DEBATE: Hitchens vs. Craig, April 5, 2009

SUNDAY, April 5. 2009
4:00 pm
at
Valley Covenant Church
3636 W. 18th Avenue
Eugene, OR 97405

http://www.valleycovenant.org/events/doesgodexist.htm

Christopher Hitchens, author of "God Is Not Great," is one of the most outspoken atheists of the last century. In this debate, he squares off against William Lane Craig, one the finest Christian philosophers of our time.

We invite you to join us for an exclusive web rebroadcast of this debate, which takes place live at Biola University the night before.
This debate is sold out at its original site and will not be televised. The webcasts are expensive, so this is the best way to see it now. We will give you a comfortable seat, a hot beverage and some munchies, as we watch the debate on a big screen. Then afterward, if you like, you're invited to stay and talk about it all with other interested and interesting folks.

Everyone is welcome, regardless of which "side" you might be on. We would like this to be an opportunity for open and honest sharing of ideas and an airing of the best arguments and support for and against belief in God.

There is no charge for this event, although donations to the ministries of Valley Covenant will be accepted. Please contact us with any questions or to RSVP at (541) 345-0055, but anyone is welcome to drop-in whether or not you called beforehand

Performative Utterances

Philosopher J.L. Austin pointed out that there are statements which are "performative utterances." That is, "there are there are certain things one can do just by saying what one is doing." For example, "I promise" or "I take Thee to be my lawfully wedded husband."

Today, at worship, we witnessed a performative utterance, one exhortation, and one "walk the talk."

Yesterday the papers announced the foreclosure of a multi-million dollar real estate development in which X had a large part. He has lost everything. Today X stood at the pulpit to read 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10:

We always thank God for all of you and continually mention you in our prayers. We remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.

For we know, brothers and sisters loved by God, that he has chosen you, because our gospel came to you not simply with words but also with power, with the Holy Spirit and deep conviction. You know how we lived among you for your sake. You became imitators of us and of the Lord, for you welcomed the message in the midst of severe suffering with the joy given by the Holy Spirit. And so you became a model to all the believers in Macedonia and Achaia. The Lord's message rang out from you not only in Macedonia and Achaia--your faith in God has become known everywhere. Therefore we do not need to say anything about it, for they themselves report what happened when we visited you. They tell how you turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead--Jesus, who rescues us from the coming wrath.

My spine tingled. X was imitating Paul all right, and the gospel was coming full circle, in power through his reading of the Word. As the Lord's message rang out from X, he became a model to the believers in Eugene.

Then Steve preached on Matt. Matthew 22:15-22, "Tax Time."
It's that famous passage about "rendering unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's." IMO it was one of his more creative sermons, telling the story from the point of view of the denarius that Jesus held. The sermon concluded:

"This world is better when people like you remember what I learned that day in His Hand. When you remember how God owns you, how He both made you and then bought you again with the blood of His own Son, you will care much less about owning me. You will simply delight, like I did, to be used for His purpose, to answer His call and His desire.

So if, by His good purpose, I should come into your possession, do me a favor. Please don’t hold me tightly. That’s not His way. That’s not what I am for any longer. I don’t really belong to you. Nor do you yourself even truly belong to you. We are not our own. We are His. So do me a favor. Give me up. Give me away. Give me away for Jesus. And then we both will have known the joy of resting in His Hand for awhile. May that gracious Hand bless you.

But just before he got up to preach, someone handed him a card, and Steve announced, "Whoever has a white Honda, you need to go to your car. Someone has broken your front window has taken your purse from the front seat." Up jumped Y. and her son Z., and a couple of men from the congregation to accompany them. We all met in the parking lot, in front of her new Civic hybrid. There stood a neighbor who related how she saw a man on a bicycle come between the cars, smash the window and grab the purse.

"But it wasn't a purse! " Y. exclaimed. "It was Z's lunchbox! He was going to Mt. Pisgah to do his community service after church, and that was his lunch!" Broken safety glass glittered on the pavement. "Why would anyone take a lunchbox? And look--here's a shopping bag on the floor with a birthday present in it. Why did they take the lunchbox, and not the present?"

She stared in disbelief, then exclaimed, "Just think, of all the people that this could happen to, isn't it best that it's me" [she is a professional] "and of all the times that it could happen to me, isn't it incredible that it was today, when I am surrounded by my church family?"

S. and W. got a broom, dustpan and bucket, and began cleaning up the shattered glass. Someone else offered her a car to use until hers could be fixed.

And now as I reflect on the morning, I realize how blessed I am to live and serve with a people who are receiving God's Word and living Christ's life. They are choosing to be used for His purpose, to answer His call and His desire. They are letting Him sweep away their brokenness. They are seeking to have their words and actions form a seamless garment, so that the saying is the doing and the doing is the saying.

Our Good Shepherd Carries His Lamb Home

A. went to be with Jesus about 3 am this morning. At last, she is free of chemo, of ports and lines, of nausea and pain. I have been blessed to be with her in life, and death, and look forward to the day when we are reunited in Christ.

