The Psychology of Salvation, Part 1: Jesus Is So Different

This painting is available from Liz Lemon Swindle

Jesus is so different in how He sets us up to understand salvation. He takes our sins upon himself which helps make our inevitable anxieties manageable. Through the sanctuary service of old He prepares us to understand the gap between what we are and what He wills us to become. In this, He may be the only One who presents a truly God-focused religion.

All other religions, despite their belief in God or gods, have a fundamental orientation towards what we must accomplish to be saved; what we must do to earn our salvation in some way. That introduces a self-focus, really, and “self” is immediately sensible to the human psyche: “If it is to be, it is up to me.” At first, it feels liberating, because “now the steering wheel is in my own hands.” We learn the system, and set about to do the things that will supposedly win God’s favor and cause Him to bless our efforts. But that “freedom” of self-direction also puts a crushing weight on the shoulders of we who keep failing. “Did I not really want this enough? Am I defective beyond help? Does God even care about my struggles? What more can I do?” Failure wrenches a lonely and desperate cry from the one who doesn’t understand Jesus’ lavish offer.

With Jesus, we earn nothing. Salvation is provided. In the shadow of that promise we are free to live joyfully as we still seek improvement. But improvement is no longer for salvation. It is for delight; delight to people who love solving problems, and delight to God who loves to see His children grow. Our life becomes a playground on which we can invent stuff, a laboratory in which we can test things. Yes, we can see the gap between where we are and where we wish to be. And we can feel the enormity of that gap, but without despair. Jesus has already bridged the gap on our behalf. So we are free to strive on our end to chip away at our little “home improvements” knowing that the “extreme makeover” will be accomplished by Him and in His time.

So how does the ancient sanctuary service show that this is indeed the way Jesus works? Ah, out of time. That will come next week.

When Knowing Fails

This photo by Gary Hamburg is available at his website.
It depicts that time of day when "hanging out" with God comes naturally.

Still pondering the last half month. I’m concluding it is right to speak up and to push back when it seems that something important is being lost. It’s not about whether you “hold your peace” as Uncle Hervey used to say. It’s about whether you keep your peace. I’m remembering that The Anatomy of Peace asserts that you can “go to war with a heart at peace.” And certainly Gandhi taught that we should push back, but in a way that shows respect for all involved. In fact, he didn’t like the phrase “civil disobedience” so he created a phrase from Sanskrit: satyagraha. It means “truth and firmness.” I like that.

Jesus modeled standing up to wrong. He defended people in the face of unfairness and lack of mercy. He defended the right of the Gentiles to have their worship area in the temple courts free of merchandizing. He did tell us not to resist an evil person, but the word translated “resist” means to fight back violently. So resistance is fine, but we need to be sure we are keeping respect for the other person or group. This is easy to understand, even fairly easy to accept, but not so easy to practice.

That’s because our heads can grasp things before they become a habit to the body. Getting your theology or philosophy figured out is important to building the beliefs that will set the direction of your life. But you don’t “live” in the center of your mental world surrounded by your rational beliefs. You live in the physical world where things happen too quickly for logic and rational explanation. So, something in you has to be programmed for split-second, knee-jerk reaction.

Reacting in the split-second “moment of truth” in a way that honors God requires a sense of His presence. His presence is what brings that “peace that passes all understanding.” We gain a sense of presence by association rather than by discussion, by being with Him rather than by studying Him.

Both are important. Our rationally developed theology guides our life; our “hanging out” with God guides our living.

No... Not Another Time!

I hope this is my last diary-like entry. I wanted these posts to be weekly, inspirational, and short. That plan has been hijacked by my Israel trip diary, and more recently by the upset of the relocation.

But once again I have surprised myself, and not in a good way. The frustrations with the loan process flared up again last Sunday and reached a crescendo on Monday with continued anger on Tuesday. They were asking for things that made no sense to me. I asked for explanations and was ignored. Their demands were beyond what was needed to determine our solvency, and they even required “proofs” to be sent for events happening after the close of escrow. So, I began to fear that we would have a pushy little lender rasping in our ears for life. Therefore, I experienced no relief when escrow closed and Ginger held the keys to our new home. She was in front of our new house eager to move in, and I was in Michigan licking my wounds. So, I ruined the moment of celebration for Ginger.

The next day we tried to “make up” by email, phone, and text as our flights brought us closer to reunion in Nashville. Well, I managed to dampen the reunion as well. At first the issue seemed unrelated to the loan process. In brief, I felt force fed with changes that I was not ready to accept. Ginger was no better rested than I, but she was gracious and understanding, and we managed the needed negotiations for now and have been back to our usual marital bliss. Hallelujah, for a wonderful wife.

