Niké theology

Niké made “Just do it” a recognized slogan. It almost seems many preachers and counselors ought to wear T-shirts with Niké logos, and pulpits – like NASCAR racers — ought to sport the Niké brand name.

“Have courage (or “faith” or “hope” or “peace”; fill in the blank). You can do it. Here is some equipment to help you: 8 Really Wonderful Ideas to Unleash Dormant [Courage] in Your Life. Do this. And this. And this. Stop doing that. And that. Then do this. You’ll be [brave] in no time!”

Just do it.

“Our members are drifting. What should we do?”

“We need to take them through this “How To” study. It will teach them How To grow (or “love” or “have a better marriage” or “develop faith”; fill in the blank).”

“I’m tired of taking them through How To studies. Why can’t they learn to learn how to How To on their own?”

“They’re just sheep. We need to teach them to learn.”

“OK. So there’re two programs. We’ll do a How To on how to How To, and then they’ll do a How To on how to develop [blank]. Two new programs ought to hold them for a while! There’s lots for them to start doing. I hope they’ll do it.

How often has a counselor secretly wanted to scream this during a counseling session?

I feel so awful. I keep reading these magazines (or “lying to my boss” or “wasting my time”; fill in the blank). I know I ought to stop, and I really want to stop, and I really try to stop, but I …

JUST DO IT!!

I seriously intended to start reading my Bible every day, but I just got caught up with [excuse]. I know I should do it, and I really want to do it, I don’t want to be the kind of person that doesn’t do it, but I…

JUST DO IT!!

Of course, the reason it isn’t shouted at the counselee is because that just wouldn’t be nice, or sensitive, or helpful. The fact that it is legalism is not considered. Nor that it is a legalistic answer to a problem created by legalistic striving. The counselee is aware of the law that condemns their sin, they are aware of their guilt, they know what behaviour is required of them, and they are seeking — at some level, no matter how pitiful — to get there. But their idols are intact, their striving is Christless, and the best outcome they can get from “Niké theology” is to be a more accomplished legalist, a refined and acceptable legalist, a sincerely trying legalist — a Pharisee.

Actually, there are several things wrong with “Niké theology”. It seeks to empower change by addressing the will directly, without reference to the motives within the heart – the “affections” as Edwards spoke of them. Until these heart-inclinations are changed, until the idolatrous affections are killed by the “Expulsive Power of a New Affection” (a must-read article), no real change can occur. “Niké theology” doesn’t undertake any deconstruction of our idols or the cultural “powers” at work.

And it doesn’t declare the news of the Great Rescuer who has accomplished for us, in his life, death, and resurrection, all that we simply could not do.

Yesterday I wrote about the three kinds of legalism. This is the 3^rd kind. It is the teaching of rules and principles without teaching the gospel, without seeing what the Saviour has done and is doing. It leaves people digging deeper into themselves, trying harder, and hoping in the power of these new tools and suggestions and steps we’ve given them. As Mark Lauterbach has recently written (in an article that should be completely read and committed to heart):

“If people leave my preaching confident in the rules and principles I have given them, I have preached a false Gospel. If they leave the room confident in the faithful grace and power of the Savior to work in them as they seek to obey — I have preached the Gospel.”

I was once at a church where the guest speaker was a Christian who had served his country in the Vietnam war, and had suffered terrible things there, and had triumphed with courage and grit and stubborn refusal to give up. His was an amazing, wonderful story and he was an amazing, wonderful man. He was inspiring. He left us all desperately believing we could be more than we had been. As people left the service, they spoke of how they had been convicted of not trying hard enough, inspired to try harder, and how they were certain their lives had been changed.

Changed into better Pharisees, perhaps.

Because, in other words, they left steeped in legalism. “Power” without gospel. Effort without a Saviour. A heart determined that I will be all I can be, not I am nothing apart from Jesus Christ, and all I can be is in Him.