Oh let the Son of God enfold You
With His Spirit and His love
Let Him fill your heart
And satisfy your soul
Oh let Him have those things that hold you
And His Spirit like a dove
Will descend upon your life
And make you whole

Jesus, oh Jesus
Come and fill Your lambs
Jesus, oh Jesus
Come and fill Your lambs

Oh come and sing this song with gladness
As your hearts are filled with joy
Lift your hands in sweet surrender to His name
Oh give Him all your tears of sadness
Give Him all your years of pain
And you’ll enter into life in Jesus’ name

Ways God Shows Up

Our brother in Christ, Ultra Rev has a report of amazing things happening in Lakeland.

Steve Hickey justifiably wonders: "Before you judge what is unfolding in Florida, ask yourself this question… what will it look like when God shows up?"

Well, God is certainly able to show up however He wants. A couple of His preferred ways is through Word and Sacrament. Peter Kreeft lists 11 more ways here. It seems to me that Hickey is ignoring all these ways God is already showing up, and that troubles me. Am I being too judgemental? Am I wrong to be bothered?

I teach at a Pentecostal Bible college, so it's not like I'm new to any of this. I'm told that when people fall down in chapel and speaking "in tongues" that that is also a way that God is showing up. Nothing would please me more than to have the Lord "show up" and heal our friend A. from the cancer that has riddled every part of her body!

The problem is, though, that if He does, her husband will become a follower of Magic Jesus. They come from another culture that is heavy into "bargaining" with God, rather than receiving from Him. The husband wants a god that he can manipulate; a faith that he can wear as an amulet. His hope is centered on this life, this world, on material things.

There is nothing--not even Jesus--that is more important to him than his wife. He will believe anything, do anything, sacrifice anything to anyone or for any object that will heal A. Aslan or Tash, Jesus or Allah or Buddha or Donald Trump--it's all the same to him, if they'll give him what he most desires.

Doesn't this make a difference?

It's this very attitude that makes Hank Hannagraff's concern mine as well:

He says participants leave believing they are truly healed, but back in the real world, they find nothing has changed. "That's when they start thinking God has abandoned them or doesn't love them," Hanegraaff said.

I'm doing a lot of wondering these days.

What will happen if A. is not healed? Will X be going with Momma D. and me to wash A's body, so that she will not have to be touched by strangers? (That was the thing that bothered her most about dying, next to not being there for her little son, M.) Where will X be for M, after his mother is gone?

And furthermore: has God not been showing up for the past year as Steve and I (and others) have been visiting, praying, reading, and singing with A.? Have we just been spinning our wheels? Did we pray the "wrong" way, so that our prayers for healing weren't heard? Did we not have enough faith? Was God unable to heal A. as long as she was under the care of doctors? Is what a charismatic evangelist (who blew through town) said to A. months ago true, that her first baptism in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit wasn't enough; that she needed to be "completed" and receive a second baptism in the Spirit?

Steve Hickey wants the power.

A. and I want Jesus. And His Father. And His Spirit.

Please continue to pray with me that H. will, too.

Take the world, but give me Jesus,
All its joys are but a name;
But His love abideth ever,
Through eternal years the same.

Refrain

Oh, the height and depth of mercy!
Oh, the length and breadth of love!
Oh, the fullness of redemption,
Pledge of endless life above!

Take the world, but give me Jesus,
Sweetest comfort of my soul;
With my Savior watching o’er me,
I can sing though billows roll.

Refrain

Take the world, but give me Jesus,
Let me view His constant smile;
Then throughout my pilgrim journey
Light will cheer me all the while.

Refrain

Take the world, but give me Jesus.
In His cross my trust shall be,
Till, with clearer, brighter vision,
Face to face my Lord I see.

Refrain

THY will be done...?

“Human love has little regard for the truth. It makes the truth relative, since nothing, not even the truth, must come between it and the beloved person." --Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together.


H. concluded his fast last night. He says that Momma D. was sleeping with A. when A. got up our of bed in the middle of the night. Then next time he told me the story, he said she got up twice. He says he's got a connection to God and that he believes God has done a miracle. "I had a feeling this morning."

Today H. dismissed hospice. He told the hospice doctor he wasn't going to watch his wife starve to death, so has been feeding her meat broth and papaya. He ended her morphine. A. had a bowel movement which he takes to have been a sign of her healing.

X, a woman from a charismatic church has been with them all afternoon. She has told H. that he should believe God is doing a miracle. "God created A. and knows how her intestines should work. They were meant to digest food! If she vomits up what you give her, rebuke Satan in the name of Jesus! And don't believe those doctors. They don't believe in miracles, so what do you expect them to do?"

I stepped into this just as X was getting ready to leave. She sized me up as One of Those Who Aren't Spiritual, or at least Spiritual Enough. Sigh. Relationships and long obediences can't compete with prophetic preaching and dramatic experiences.

"I'm not going to allow anyone who doesn't believe in miracles in this house," H. announced. (This is just a variation on his default position, Postive Thinking. I wondered if it was meant as a warning for Steve and me.) "I've had enough of mortuaries and talk of death." (Steve has spent the last week helping H. make funeral preparations.)

While I certainly believe God is able to do miracles, I must confess my unbelief: it doesn't seem like He intends to take away A's cancer and give her 40 more years on this planet. I am certain her healing will occur, but I'm not cure it will happen the way H. is currently demanding it.