But now I question “When is it right to give up my expectations, and when is it right to push back?” As Chris Rice sings, “So draw your lines and choose your sides, cause many things are worth the fight, but louder doesn’t make you right. You don’t have to yell, you don’t have to yell.”

Today in Nashville, NAD President Dan Jackson preached about inclusion and tolerance of each other’s sins. There were many hearty “Amens” as we each remembered times we have felt judged by others whose sins were simply different from ours. Jackson said, “The moment we condescend to one person we disconnect from the gospel of Jesus.”

He told the story of a pastor who asked to have his credentials removed because he couldn’t quit smoking and some people were beginning to smell it on him. Jackson told him, “If God caused all sins to carry an odor, we might begin to understand that we are all in a need of a Savior” (or something close to that.) It’s a great story of not shunning a fallen comrade, but it left me with serious questions.

Can everyone maintain their leadership (or membership) regardless of unconquered sins? Must we view all sins as equally repugnant (or as equally acceptable)? Is overeating really as bad as child abuse? Is pedophilia as acceptable as pride? Is forgiving a sinner the same as accepting the sin? If not, how do those two behaviors look different? Can we allow all shortcomings in members, but be less forgiving of leadership? I don’t know. However, I do know that I am uncomfortable with a “hospital for sinners” where the sinners have not come to get well. Without the desire to be well, the “hospital” only becomes a “museum of sinners.”

I know this is a decadent and permissive time in America’s history (or perhaps decline) so I worry that some of the “eat, drink, and be merry” attitude has crept into our church and we are more interested in our own comfort than in progress.

I’m not rambling. Let me tie this together. I have shown strong negative feelings over the past two weeks towards things I disagreed with. Is that wrong? Is the Christian life about plastering a smile over any concerns about health or sustainability or legality or morality? Sooner or later wounds under bandaids may fester and turn gangrenous. There is a time to discuss to disagree and maybe even to resist and disconnect. Paul certainly counseled the Corinthian church to do that with one of its members was having sexual relations with his father’s wife, a thing “that does not even happen among the pagans” (2 Cor 5:1).

I’m not trying to contradict President Jackson. His message of cutting some slack for each other is needed, especially in light of some of the petty things we get upset about. And I know that Paul doesn’t have the whole judgment vs forgiveness thing all figured out, either. He spends some time in Chapter 3 describing how Moses’ covenant of law is fading away and the more glorious covenant of the Spirit is coming. And in Chapter 2 he tells the people to forgive the brother who had been shunned at Paul’s request in his first letter (1 Cor 5). Apparently the brother has repented, but Paul adds in verse 10, “if there was anything to forgive” ?! Then he apparently swings back to law by adding, “For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive what is due him for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad” (2 Cor 5:10).

I can’t explain nor dismiss those differing statements. So, I think there are times in our lives to dismiss or forgive the trespasses of others, and there are times to take action against misbehaviors, yes, even among members that are just trying to get a little happiness on the side.

But when and how?

When Time Stands Still

No joking, that was Rodlie Ortiz’s sermon title today at the Pioneer Memorial Church. I’ve been blogging a bit about “time,” but Rodlie’s “time standing still” did not refer to the blessing of quiet times of reflection; quite the opposite! but a blessing nonetheless. Ortiz spoke about the trials that Joseph went through, not minimizing Joseph’s tattletale behaviors and his indiscrete trumpeting of the two dreams predicting his future greatness. But Ortiz’s focus was on those times “when time stands still” for you, like when you’ve heard the cancer tests have come back positive, when you open the note saying your loved one is not coming back, your application has been denied, etc.

He looked particularly at the humiliation Joseph suffered when he was thrown in the pit knowing that his brothers would rather have killed him, being sold as a slave, being falsely accused by Potifer’s wife, and jailed with no hope of parole. When time stands still for us and it seems that there is no hope left, it is human to ask God “Why?!” or to angrily deny there is a God. Fortunately, Joseph did neither.

The line Ortiz repeated many times was “Trials are not an indication of God’s absence, but a preparation for a greater purpose.” He said that often in the trials we can see no reason for them. Rather, it’s like being in an earthquake; all we can do is cling to the walls and hold on. So Ortiz encouraged those in trials, “Hold on. He is clearing away the things you have relied on—your wit, your intelligence, your cuteness—whatever it is, He is making it not work so you can learn to set it aside and grasp what He is needing you to learn.”

