that on reserve students should be as equally funded as off reserve students, and that education was probably one of the best ways to ensure a bright future for all Canadians.

So there you go.  I met Justin, Terry, Carolyn, Maria and Ted, and we all agree that the funding gap should be addressed.

Good.  I’m glad we’re all on the same page.  I now look forward to someone doing something about it.

Book Review: Erasing Hell

While reading Erasing Hell, I texted one of my friends the following:  “I want to take a pen and poke my eyes out.”

That pretty much sums up how I feel about this book.

Chan and Sprinkle wrote this book in a few months.  It shows.

Why did they write it in a few months?  Because it’s meant as a rebuttal to Rob Bell’s Love Wins.  In interviews, Chan said that he hopes that his book can be read as a stand alone book.  Poppy cock.  Besides the Bible, he quotes Rob Bell the most, mostly stating why Bell is wrong.  Please call a spade a spade. If you’re going to write a book about why Rob Bell is wrong, please come out and name it as such.  I’d prefer the title:  Why Rob Bell is wrong and I am right. At least that would be more honest.

Piece of Advice #1 for Chan and Sprinkle:
photoIf you are going to write a book that’s a rebuttal of Rob Bell, you should probably come up with a cover design that doesn’t look like a Rob Bell book published five years earlier.  

Piece of Advice #2 for Chan and Sprinkle: If you are going to write a book that’s a rebuttal of Rob Bell’s Love Wins, actually do so.  Don’t just cherry pick a few parts you disagree with.  Write about the entire book.

There are so many reasons why I could barely finish this book.  Let’s start with a few.

1)       Poor Bible reading skills.  Right at the beginning the authors claim that Jesus sends the unbelievers to hell and the believers to heaven in Matthew 25 (p.75).  That is simply not true of this passage.  Jesus separates the sheep and the goats not on belief, but on what they did for the least of these brothers and sisters.   The authors are reading their understanding of hell into the text, when really, they shouldn’t.

2)      Simply a matter of words? They write “Again, it’s very easy to get caught up in arguments and word studies and theological views, and yet miss the main point.” (p. 104)  Umm….  Arguments and word studies and theological views makeup the main point.  The word studies and theological views ARE the point.  That’s why Rob Bell wrote his book.  And that’s why you wrote your book. And that’s why you quote all sorts of theologians and commentaries and do Greek word studies.  WORDS ARE THE POINT!  THERE IS NO POINT WITHOUT WORDS!  WHAT THE BIBLE SAYS ABOUT HELL AND WHAT WE THINK ABOUT HELL IS ALL ABOUT THE WORD STUDIES AND THEOLOGICAL VIEWS!

3)      Who goes to hell?  Maybe this is the same as point #1, but on page 125, they write, “Racism, greed, misplaced assurance, false teaching, misuse of wealth, and degrading words to a fellow human being – these are the things that damn people  to hell?  According to Scripture, the answer is yes.”  I’d agree with this, and so would Jesus, since he said all that.  But once again, where is the question of belief/unbelief? Last time I checked, the only people Jesus condemned to hell were rich people and religious leaders (which doesn’t bode well for me…).

4)      The authors ask (p. 153),  “Are the images of fire, darkness, and worms to be understood literally?”  They answer not necessarily.  They are meant to be metaphors.  Hmmm… So you can use the exact same Scripture passages as both literal and metaphor?  I don’t get how you do that.

5)      The book is 200 pages long (with big font, lots of spacing, and lots of footnotes), of which the last 25 are a chapter from another Francis Chan book.  Who does that?

So, if you like your existing worldview on heaven and hell and are okay reinforcing your beliefs that billions of people are going to hell (and conveniently, not you), then read this book.  It’ll give you some good fodder for your street preaching repertoire.

If you are looking for a deeper read, there are far better resources out there (some of them by authors not named Rob Bell).   I’ll hopefully write about them in the future.

Final Verdict:  1/5 stars, with apologies to the trees who died in the process of printing this book.

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