I am also disturbed for A's sake. She sat up in bed, and took several puffs of a cigarette, but she seemed out of it. She complained she was in pain, so I massaged her back. H. reset the morphine machine, which had been turned off, exclaiming proudly, "She hasn't had any morphine for four hours!"

He and Mamma D. carried on a lively conversation in Farsi, never once including me, which has never before been their practice. A, still sitting up, softly whispered some things in Farsi to them. It was clear they didn't want any singing; so I blessed A. with Aaron's blessing (which caused H. to stop and frown as I said, "the Lord give you peace"), prayed briefly and kissed her goodbye.

I am perplexed and frustrated. Am I missing something wonderful here? Or have H. and Mamma D. gone off the deep end? At what point does one pray for a miracle, and at what point do we pray, "thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven?"

Any advice?

The Sign of Kathy

While visiting A. on Friday, there was a minute where Momma D. left the room. A. was weak but lucid, and she urgently whispered, "How long will it take?"

"I don't know. That's not for us to say. But there used to be a woman in our congregation who was a hospice nurse. Her name was Kathy, but she's now in Alaska. She would have been able to tell you all about what to expect. She used to talk about how the dying people she was caring for--at the very end-- would often see bright lights, relatives and friends who had already passed on, welcoming them into the next world. How I wish she were here for you to talk to."

Our conversation ended abruptly, as Mamma D. re-entered the room.

The next morning I made Steve and Joanna their usual Saturday morning breakfast: waffles made from scratch. We were just about sit sit down to eat when the phone rang. I expected it to be a realtor, wanting to show our house, but the voice was vaguely familiar.

"Hi Beth! It's Kathy N. I'm here in Eugene and I was wondering if you'd like to get together to go for a walk."

Kathy? Kathy! Here in Oregon, come all the way from Alaska's Kodiak Island. I now know exactly how that Ethipian eunuch must have felt when Philip showed up alongside his chariot. Seems the Spirit had been pressing her to quit her job as a school nurse to volunteer for a year with Medical Teams International. She was here to talk with people from the organization and iron out the details of her position as a mental health counselor for disasters and areas in crisis.

The Lord has a way of weaving lots of disparate threads together, doesn't he? Kathy and I marvelled at how He had orchestrated our reunion, and then we had a wonderful walk. She listened patiently as I spilled the entire story and offered some wise advice born of her experience. Then we both went to visit A. Unfortunately A. was exhausted and unable to converse, but Kathy played a borrowed guitar and we both sang for her.

Mamma D. has demanded a miracle. The only sign she will accept is her daughter's healing. H., too, is frantically searching for a miracle. He has heard a story about someone in Egypt who was healed of his terminal cancer when three of his friends fasted for three days. Today H. begins his fast, convinced that somehow it will force God's hand.

Matthew 12:39-39
Then some of the Pharisees and teachers of the law said to him, "Teacher, we want to see a miraculous sign from you."
He answered, "A wicked and adulterous generation asks for a miraculous sign! But none will be given it except the sign of the prophet Jonah.

It seems to be the case that it is only when we first accept the sign of Jonah--the resurrected Christ-- that God is ready to give us other signs, signs which in turn point back to Him. This weekend, A. and I were given the sign of Kathy. Sadly, H. and Momma D. couldn't receive it.

Matthew 12:39-39
What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived—these things God has prepared for those who love him"—for God has revealed them to us by his Spirit.

I pray for the day when H and Mamma D.'s hearts will be opened, so that their ears might hear and their eyes might see.

Life is Not Fair

It's not fair that H. should be losing his beautiful young wife. It's not fair that M. will grow up without his mother around. It's not fair that Mamma D. is watching her daughter die in a foreign land, where she is deprived of the support of friends and family.

On the other hand, this life is not fair, but this is not our only life.

Before something can be broken, it must exist as a whole. Before something falls, it must have be balanced. Evil is always a privation of good: a twisting, an absence, a deprivation of something positive, real, true and beautiful. The good news is that we have a Lord who loves what He has created so much that He is in the process of healing that which fell, and repairing that which is broken.

I believe friendship is one of the ways He is accomplishing that.

C.S. Lewis writes in The Four Loves:

For a Christian, there are, strictly speaking, no chances. A secret Master of the Ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples,"Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you," can truly say to every group of Christian friends, "You have not chosen one another, but I have chosen you for one another." The Friendship is not a reward for our discrimination and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each the beauties of all the others. They are no greater than the beauties of a thousand other men; by Friendship, God opens our eyes to them. They are, like all beauties, derived from Him, and then, in a good Friendship, increased by Him through the Friendship itself, so that it is His instrument for creating as well as revealing. At this feast it is He who has spread the board, and it is He who has chosen the guests. it is He, we may dare to hope, who sometimes does, and always should preside. Let us not reckon without our Host.

I shall always remember this afternoon, sitting between my two dear friends, J and A, and in the presence of our Mutual Friend, Jesus. May His peace be ours tonight, with each of us receiving the sort of healing we need.

A. hears the truth

Finally.

Steve just called with the news. A's doctor has admitted that there is nothing more he can do.

Steve was there this morning when the doctor came to speak with H., and H. asked Steve to be with him for that talk. (That alone was reason to praise God.) Steve was able to help the doctor to convince H. that any further treatments will increase and prolong her suffering. It was bitter news for H.