Apparently Joseph’s youthful pride is eradicated as his favored status is totally removed. But like Job, Joseph moves closer to God. He surrenders his pride, but not his faith. When he successfully interprets the dreams he says that interpretations belong to God, and when his brothers grovel at his feet asking forgiveness, Joseph says, “It was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you.” It’s a different, incredibly more stable and mature Joseph; someone fit for the divine calling to save life—farm boy turned royal.

I want to be like that. Ready to let God strip away anything I have begun to count on that isn’t Him. It reminds me of Blackaby’s Challenge last Sabbath. Between these two Sabbaths I have had to face my difficulty in letting go of an objective. Is that all I need to learn? Hmm… Not sure.

"Lord, What's Happened to the Time!"

Horrible day. I don’t even want to chronicle all the ugliness. I just want to ask a few hard questions of myself. Briefly, I’m at the Andrews “Research Writing Bootcamp” where I’m supposed to be making great progress on my dissertation while surrounded by my dissertation committee and other writing coaches. Even my methodologist is here from Florida. However, instead of a broad highway towards chapter completion, I’ve experienced a bumpy, rutty road with many detours. Why? The lender and escrow agents keep pelting me with requests for more documents, and many of the requests seem peevish and irrational.

After a wasted first half-day on Wednesday, I wrote all night trying to catch up. I’m sure the loss of sleep helped set me up for the fury I felt on Thursday. Despite the frantic work to catch up, Thursday was only another day of doing banking while the cohort around me focused on their writing and had great conferences with the live resources in the room. I was “frustrated” I told Janie, the lender agent. The truth was that I was enraged. I think I was civil to her, though I could hear her cringe once when I called her.

I have no regrets about my dealings with her, or Erin, or Cara. I believe I kept a civil, if somewhat pointed, tongue. What perplexes me is how angry I was inside. I know I was not far from danger. I could hear it in Ginger’s pacifying comments. I am also perplexed by how long I stayed angry. Truth be told, I still am! But why? I don’t like being so close to rash decisions.

Again, I’m trying not to descend into the gory details, so let me record the dynamics. I was angry initially because I sensed being robbed of an opportunity—the writing bootcamp. Then the incessant requests became more annoying with each new email or phone call. It was like mosquitoes that continue to buzz in your ear or skewer you as you are trying to enjoy camping out. With each new buzz you slap yourself harder and get madder. Third, I became fearful that I would appear incompetent to the agents and even to my wife as the requests moved into things that Ginger’s folks would need to do. That is, I had less ability to actually fulfill the requests as they drew dangerously close to our closing date, and they began to involve the folks. I felt righteously indignant about Ginger’s parents having to shoulder work for our loan arrangements, but that indignation was really fueled by my anger over the whole thing. “Unfair to the folks” was just a more attractive banner to march under.

As things progressed the tension built up like I was sitting in a giant pressure cooker. Then my resource people began to leave early! My methodologist flew home early Thursday afternoon, and others began to drift off. But not everyone left me, the plaguey lenders continued to attend me like a depressing drizzle. “No clearing in sight.”

Given this context, one can see why even Ginger’s help didn’t help my mood. The lender wanted her folks to provide some documents and a phone interview. I fumed that both were not needed, unfair, and nearly impossible. Ginger, who didn’t need a hearing aid to detect my rising anger, had made a phone call to a College Place friend for help, and in two or three hours she was able to provide the needed documents to the lender.

While the help was great, and a relief of sorts, it also made me feel even more incompetent and foolish. Here I was frothing at the mouth, parading around, claiming it couldn’t be done while Ginger coolly and quickly provided. I felt like a petty, grandstanding jerk. I was, and am, grateful that she got us unstuck—that she saw the crystallizing impasse and quickly got us around it—but it did highlight my ineffectiveness.

Yet, as incompetent and horrible as I appeared to myself, I did have to chuckle a bit. I had been amused at Steve Martin’s meltdown in “Father of the Bride” as he was reduced to doing one of the simple tasks the family felt would be safe, given his highly agitated frame of mind. The task was to pick up some picnic supplies for a little family supper. In the grocery store scene Martin, who is enraged at the out-of-control costs of the wedding, gets red-hot furious when he discovers that there are 10 hotdogs in a package, but only eight hotdog buns per package. He is convinced that it is a dirty little scheme cooked up by the butchers and bakers to rip off “Joe average American” by causing him to have to buy more than he needs of either hotdogs or buns.