The gospel challenges our idolatries – one of the greatest of which is simply self. Legalism creates a form of obedience but leaves the idolatries intact. Sometimes this can be extremely subtle, both in individual life and in the body life of the church. Tomorrow I’ll try to bring that to more light with my post “If my daughter were a Pharisee.”

‘Til then,

Cast your deadly “doing” down—
Down at Jesus’ feet;
Stand in Him, in Him alone,
Gloriously complete.

If that tweaked your interest, read the whole hymn (you may want to mute your speakers first).

3 kinds of legalism

I don’t know anyone who cheerfully says, “I am a legalist”. I don’t know anyone who admits, “I really like Pharisaism.” And I don’t know any Christians who dismiss the gospel with, “We don’t need so much of Jesus.”

But I know a boatload of legalists who would be happy to raise Pharisee children and who don’t see the need of the gospel or Jesus in normal living. I meet them everywhere, I hear their preaching, I read their books, and I converse with them daily. I find them in prayer meetings, on “family radio”, in Christian bookstores, on the Internet, and in the pew next to me at church.

Too often, I even find one in the mirror.

Over the next few posts, I want to examine the assertions made above, and the concepts behind them.

First, let me talk about some ways of using the terms legalist and legalism. A Christian can sincerely denounce legalism in the same breath they practice it. I’ve seen this countless times, and done it myself. A part of the problem is that there are at least three different kinds of legalism, three different ways we could use the term.

1. The first way we use the term is to speak of salvation by law-keeping, or by “good works.” We denounce legalism of this variety as opposed to salvation by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. We cannot live in such a way as to merit salvation, and we cannot be saved except in the atoning work of Jesus Christ.

On this first point, all evangelicals agree. Evangelicals denounce “works salvation”, and the legalistic thinking that produces the concept.

2. The second way the term is used is in speaking of the heaping up of rules for living, especially rules that go beyond Scripture. This is altogether common in some circles of evangelicalism. People long for someone to “tell me what to do.” Parents believe that “life within the rules” will keep their children safe in the world of sin. Rules are equated with holiness. A dear friend once said to me, when I challenged some rules he had given his teen children, even that “our standards have to be higher than the Bible’s.” It sounds horrible, but he was most sincere; for him, the Bible lays a “lowest common denominator” of Christian living, and the more rules we can add, the more holiness we can have.

Along with this kind of rule-orientation come generous helpings of guilt, manipulation-by-guilt, judgmentalism, and self-righteousness.

An examination of this mindset has recently been well-written by Scott Kay.

3. There is a third type of legalist in evangelicalism – the most common of all. This 3rd-type can be found practicing his brand of legalism at the same moment he is earnestly speaking against legalism of the first or second type. He is devout and sincere and honest, and yet regularly practices and proclaims a legalism that is just as Christless and self-righteous as the legalism that grieves his heart. Any attempt to direct or live the Christian life that does not flow out of the gospel of grace, is legalism. Any ethical teaching or “moralizing”, even that uses Scripture as a framework, that calls upon us to wield our utmost strength towards righteousness but does not ground itself in the work of redemption, the kept promises of God, and the news of our great rescue in Jesus Christ – is legalism.

I want to explain and illustrate this, and outline the alternative, in posts to follow. Some of them in the pipe include “Niké theology and the U.S. Army way of holiness”, “If my daughter were a Pharisee”, “Why family-values radio can be destructive”, and another “Dr. Crane and the Rabbi” post.

Total Church

After reading a review over on Mark Moore’s blog a couple of weeks ago, I knew I wanted to read Total Church.  I’m only through the first section so far, so for a wider and deeper scoop read Mark’s review — but let me tell you that I haven’t read a “church looks like this” book with such excitement in a long time. I haven’t seen a full model of church being done that way Tim and Steve describe it, but the model resonates with me as fully Biblical and (hence, of course) eminently desirable. After I read more, I’ll say more about it. But for now, just to whet your appetite, here are some bullet points from page 34 in the section, “Why Gospel?”

We ask, “Where does God fit into the story of my life?”, when the real question is “Where does my life fit into this great story of God’s mission?”