H. told the doctor that in Iranian culture, one does not speak of dying, particularly to the person who is ill. The doctor bluntly responded that this is the U.S. and he has a responsibility to tell his patients what their condition is, which is what he proceeded to do. A. made it clear she does not want any more surgery, or feeding tubes. The doctor is recommending hospice, but it sounds like she will stay in the hospital for a few more days. Does she even have that long, I wonder?

Momma D. is a mess...she was under the impression they could get A. well enough so she could go back to Iran to see her brothers and then die. The doctor said absolutely no way will this happen.

I am going to get cleaned up and go see A. Perhaps now we can speak openly, before her family, about what lies ahead for her in Christ, instead of whispering.

Last night I ran into a friend who had been visiting A. She was weeping. "I am so angry with God," she confessed. "He could have done a miracle here, and then they would have believed. That whole family could have been won for Jesus!"

"Yes, but which Jesus?" I mused. "Magic Jesus? They've heard enough of him from some of H's friends. Power Jesus? But that would have just been Allah with a different name. Dying and rising Jesus? Now that is the Jesus who is the Truth."

Now that A. has heard the truth, may she soon see Him.

A. in the hospital

A. hasn't eaten in a week. She is wafer-thin, weak and in horrific agony. Even in the morphine doesn't seem to penetrate the deepest crevices of pain. She lies in her hospital bed, moaning, only semi-conscious.

Lord Jesus, show yourself to be the Good Shepherd that You are, by gathering this lamb in your arms and leading her to greener pastures. Just a year ago she saw you beckoning to her. Now may she see you open the gate, as she awaits her full redemption.

The birth pangs are too hard! Shorten her labor and deliver her from the evil of this cancer. Bring her to that place where there are no more tears, where Your peace replaces all pain.

In your name we pray,

Amen

The Gift of Listening to Difficult Things

A. is dying, and she can't talk about it with her family.

She spent two days in the hospital last week, after passing out for so long with such shallow respiration and reflexes that her family feared she had died. She had a conversation with Steve, seeking "permission" not to fight anymore (see below). Today I visited, and she whispered to me that she was ready.

Momma D. and Momma B. were in the room with us, so A. couldn't speak freely. She told me, quickly, that she had broached the subject of her death with her husband, H. a few days ago. "When I am gone, the bed will seem empty, so take M. (their little son) to sleep with you," she pleaded. But H. couldn't stand it. "Don't talk that way! You must fight! You're driving me crazy!"

H. didn't sleep any that night, and when he got up he had a headache all day. When A. heard this in the morning, she apologized, and said, "I was just kidding." But she really wasn't.

How difficult it must be to hope in Christ, and not be able to share that hope openly with those who are closest to you. A's family is all insisting that she continue to fight, and they refuse to speak with her about death. (This seems to be a common cultural practice. After complications from a stroke, Arezoo's own father was sent home by his doctor, who told the family that he was just fine. Twenty minutes after his return, he died.)

Brothers and sisters in Christ, let us not take our freedom for granted. We have a risen Savior! Why should we fear speaking to one another about death? Perhaps the best gift we might give to a friend or family member who is dying might just be our willingness to listen.

Prayer for a Happy Death

a Prayer written by Cardinal Newman.

O my Lord and Savior, support me in my last hour by the strong arms of Thy sacraments, and the fragrance of Thy consolations. Let Thy absolving words be said over me, and the holy oil sign and seal me; and let your own body be my food, and Thy blood my sprinkling; and let Thy Mother Mary come to me, and my angel whisper peace to me, and Thy glorious saints and my own dear patrons smile on me, that in and through them all I may die as I desire to live, in Thy Church, in Thy faith, and in Thy love. Amen.

My Jesus, mercy.

Bad news from three fronts today, including word from Steve that A. is even weaker now, constantly wracked with pain and immobile on the sofa. He visited her this afternoon, and she gathered enough strength to ask her mom to leave the room so she could talk one on one with Steve.

"Pastor, will Jesus take care of M. (her son) if I die?"

"Yes, A. Jesus loves little children, and He will care for M."

"Then please pray for me to die."

So he did. And so I am praying, as well:

Father, please open the door for A. so that she might be released from her suffering and find rest in Your arms. May she pass quickly and gently from this world, and as she does, please comfort her family and provide a way for M. to remember her fierce love for him. May You be glorified through her death, even as she glorified You in her life.

Easter with A .and H.

Sunday, after the joy of celebrating Christ's resurrection through worship and our traditional congregational Easter dinner, several of us went over to visit A. and H.

As I have written earlier, A is recovering from her gallbladder surgery and the news that her abdomen is inflamed, and filled with liquid. She is awaiting results of a biopsy, but her enzyme count seems to indicate a return of cancer. She has been extremely depressed, so I thought it might be good for some of us to stop by, to bring her a lily and our love.

J, ML and CS came, and CS's dear little son, E., who is only a month or so older than A's son, M. They had gone trick or treating together last Halloween. But M. has been sensing the tension and so has been reticent to engage with people. He did, however, enjoy the Easter basket we brought, as well as the chunky preschooler's Bible that CS gave him.