It’s a wildly funny tempest that he creates, and for which he is jailed. For a moment I could see myself in the same humorous way, but long term it is not very flattering to think that my anger was just as pointless. I really did lose a major writing opportunity, but I want to avoid getting so close to the boiling point. I sense that there is a lesson here, and I want to keep my eyes and ears open to it.

So in reflection: I was angry because I had a strong vision of what I wanted (writing progress) and that was being thwarted by things out of my control (the lender’s requests.) In this standoff, the passing of time escalated the pressure as the bank and title company offered no relief. I felt more and more hogtied.

I began to see the deeper problem more clearly when I was hurrying home that evening. I was on foot and the rain began; small infrequent drops at first, but I could sense it was building up to a good squall. I began to walk faster, hoping to get to the house without getting drenched. As the rain became a downpour I was only 80 yards or so from my cousin’s house. I was running to close the gap quickly. My backpack containing my laptop was bouncing with every step. It also was shifting in a way that felt like the shoulder straps were failing. I felt them as I ran and they were okay. Yet the pack felt like it was falling away. “Oh well, I’ll just make the mad dash across the cul de sac and into the open garage.” There I swung the pack off my shoulders and my keyboard rattled down onto the concrete floor! My zippered section containing the computer had opened up and the laptop and keyboard had been getting soaked!

This was like a voice from God about my deeper problem. I can get so focused on my objectives that I didn’t stop to consider my resources. In the rain I had an umbrella. It was neatly folded in the pack, and I could have put it up before the raindrops got big and thick. An investment of 30 seconds could have kept my pack and computer dry.

Two other incidents from my sorry past came to mind. Once when I spent a full Sunday slaving over a computer program I was writing (and never did get to work properly) I got so angry that I wouldn’t pray for two weeks. I had requested God’s help with my “noble” effort, so I was frosted when I failed. Another time when I was carrying a hotdish from the oven to the table where my kids were waiting. The heat from the dish began to burn my fingers, so I ran faster and faster, finally slamming the dish on the table and dancing around waving my fingers in the cooler air. To get to the table I had had to run around three sides of a breakfast bar on which I could have set the dish while I searched for better hot mitts. But no, my eyes were locked on my objective.

In all three stories—programming, hotdish, and now the rain—the constant was my fixation on completing a task regardless of the situation. Isn’t that noble? “Leaders” don’t surrender objectives. They push through like John Wayne or Clint Eastwood. We all love stories of the one who never quit believing. Who never quit striving until the dream became a reality. That works great on a Hollywood set. It tells a story near and dear to our hearts. It’s the American way; pursue a dream, knock out all resistance until you stand holding the winner’s cup aloft. There shouldn’t be any obstacle too big for me to surmount. Right?

It’s not in my nature to give up an objective. It’s not even “the right thing” to do. But last Thursday I couldn’t ask the lender to give up hers… (Well, truth be told, I did, but you can guess that wasn’t very effective.) So I really was trapped in a slummy blind alley, and rather than trying to climb the walls, I should have turned to face the headlights.

Surrendering an objective causes psychic pain. It’s an admission that life has moved out of my control or that I was mistaken in my choice of goals. But my rigid refusal to surrender only succeeds in clamping the lid more tightly on the pressure cooker. Rather than moving towards achievement, I move towards an explosion.

Frankly, knowing when to push on and when to give in is a skill I normally possess. I’m not Steve Martin. Most people like working with me because I can be flexible. I can change when it is needed; when clashing interests demand it. But what always seems to get me is the pressure of time. When time is in short supply, so is my creative resourcefulness. When pressure builds up, so does my rigidity.

Here’s the sobering thought: When I am holding the reins of power my anger doesn’t build up. I simply make the decision I have the power to make, and I become the pressure for some hapless soul who has just presented a request. At that time I am in the lender’s role and the other person just has to “eat it” like I did. I want to see these storms as they brew and whip out the umbrella for my own protection and for the protection of those who have to wait for my word.

Tackling the Wrong Problem… Can It Work?

I’m still listening for God to tell me what to put down. I’ve been thinking “pride” because of my sorrow when I am not recognized. Today walking the two miles to Roundtable I realized that I want to be noticed in my leadership role, but when I am not I don’t feel proud as much as I do ashamed. It’s a bit complicated. You see, I have equated leadership with charisma. I want to do things that add “good” to life and I think I must be in a leadership role to do that. Since I have believed that real leaders attract followers like flies, then when the followers don’t follow or acclaim doesn’t cling to me, I feel ashamed. “I am not being a leader.”