We want to be driven by a purpose that has been tailored just right for our own individual lives, when we should be seeing the purpose of all life, including our own, wrapped up in the great mission of God for the whole of creation.

We talk about “applying the Bible to our lives.” What would it mean to apply our lives to the Bible instead, assuming the Bible to be the reality — the real story — to which we are called to conform ourselves?

We wrestle with “making the gospel relevant to the world.” But in this story, God is about the business of transforming the world to fit the shape of the gospel.

We argue about what can legitimately be included in the mission that God expects from the church, when we should ask what kind of church God wants for the whole range of his mission.

I may wonder what kind of mission God has for me, when I should be asking what kind of me God wants for his mission.

Isn’t that good stuff?

I’ll write more after I read more. And someday soon I want to talk more about that phrase “make the gospel relevant to the world.” I think that’s already done, and not by us. But I’m intrigued by the way Chester and Timmis put it, that God is transforming the world to fit the shape of the gospel. That’s worth thinking about.

Give me Jesus or I perish

 

“Come, everyone who thirsts,
come to the waters;
and he who has no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without price.
Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,
and your labor for that which does not satisfy?
Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good,
and delight yourselves in rich food.” (Isaiah 55:1-2)

The food market was a collection of tables in the midst of the town square. It was a congested place, with buyers pressing their way between tables piled high with this foodstuff or that, displayed at its best in hopes of attracting a buyer’s attention. Behind the tables merchants stood, shouting their wares, “hawking” their goods, voices raised to drown out the shouts of the competition. It was a raucous, boisterous, crowded place.

But the buyers were emaciated.

Starving, they would move from table to table, desperately throwing down hard-earned coins so they could hungrily sample this food or that. While there were exclamations of delight from place to place, each exclamation drawing an excited crowd, it appeared that buyers never left the marketplace satisfied, or full. They kept milling about and buying and eating, but growing increasingly hungry, and thirsty, and desperate. For all that was sold in the marketplace was cardboard cutouts, scented wax, and beautifully tinted empty bottles.

A new merchant appeared in the midst of the square; his name was Trew. Trew set up a table that overflowed with baked goods and milk and wine and cool, clear water. He began to shout, “Stop buying what is not food. Come here! Come and eat! Come and drink! Bring no money, all is already paid for! Come, buy for free, eat and drink to your heart’s content! No limit, no fineprint, no conditions. Fine wine, fine food! Come, eat and drink! Come!”

Some people looked at him suspiciously. Others noticed that the bottles were plain, and the table old and worn, and so they disdained him. Some offered money, but when it was refused they became angry and stomped away. But some came, gingerly and doubtfully at first, and tasted…and took more and ate again…and ate, and drank…and were satisfied.

For the first time ever. Satisfied. It was good. It was very good.

They looked around at others, and saw that some would not come because Trew’s bottles were plain. So some got together and painted some very nice bottles for the wine and the water. They set the bottles up next to the table and offered them at a nice discount. It was a popular idea, and the bottle-painting business took off, and soon people clamored for the Trew-water and Trew-wine in the nice bottles, and the demand was high, and people rejoiced, and they called the bottles Trew-Bottles and sold them next to Trew’s table and people didn’t notice that they were empty bottles, for they were beautiful, and they were Trew-Bottles! And Trew still shouted for people to “Come and drink!” but some found only Trew-Bottles, and they were excited, but they were not satisfied.

And so it was reported that Trew’s water and wine did not satisfy.