We gathered around A. to sing and pray. Mamma B and Mamma D. remained in their chairs, but H. joined right in, "adding his energy." That really took a lot of courage on his part, to enter into a circle of Christians, in front of his mother, a devout Muslim married to a sayed! A. was distant, indifferent. She gave us perfunctory thanks and retreated back into her pain.

The other VCC folks left, but Steve and I remained a bit longer, seated on either side of the sofa, with A. between us. While her family conversed together in Farsi, A. confessed to us in a flat voice that she felt she had lost her faith. I noticed that she was no longer wearing the gold cross H. had given her a year ago, upon her baptism. Her eyes were fixed and empty.

Now A. takes the Bible very seriously (probably because as a Muslim she was trained to take the Koran very seriously.) So Steve responded to her disclosure by pointing out, "The Bible says that even if we are faithless, God cannot be." We then observed how Jesus felt deserted on the cross; how that even HE felt like God wasn't with him at that time of his greatest suffering. So, if A. was feeling afraid and abandoned, that is exactly what Jesus experienced, as well. But the good news is that Jesus also experienced resurrection, so we can experience it, too.

A. sat motionless, for a long time silently weighing our words. Then she turned to Steve with great resolution and whispered: "Pastor I want to testify. When I die I want to be buried here, in U.S. like a Christian. I want the carpet [a carpet her mom brought from Iran, with the image of Christ and the cross woven in it] laid over me. I not want my mother to wear black longer than seven days [Persian custom dictates mourning for two years.] I want my brother to go ahead and get married after 40 days."

"Lord I believe: help my unbelief. "

Somehow, the Spirit had worked through this conversation to bring A. to the point of actually speaking about her death. This was a milestone, as she has been under pressure to act her role according to the Iranian cultural script which prohibits telling anyone they are mortally ill. Moreover, H. has constantly been pushing her to "think positive thoughts," in other words, not to acknowledge death as a real possibility. This explains why they have both vehemently rejected any talk about Hospice.

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me."

Steve told A. about his mom's funeral and how it was held at church, with singing and witness to her resurrection in Christ. A. was enthusiastic about that idea. So we began a brief conversation about the things each of us would like to have at our funerals... the music, the scripture, and other little details. I think that calmed her, to see that Christians can talk about death and not be afraid, because our hope is in Christ. What better time than Easter to remember that no grave can contain Him or those who trust Him!

"Now that that is done," I said when I sensed she had finished speaking, "let's think about the life we have been given right now." A. then opened a card CS had left, and another one that we had invited everyone who was at the church Easter dinner to sign. She brightened, and smiled. M. ran up to H's mother waving his new Bible and calling for her to read it to him. Who knows how the Lord will work through all this?

S.A., H's father, then shuffled into the room. I was greatly encouraged to see him even able to walk, and talk, after his stroke. Mercifully, he and Mamma B. had been able to fly back to Eugene from Utah on a commercial airline direct flight. Poor H.! He is being squeezed on all sides, what with A's cancer, his father's stroke, and his own health and financial problems. Who knows how the Lord is working through all this?

Jesus said to them, "My Father is always at his work to this very day, and I, too, am working."

Even on Easter Sunday.

A's Descent

It is ironic that A. should tell me, on this Holy Saturday, that her enzyme count has skyrocketed from 21 to 360. (37 is normal). She is like the living dead. Her voice is dull. She cannot/(will not?) move. She has descended into her own Hades. My prayer is that she will discover that Someone has made it there before her, and waits to lift her out:
“Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light”.

The Trinity, N.T .Wright, and Mohammad

Visiting today with A. and her Muslim "seeker" mother, Mamma D. and her deeply Muslim mother-in law, Mamma B. At one point the conversation turned to things theological. It was held simultaneously in English and Farsi translation. Mamma B. was actively involved; Mamma B. listened, but didn't say much.

A:" So Mamma D. wants to know if God has children.

Me: (seeing where this is headed) Well, Jesus is His Son...and the Bible does call us His children....

A: But then God is not one?

Me: (frantic: how do you explain the Trinity, to Muslims, when you yourself cannot speak Farsi? Lord, thanks for the chance to speak about You. Help me not to mess it up!) No, God is one; he is one substance, but three persons....He is so great, so powerful, so amazing that who He is not be contained in just one person. (hopefully that will connect with the Muslim reverence for God's sovereignty and power.)

It's like an egg. (good old eggs!) There's the yolk and the white and the shell. It's all egg, but the yolk is not the white, and the white is not the shell, and the shell is not the yolk...but the yolk is egg; the white is egg, and the shell is egg.

A: (Smiles broadly as she translates my words, seeing that Mamma D. is understanding them and clearly entertaining the possibility that God could be one, and yet three.) So there are not three gods.

Me: NO! Not three gods! Only one God! Muslims say there is only one God; and Christians agree! But we say He is three persons, not just one person.

A: So Jesus is God. Muslims think he is just a prophet, think He is not God. But Christians believe He is really God.

(conversation continues, Mamma B. eventually leaves)

----------------------------------------------------------------

A: (still translating, with a doubtful look) Do Christians believe in reincarnation?

Me: No. We believe in resurrection.

A: So do Muslims. We believe after we die we either go to up to heaven or down to hell. [At this point the reader might want to read this.]