I know some principals that are truly charismatic. Some of my Leadership classmates are. They love being on the stage, planning the party, joshing with everybody. I think, “I oughta do that. I’m a leader; why aren’t I acting like that?” But now I see that I’m equating “leader” with “charismatic” which often involves being sanguine. Sanguine I am not. I don’t actually want to be the life of the party, yet I have thought that I should be. Aside from that I have full confidence in my ability to do good things. I find it much more rewarding when a person writes to tell me that my life has improved theirs than when I am hauled up on stage to receive applause or awards.

Suddenly a bit of history strikes me: We used to revere the “director” type of leader, the “man with the plan.” Let’s get things done. It was a modern world, and we were focused on progress. Now we want the “relator” type of leader, the empathic person. Let’s just get along. It’s the postmodern world, and we are focused on comfort. Maybe there are fads in leadership style. Does it matter if my style is not in vogue? I don’t even need to know if it ever will be.

What intrigues me is this question: If my discomfort has come from being ashamed for not meeting a false image of who I should be, yet I misread those emotions as pride… could I effect the needed changes in my life by trying to become more humble? It might work to release the feelings of disappointment as being pride and then turning away from them. Perhaps we often do mislabel our deficits and work on them with the wrong tools. And maybe that works enough of the time for us to go on and give semi-helpful advice to others. But wouldn’t it be better for me to recognize the feelings as shame and say, “Hey wait! I’m not trying to be that kind of a leader,” and then turn back to the things I know I’m good at? Wouldn’t that strike closer to the root of the disappointment and more easily redirect my focus to whatever I should do next?

In the meantime, I think, “Yes, I have been leading, and I have loved and been loved by those who worked with me. And I did it in my own skin. That’s enough.” I vowed to quit feeling bad about not being a personality I really don’t want to be. I love sanguines and charismatics, just as I love gazelles, but I don’t aspire to be them. Instead, I want to trust in the talents He gave me. If they are good for leading somewhere, He’ll make sure I end up there. If they are better suited to something else, I’ll gladly go there. I can quit thinking of leadership and simply be whatever He wants in the moment.

Still Time to Be Holy

Wow, today I saw Linda Caviness in a fight for credibility. She was on a panel discussing social intelligence in the wake of Dr. Daniel Goleman’s two presentations. A director of nurse anesthetist training took her to task as not being scientific. “You talk of oxytocin as being the trust hormone. Well, it’s also called the love hormone, and men don’t have much of it. Does that make men incapable of love? We give women Pitocin, which really just oxytocin, after birth to slow bleeding. Men don’t use this stuff in their bodies. Can we not be trusted? The problem is that some “researchers” in “brain science” take things too far. They over-generalize.”

 

Linda responded with a poignant story of how in a UC Berkley class on diagnosing and treating reading difficulties, the Harvard-grad professor asked, “If you had to boil this all down to one thing, what would that be? What one thing would make you the most effective, give you the most success?” The class sat quiet.

Linda pondered all the things they had learned and tried to extract some common denominator that would be most helpful to teachers of young reading students. Since no one else was hazarding a guess, she ventured, “Love. That’s the most basic tool we have.”

The professor turned on her and said, “Well, Miss Goody-two-shoes, do you have any more Pollyanna philosophy to share with us?”

Back then she felt attacked and stunned, but on stage today she finished the story by addressing the nurse-training director with, “That was 1980. Dr. Goleman didn’t publish his work until 1995. Because of his work, today many people would agree with me.” I think she was implying that it is worth pursuing a science of love and decency even if that science is emerging and incomplete.

On the same panel, all panelists agreed that the one biggest factor that blocks us from being the emotionally intelligent people we could be is time. Dr. Bailey stated that religion suffers without time. Some scientists try to find the “God spot” in the mind, but it will not be found. There is no righteousness gene, no moral epigenome. Instead, when things work well, we are still free to devote them to good, or not.

To further make his point about time, Bailey continued, “Time, quiet time, is a problem-solving marker. Just before a brain makes a leap to some wild new solution, it goes totally quiet. You can observe it, and you can predict what is coming. The brain always goes quiet before a sudden burst of activity.” He went on to look at the Sabbath rest as a possible explanation as to why students at Andrews score higher on self-moderation (lower at-risk behavior) than university students at large. He also wondered if the studies showing caffeine as an inhibitor of emotional intelligence were actually catching two symptoms of the same thing: lack of time. “Our society is so rushed it uses caffeine, AND it doesn’t do well in places where E.I is needed.”

So perhaps to unlock righteousness in the human mind we need not so much science as we need unhurried time. “Be still, and know.”