Others took pity on Trew’s poor table, and decided to make a grand covered stand that could be placed near Trew’s table and would look solid and majestic and beautiful, and would attract people to come and shelter in its cover. Within the stand they placed pictures of Trew’s food, and of happy and satisfied people eating Trew’s food, and there were signs directing people to Trew’s table. Many people came, and they “Oohed” and “Aahed” over the pictures, and some went to visit Trew’s table, but others stayed and enjoyed the shade and the pictures of food and drink. They called it the Trew Stand, and so many people came that they had to make it bigger and bigger, and the sounds of sawing and hammering drowned out Trew’s voice, and few visited Trew’s table anymore, but many came to the Trew Stand. Dignitaries would visit Trew Stand and stand upon a special platform and talk about Trew’s food, and tell people that it was very, very good.  Celebrities testified to the wonderful satisfaction they’d found in Trew’s foods.  Seminars were given as to the best ways to enjoy Trew’s food and drink.  Committees were formed to make new Trew Stands in other areas of the marketplace, so others could enjoy hearing about what Trew’s food was like.  And crowds listened.  They  were given Trew Bottles if they were thirsty, and pictures of Trew’s food if they were hungry, and scented wax Trew Food Souvenirs.

But they were not satisfied.

And so it was reported that Trew’s food did not satisfy.

And some would come hungry, searching for the man in the marketplace who offered bread and milk and wine and water without price. And they found many who would talk about Trew’s food. They found choirs who would sing about Trew’s water. They received Trew Guide books and Trew Maps and Trew Foodbags; they found Trew Stands and Trew Bottles and Trew Baskets and Trew Shoes and Trew Shades. But they did not receive Trew’s food and they were not given Trew’s water or wine, and they were hungry, and they grew hungrier.

They cried out, “Where is the food? Or is it a sham? We are hungry, and we are not satisfied!” And they would be admonished for such an attitude, and told that they should love Trew food and Trew water, for it was all that could satisfy. They were taken to a special area of the Trew Stand where they could be taught to appreciate Trew food, and could draw pictures of what it might look like to them, and could color each other’s pictures.

And some died within sight of Trew’s table, but had not found it.

—–

Give me Jesus, or I die.

Give me the gospel, or I perish.

I don’t need you to be hip or relevant. I don’t need advice on how to eat, nor do I need to be admonished that I should love Jesus, and advice on how to love him more. I don’t need descriptions of what people who love Jesus should look like. I don’t need you to dress him up or make his gospel more attractive. I need you to bring me to him in the gospel, to open his glory before my hungry soul, to press the water of life to my thirsty lips.

Sirs, we would see Jesus.

Wanted: more legalism

Found this great quote at “The Gospel-Driven Church” blogsite. Again, you should read the whole article, and look over several others while you’re there. Good stuff!

Here’s a partial quote to whet your appetite:

I have for a while believed that the generic Osteenish faith of popular Christianity is really just legalism warmed over. That seems counterintuitive, because the smiling face that self-help “Christianity” puts on evangelicalism claims to be setting followers free from rules and judgmental religion. But really, by making discipleship about helpful hints and positive power for successful living, it’s really just making a works religion in our new image. In an odd twist, the Oprah-ization of the faith is really just optimistic legalism. Because what is Pharisaical legalism, really, but self-help with bad p.r.?

And people love this stuff. They want to be told religion is not about rules and regulations while at the same time being told each week which four steps (with helpful alliteration) they need to do in order to achieve maximum what-have-you. They want to be reassured that works don’t merit salvation while at the same time convinced salvation is about trying really hard to do things that unlock the power or secret of God’s such-and-such. (And I’ve never seen what is such Good News about following a list of instructions in order to button-push God into granting me His favor.)

Wow… well said!

Mark Lauterbach is one of my great favorites in the blogging world. His are the most thoughtful, reflective, gospel-centered, Christ-energized notes. He outdid himself with this post.

Here’s a partial quote:

So, any accommodation of the Gospel to self-help is a denial of the Gospel. The Gospel is humbling because it treats us as helpless and no one likes that (“What do you think I am, an invalid? I can handle it without your help.”) And when I tell people I am teaching them Christianity and all I am doing is putting Jesus name on some self-help schemes, I am preaching another Gospel.

So, what about all the practical? You do have to DO something, don’t you?