Me: Hmm. Well, we both believe in an afterlife, don't we. Christians think that when we die we go to be with God, but that when He is ready He will give us back new, even better bodies than these, and He will come and live with us. (I breathe a prayer of relief: Thank goodness for Bishop Wright's recent interview in Time! )

A: Muslims don't think that; they think we go live with God.

Me: Well, they're on the right track, but they just need to know that God loves his creation so much that someday, when Satan is gone and there are no more tears or pain, He will come "down" and live with us. Just like in the beginning, when He walked with Adam and Eve in the garden. (Remembering the Time article, it is clear to me that the picture of heaven Maria Shriver paints has much more in common with Mamma B's vision than with the Bible!)

A: (quite satisfied, and explaining this to her mother) We don't need to be afraid of God! Jesus is his Son. He makes us friends with God.

Me: Yes! (remembering Luke 10:20-22, "I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure.

All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows who the Son is except the Father, and no one knows who the Father is except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him."

A: When I was Muslim I always afraid of God. I fear God. Beth, I confess something. I think I love Jesus more than God (she meant the Father). Is that bad?

Me: Well, A., it's understandable, since all your life when you think of God you think of someone scary. But Jesus comes to show us we don't have to be scared of His Father.

A: Mamma D. wants to know: if Jesus protect us from his angry Father we can do bad things and never be punished?

Me: (Aha! This is why I believe grace is infused/imparted, not simply imputed! ) Well, Jesus is not like a blanket that hides us from an angry Father, so God doesn't see us and gets fooled. No. Jesus not only comes to tell us how his father wants us to be, he came and showed us. And he comes and lives in us, when we invite him to. That means that His goodness and truth and beauty start "growing" in us, and we begin to be more and more like Him, not sinning. So when God looks at us, He sees we are not perfect, but he also sees Jesus working inside us to get rid of sin, and that makes Him happy.

A: (suddenly downcast.) Beth. I confess. I jealous. Mamma D. bring back DVD of my family, and they all dancing and happy and beautiful. And I jealous. I want to know why God not let me be healthy, and beautiful. I not beautiful. I am in pain. Very bad pain, all the time. God is greater than Satan! Why he not tell Satan to stop hurting me?

Me: (Oh no, the problem of evil!) Oh A! Someday God will stop Satan. It's just not time yet. (Just this past Sunday the lectionary included Matthew 4:1-11. I try to build on that.) Remember in Matthew when Satan tempts Jesus? Jesus is hungry, and Satan tries to get him to change stones into bread...and He tries to get Jesus to jump...

A: (Brightening) Oh yes! I remember that. I love that story. He try to get Jesus to jump from high building but Jesus say NO!

B: Well, A., if Satan is so bold that he tries to tempt Jesus, and God didn't stop him from tempting His own Son, then who are you and I to demand He stop Satan for us right now? The Bible says someday God will throw Satan into a lake of fire and he will be gone forever, and God himself will wipe away every tear from our eyes, and there will finally be no more sin or pain."

We wound up praying together: A in the middle of the sofa, Momma D. on her left, me on her right. We thanked God for bringing A's family to be with her, and asked him to help her endure her pain, and even take it from her, if that were possible. We asked him to forgive us of our sins, and help us to be more like His son. Momma D. couldn't understand our English, but I think--I pray-- she was in agreement with us.

Church and Culture Conference: "Christianity and Politics"

The 19th Church and Culture Conference , a joint ministry of Valley Covenant Church and Church of the Servant King, Eugene, OR, will be February 15-17, 2008:

"Christianity & Politics"

with speaker Chad Pecknold

C. C. Pecknold, PhD (Cambridge) teaches in the Department of Theology at Loyola College in Maryland. Previously he was a research fellow in the Centre for Advanced Religious and Theological Studies at the University of Cambridge (UK) and prior to that worked in the U.S. Senate Chaplain's Office. Pecknold is the author of Transforming Postliberal Theology (T & T Clark, 2005) and the editor of Liturgy, Time and the Politics of Redemption (Eerdmans, 2006). His next book, Christianity and Politics in America, will be published by Cascade Books.

Schedule

(all at Valley Covenant Church, 3636 W. 18th , Eugene, Oregon):

February 15, 7:00 p.m. - Session 1:
"How the Church Reshaped the Western Political Imagination
without Even Trying"

February 16, 10:00 a.m. - Session 2:
"Dividing the Body of Christ, or, How We Got into the State We're In"

February 16, 7:00 p.m. - Session 3:
"Communion and the Drama of Political Desire "

February 17, 10:30 a.m. - Sermon (during worship at Valley Covenant)

About the Church & Culture Conference

The Church and Culture series is a joint effort of Valley Covenant Churchand Church of the Servant King/Windows Booksellers. We seek to bring challenging Christian thinkers to the Eugene/Springfield community for a weekend of thoughtful presentation and discussion. The community is welcome. For more information about previous conferences and past speakers, or upcoming conferences and future speakers, look here

Tapes/CDs/MP3

Tapes are currently available for lectures and sermons by, Benson, Bouma-Prediger, Budde, Gorman, Hauerwas, Johnston, Kuehne, Laytham Long, Lysaught, Ken Myers, Jay Wood and Ralph Wood. Tapes for subsequent speakers will be available after the event - preorders are welcome. $3/session or sermon includes postage. Beginning with Anderson, the lectures are available on MP3 or audio CD. Please send check to:

Church & Culture Tapes
Valley Covenant Church
3636 W. 18th Ave.
Eugene, OR 97402

It's difficult keeping the alleluia buried...

