Defending My Beef

In the comments from the last post, there were a couple of things that came up. My next post will most likely deal with the nature of worship. However, both Benson and Feltzy brought up issues of pacifism (I'm going to leave Rick Warren alone, but if anyone would like a paper where I begin to outline some of my "beef" with him, let me know - it's a paper I delivered at a conference in April).

However, to answer some of Feltzy's questions, I feel like I have to dig deeper than just to issues of peace. I have to dig into thoughts on method, specifically my method of doing theology. These questions seem to consistently come up, so why not take a little time to address them.

First off, I unabashedly "do" theology from an evangelical, Wesleyan perspective. This is for two reasons - first, I think that it is Scriptural (thus, the evangelical part of me) and second, I think that my experience as a human leads me to places of hope and striving after more of God by God's grace. I do not experience myself as a robot or as preprogrammed. I also experience myself in the full grace of God at times, "touching" the holy life. For these reasons, I do theology as an evangelical Wesleyan.

What is an evangelical Wesleyan in the Crawford sense? Well, first, I believe that Scripture has a place of authority in my theology. This is a long discussion, but essentially, I think that at some point I have to deal with Scripture when I do theology, probably needing to use Scripture as my rubric for the metaphors I use when doing theology. Second, I believe that tradition is important. Obviously, I am much indebted to those people (in my tradition, we include both men and women) who went on before me in the Christian walk, not only as theologians but as practitioners and lay persons. We are a tradition that believes in learning from those before us, even if not "in" our immediate tradition. Lastly, I do theology from my experience. I am learning more and more that for me, this is key. The experience of a person allows the person to "use" the metaphors so prevalent in Scripture and to read traditions in a certain way. However, this is much more than I want to say here.

With this in mind, when I do theology, I am not looking for some sort of ultimate truth or to give final answers. I am looking to lead people closer to God and to better understanding of God. I am trying to give people the tools necessary to encounter God in some way. And, as I do this, I believe that this encounter must fundamentally change people, transforming them in some way. The goal then becomes not for the truth of God, but for the grace of God that allows the person to grow closer to God, living in God and leading to a life where God is loved and the neighbor is loved.

And, so, the goal of theology, in my opinion (and Augustine's and Wesley's) is love of God and love of neighbor. This is the rubric under which Christianity does theology.

With this in mind, I believe that God, through the discipline of theology, makes a call upon one's life where one must respond to God. This is an ethical response in that it requires action on one's part. To love God and to love neighbor is not something that can be done by an individual, alone. No, to love neighbor and to love God means that the individual must encounter others. The response necessitates the going outside of oneself and interacting with others - the ethical response becomes clear here.

For me, this is where my pacifism begins to come into play. God has made a call on my life (and I believe all lives) that requires me to love the other, no matter what. For me, it is completely irreconcilable to say that God has called me to love this other person, and then to go to war with them, trying to kill them. To love the other is to put down my gun, and to let the other kill me. This is the only ethical response, in my opinion.

Interestingly enough, I believe that this is the ethical response of Jesus in the Incarnation. God's call upon the life of Jesus leads to the death on the cross. Jesus never once fights the authorities that are trying to kill Him, but only calls them to a deeper love of their God and of their neighbors. Jesus goes, not willingly, but completely selflessly into the arms of his captors, allowing Himself to be killed. What I find most interesting about this is the fact that God does not rescue Jesus in this place. God is notoriously absent at this point. God is present in Jesus at the cross, but absent in the other two persons of the Trinity. (With this, I find no hope that in laying down my gun, God will somehow save me. The call is to die and to trust God that God is God and that that is enough.)

The argument often brought against this is that humans are sinful and cannot attain this. However, appealing to my Wesleyan tradition, I believe fully in the full overcoming of sin in this life - both individual sin and institutional/social sin. So, I fully affirm the notion that sin can be eradicated and that we can live at peace, full peace.

So, I've written much to much while trying to do other things. I've probably raised more questions than answers, but this is how it goes.