Well, yes, but there is a world of difference between dependent, humble application of the Gospel to life and self-sufficient, self-exalting self-help. If people leave my preaching confident in the rules and principles I have given them, I have preached a false Gospel. If they leave the room confident in the faithful grace and power of the Savior to work in them as they seek to obey — I have preached the Gospel.

You really should read the whole thing.

Jesus Storybook

I’ve got quite a few books, but one of my all-time favorites is this one… and I admit it’s aimed at a slightly younger market 🙂

It’s “The Jesus Storybook Bible” written by Sally Lloyd-Jones, and she really “gets it”. As she says, “every story whispers His name”. We read this at home and my wife and I are constantly as delighted as our daughter is. If you want a very quick primer on Christ-centered, gospel-centered Scripture, get this book.

Until then, here’s one of our favorite portions, reprinted here with the kind permission of both Sally and Zondervan (author and publisher). It’s the book of Isaiah distilled into one letter. I think it’s amazing. Enjoy!

Title: Operation Rescue

Dear Little Flock,

You’re all wandering away from me, like sheep in an open field. You have always been running away from me. And now you’re lost. You can’t find your way back.

But I can’t stop loving you. I will come to find you. So I am sending you a Shepherd to look after you and love you. To carry you home to me.

You’ve been stumbling around, like people in a dark room. But into the darkness, a bright Light will shine! It will chase away all the shadows, like sunshine.

A little baby will be born. A Royal Son. His mommy will be a young girl who doesn’t have a husband. His name will be Emmanuel, which means “God has come to live with us.” He is one of King David’s children’s chidren’s children. The Prince of Peace.

Yes, Someone is going to come and rescue you! But he won’t be who anyone expects.

He will be a King! But he won’t live in a palace. And he won’t have lots of money. He will be poor. And he will be a servant. But this King will heal the whole world.

He will be a Hero! He will fight for his people, and rescue them from their enemies. But he won’t have big armies, and he won’t fight with swords.

He will make the blind see, he will make the lame leap like a deer! He will make everything the way it was always meant to be.

But people will hate him, and they won’t listen to him. He will be like a Lamb – he will suffer and die.

It’s the Secret Rescue Plan we made – from before the beginning of the world!

It’s the only way to get you back.

But he won’t stay dead – I will make him alive again!

And, one day, when he comes back to rule forever, the mountains and trees will dance and sing for joy! The earth will shout out loud! His fame will fill the whole earth – as the waters cover the sea! Everything sad will come untrue. Even death is going to die! And he will wipe away every tear from every eye.

Yes, the Rescuer will come. Look for him. Watch for him. Wait for him. He will come!

I promise.

 

From “The Jesus Storybook Bible” by Sally Lloyd-Jones, pp.146-149

Gospel: News or Advice?

I’m not sure who originated the worthy saying that the gospel is news, not advice, but I recently heard Tim Keller make some comments on the idea that were very helpful. They were in his message “What does Gospel centered ministry look like?” given at the Gospel Coalition meetings earlier this year. Keller credited D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones with describing it this way: when a King takes his troops off to do battle, and then sends word back to the city, the kind of word sent back depends on what happened in battle. If the King won a great victory, he sends back news — exciting, celebratory news. There may very well be some strategy and re-ordering of troops included in the message, but it’s thrust will be “Good news! We won!”

However, if the King has suffered a loss, the word coming back will be advice and strategy — “Move troops here! Bring in the supplies! Send more equipment!”, that sort of thing.

As Keller did, so do I find this clarifying. Are our sermons filled mostly with advice — strategies for spiritual growth, helps on dealing with this issue and that, ethical exhortations, etc. — or do they begin with the Great News of what Jesus has accomplished? The gospel enters our life with the good news that, although we cannot live out the life we know we should, Christ has accomplished victory on our behalf, and now we can respond with life by grace.

Nothing here tells us that advice or exhortation has no place in the message; quite the opposite. They follow, they naturally and biblically must follow, the dynamic proclamation of what Christ has done to secure our lives.

Is the victory — Christ’s, not mine — heard in your preaching?