It's Lent, and we're burying the Alleluia at VCC, but this morning when A. came in part-way through the praise songs, and flanking her, her mother D. and her mother-in-law, B., it was difficult to resist screaming HALLELUJAH!

So we gave a round of applause instead!

Neither D. nor B. speak any English, and none of us speak Farsi, but I think they felt the love of Christ this morning. I was especially thankful that at this, their first experience in Christian worship, we celebrated communion. Whereas it was impossible for A. to keep up translating Steve's sermon for them, she was able to whisper some explanation about what was happening with the bread and the cup and all the people going forward and sharing in the meal. The Spirit took care of the rest.

Afterward the service ended, A removed her shoes, kneeled and bowed before the altar to pray, as is her custom. "Mamma B" and "Mamma D" did the same, behind her. Kent and I joined them and we all praised God in English and Farsi. He has brought A. through 8 rounds of the strongest chemo available. He has overcome the bureaucracies of two nations to reunite B. with her daughter. And perhaps most amazing of all, he is moving in A's father-in-law's heart, so that he is wanting to read more about Jesus. When Mamma B. pointed to the large cross on the wall behind the altar, and said, "Isa Masi--AMAYN!" we couldn't have agreed more!

My goal is that they may be encouraged in heart and united in love, so that they may have the full riches of complete understanding, in order that they may know the mystery of God, namely, Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. (Col. 2:2-3)

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Postscript:

Rowan Williams has reflected here on his church's practice of "burying the alleluia" while visiting Sudan.

Yes, we need to be reminded by abstinence and restraint that the world is still a Good Friday sort of place, shadowed by abandonment, terror, pain. But what if you don't really need reminding? What if, like the Sudanese believers, you have lived so long with abandonment and terror and pain that you can never forget or ignore it? These were people whose whole life was a particularly awful and crushing 'Lent'.

Yet they could not stop saying, singing, shouting, 'Alleluia'. If they lived in a long-term Lent, they also lived in an unceasing awareness of Easter. They had come through the horrors of war and oppression with the confidence intact that God was always there on the far side or in the depths of what they were enduring. If everyone else forgot them, God would not and could not. Because he was alive, they could live too - to echo the words of Jesus in John's gospel.

What he writes could also be said of A: almost all her life has been one long Lent, yet --as she says, "thanks God"-- she lives with an unceasing awareness of Easter. Because Jesus is alive, she is, too. And that Life flows back and forth and around and through.

Meditation for Worship, Feb. 10, 2008

We fell for it, Lord.

We believed Lucifer’s lie, that being a creature wasn’t good.

Creatures are limited, he said.

Creatures are forever having to rely on God, he said. Always having to be what You want us to be.

The serpent told us

we could have it our way,
and we feared being a creature

more than we feared You.
It wasn’t enough for us to be splendid, good creatures.

We wanted to be You.

So you gave us the desires of our hearts,

and now we are sinful and frightened.

"Fear the LORD, you his saints, for those who fear him lack nothing."

But instead of fearing You, Father, we fear doing without.
We can’t live on stones; we need food. And lots of other stuff.
We fear not having enough.
We fear not having the latest things.
We fear we won’t be able to get more stuff.
We’re afraid, Lord.
Teach us to fear rightly: to revere every word that comes from your mouth.

Father, instead of fearing You, we fear not looking good.
We want to make a splash in the world, so people will notice us.
We’re afraid of not impressing others.
We’re afraid of losing face.
We’re afraid of being ugly.
We’re afraid Lord.
Teach us to fear rightly: to be frightened of putting you to the test.

Instead of fearing You, we fear being isolated and powerless.
We want to be in control.
We’re afraid to submit to anything beyond ourselves.
We’re afraid of being overruled.
We’re afraid of being alone.
We’re afraid Lord.
Teach us to fear rightly: to worship you alone, and to serve only you.

For the fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom,
and when we fear You, Father, we will lack no good thing.

Update on A.

A's mother D. has arrived! Her visa allows her to stay 6 months. She is a warm, delightful woman who has not seen her daughter in four years, and who is just now meeting her two-year old grandson for the first time. I cannot imagine the emotions that she must be having. I wish I could speak her language, instead of having to have A. or H. translate, but it is wonderful how much we can communicate despite that barrier. She brought me a beautiful orchid and lavender print silk scarf, thanking me repeatedly for caring for her daughter. I wish I could find words, even in English, to tell her what A. has meant to me.

D. brought A. a very special, very costly, very black-market gift: a small, finely woven, handmade Persian rug showing Jesus next to a cross. It is a work of art which H. and D. will frame. The other night A. was having lots of pain, and H. was frantic, unable to do anything. Then he lit on an idea. He got the carpet and laid it over her, saying, "He has helped you before; He will help you again." A was comforted and relaxed, and was able to fall asleep.

Today when Steve and I visited, she proudly showed us the carpet, explaining the risks D. took acquiring it and the dangers of transporting it in her suitcase. Then she turned very solemnly to Steve and said, "Pastor, I make confession to you. When it is time for me to die and go up there I want this rug on me." She laid it across her tiny frame. "Not this way," she said, pulling it up over her face. "Promise me this way," she insisted, pulling it down so that Jesus' head rested over her heart.

It is moments like that that make up for all the ------- in ministry.
Next Wednesday H's mother and father arrive. It will be a full house. H. has told A. that he wants his parents to know that she has become a Christian, and that he is prepared to tell them himself. He has promised to defend her against any criticism they might make. A. is relieved but also nervous, I think, worrying about what might happen when her husband is gone. It is probably good her mother is there at the same time.

A. finished her final chemo last week. She made it through all eight rounds this time. She will never, ever have to have another round as long as she lives. Tomorrow they remove a kidney stent that has been giving her tremendous pain for the past year. As long as she was on chemo, they wouldn't touch it. We praise God for the gift of each day, and ask that she might have strength to enjoy these days with her family.

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

A's earlier dreams

I realize I haven't written about A's earlier dreams. Isa (Jesus) first came to her in a dream, which seems to be a common way for Muslims to encounter Him. (See here and here and here ).

She had just received word that her cancer had returned, after a year's remission, and she was devestated. A. is such a transparant soul--she wears her emotions so openly. (Shades of Matt. 18:3!) I can imagine how she must have been weeping and unable to be consoled. It was at this point that she dreamed of a Man with a bright face standing before her, reaching out his hand. I can't remember all the details now, but the bottom line was that it made her feel hopeful and curious. Then H's Christian cousin came, and led her to pray at the closest church (which was ours.)

After Steve and I met her, she had another dream. This time A. didn't see the Man's face, only his back, but he was motioning to her to follow him. She knew then is was Isa, and it wasn't long before she was following Him. She was baptized shortly after Easter, 2007.

A. grew impatient when Isa didn't seem to be returning to her dreams. She wondered if He had abandoned her. I spent lots of time explaining that He hadn't, and that she should look for Him to come to her in other ways: through Scripture, worship, prayer and the fellowship of believers. She accepted this, but with a degree of resignation.

A. also became impatient with God, Who didn't seem to be in any hurry to heal her. She had fully expected that once she followed Jesus, He would heal her as a sign to all her friends and family as a sign of His power, and the truth that He is the Son of God. "But I became suspicious," (i.e., doubtful) " she confessed. Every cycle of chemo became more and more difficult. Those same friends and family members in Iran tolerated her new faith, but they were skeptical. A. became so frustrated that she cried out to Jesus, "if you won't heal me, maybe Satan will!"

Then she had another dream, but this one was quite dramatic. Satan came to her, "like a woman with red, red lips," and promised her that he would take away her cancer if she would worship him. The choice was clear: she could either trust Satan or trust Christ. A. was filled with fear, and dreamed that she put a Bible over her head for protection. Pleading with Jesus to forgive her, she told Satan to leave her alone.

"Fine, I will; but I will send you even worse pain!" he threatened.

She awoke, told H. about the dream, and they went back to sleep. A few hours later, A. awoke in excrutiating pain that lasted non-stop for three days. Her oxycontin did nothing to ease it. and H. was at his wit's end, seeing his wife suffer so. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, at the end of those three days it disappeared. A. understands this episode to have been about more than her physical illness. "I feel like I am having the experiences Christians have over many years all compressed," she confided to me. "I was tempted but I did not renounce Jesus. I see I will never do that now."

This was followed many weeks later by another dream: Jesus knocked on the door of their house, and A. opened it and covered His feet with flowers. It was a happy dream; one A. takes to mean that Jesus is also interested in her husband and son. After that her dreams ceased, until this last one about Mary.

A. has another dream

Today I visited A., our Persian friend who is battling gastrointestinal cancer. She had the last of her series of eight major chemos this past week. We are praying that this will lead to another remission. Her doctor has told her that her cancer is incurable. Two years ago she went through six rounds of chemo that bought her a year of health. Now she has gone through another eight rounds of even more powerful chemo, to be followed with pills. Her two year old son, M., and her faithful husband, H. have been her inspiration for continuing to fight for life.

But it has been a mighty battle. A. is physically decimated. She is now confined to her bed, moving in and out of consciousness. This afternoon she told me she had had a dream where a dark-skinned woman "with eyes like honey" and a glowing face came to her, pulling a black scarf over her hair. She said she was Mary, Jesus' mother, but A. was troubled and refused to believe her.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because her skin was dark, like a sun-tan. But her eyes were like honey," A. whispered.

"But A.," I said. "Mary was a Jew; she almost certainly had dark skin and dark hair." At this A.s eyes flashed. "What, Mary was a Jew? Then I not need to be suspicious!"

(I take so much for granted. How could A. not realize Mary was Jewish? But probably the image she has of the Mother of Christ is more like Raphael's fair-skinned, blonde Madonnas than a Semitic peasant girl. There is so much to learn. And unlearn.)

"No, you don't need to doubt. Mary was no stranger to suffering; she stayed by her Son as He died on the cross, you know. I'm not surprised she would come to you in your suffering. Or that Jesus would want his mother to comfort you." With that A. smiled and closed her eyes and fell asleep.