the third way

Continuing the thread from before, I'd like to begin to talk about what "the third way" that Tim Keller mentioned looks like.  The first way is licentiousness, embodied by the Prodigal Son.  The second way is self-righteousness, embodied by his older brother.  The third way is the way of the cross.  As an aside that would be worth considering further, using psychological terms one could talk about these "ways" as hedonism of the id, ego, and superego, respectively.  Anyways.  So what is the way of the cross?  Who are our examples?  What are we to do and why?

Well, the obvious answer to the first question is Jesus, but I'm actually not sure that he is the most instructive example for us.  Jesus had a double mission: 1) spread the news that the Kingdom of God was at hand, and 2) die for our sins.  I am certain that the second mission does not apply to me, and I'm not even sure how well the first mission applies.  Perhaps the mission of proclaiming the Kingdom is still valid, but certain types of people in certain contexts seem to have the role of the prophet: the role of turning things on their heads, of upsetting the balance that has developed in society to point out how that system does evil.  There is a place for this sort of thing in our world today, but I would not want to go to a church full of these sorts of prophets.  If there was a church (or a Kingdom) full of Jesuses, I strongly suspect that their lives would look dramatically different from the Jesus in the Bible.  If the whole church or even a large portion of it couldn't operate in the role that Jesus played, then he's not a great example for the everyday Christian in terms of vocation.  There are things Jesus does and says that I think are very instructive for us, but sometimes it's hard to tell what is vocation and what is the spiritual center that every follower of Christ should emulate.

If not Jesus, then who?  The other prominent New Testament characters are Paul and Peter, but these too are lacking in practical, general application.  Paul was a scholar in a way that few of us will ever be.  He also was in the role of missionary preacher that few of us will occupy.  His teaching is very instructive, but it is hard to decipher at times and frequently abstract.  It is particularly hard to understand or emulate the sort of cohesive confidence he has in his teaching (at least without the benefit of psychosis); things that he claims are self-evident seem only to be so if you're a brilliant Messianic Jewish scholar.  Peter has the opposite problem.  He's an everyman, but he's also the butt of every story he's in in the Gospels and at least one in Acts.  I'm sure he was a great leader in the church, but we really don't see that part of him.  Instead we see an endearing list of things not to do.  Here's a great Christian leader who makes the same mistakes we do.  Jesus forgives his folly; what a great illustration of God's love and forgiveness!  But he is not an example of how to live, outside of being forgivable.

Taking a step back at this point and stating a little more plainly what I think, the Bible and the church do offer more concrete examples of what life in the Kingdom should look like.  Some examples of these are found in the Old Testament, some are found in the traditions of monasticism within the church, and plenty are also found in the New Testament.  A couple more recent writers in the monastic vein that have influenced me are Richard Foster and Dietrich Bonhoeffer.  I may get to them and the New Testament eventually, but first I would like to discuss the most concrete example of how to live a righteous life offered in the Bible: the Psalms.

For a long time, I didn't care for the Psalms; they seemed like lots of florid language that didn't have much to say to me.  However, after seeing a number of writings (including Bonhoeffer and a number of the monastic texts) talk extensively about them, I was ready to concede that there must be something worthwhile there and I resolved to read them until I got it.  Eventually what I got was this: the book of Psalms is a handbook on righteous thought and prayer.

While not every Psalm fits the mold and it often takes a bit of dwelling on the text and/or creativity to pick them out, the average Psalm typically involves the following:

• The psalmist has some feeling ranging from joy, to grief, to fear, to anger, to righteous indignation, to despair, to regret, to thankfulness.  
• The psalmist presents this feeling to God honestly.  
• The psalmist states the things he knows about God or the things God has done.  
• The psalmist reconciles his feeling with his faith in God.  

As an example, let's look at Psalm 59:

Deliver me from my enemies, O God;
be my fortress against those who are attacking me.
Deliver me from evildoers
and save me from those who are after my blood.

See how they lie in wait for me!
Fierce men conspire against me
for no offense or sin of mine, Lord.
I have done no wrong, yet they are ready to attack me.
Arise to help me; look on my plight!
You, Lord God Almighty,
you who are the God of Israel,
rouse yourself to punish all the nations;
show no mercy to wicked traitors.

They return at evening,
snarling like dogs,
and prowl about the city.
See what they spew from their mouths—
the words from their lips are sharp as swords,
and they think, “Who can hear us?”
But you laugh at them, Lord;
you scoff at all those nations.

You are my strength, I watch for you;
you, God, are my fortress,
my God on whom I can rely.
God will go before me
and will let me gloat over those who slander me.
But do not kill them, Lord our shield,
or my people will forget.
In your might uproot them
and bring them down.
For the sins of their mouths,
for the words of their lips,
let them be caught in their pride.
For the curses and lies they utter,
consume them in your wrath,
consume them till they are no more.
Then it will be known to the ends of the earth
that God rules over Jacob.
 

They return at evening,
snarling like dogs,
and prowl about the city.
They wander about for food
and howl if not satisfied.

But I will sing of your strength,
in the morning I will sing of your love;
for you are my fortress,
my refuge in times of trouble.
You are my strength, I sing praise to you;
you, God, are my fortress,
my God on whom I can rely.

In writing this psalm, the psalmist puts a bunch of things next to each other on paper.  He is facing a threat to his life.  He has not wronged those who threaten him.  He wants God to step in to protect him and restore justice.  He trusts that God is both sympathetic to him and strong enough to defend him.  This isn't a logical progression, but rather dwelling on the tension presented by life circumstances: i.e., "Things don't look quite fair, but I trust in God.  How do I reconcile these things?"

 

It's easy to react to events off the cuff without resorting to this sort of reflection.  Sometimes this could look like lashing out in anger or taking matters into one's own hands.  It could also look like backing down and assuming one's own fault when faced with conflict.  The Psalms have a lot to say about how we deal with conflict or tension, though. 
 

First, we should acknowledge it.  Evil is real.  The world is not right.  The solution isn't to twist our heads and squint until it looks alright, but to announce the ways in which the world falls short of justice - the apparent conflicts between the nature of God and the actions of God, if you will.  If there is a God, if prayer means something to him, and if the Psalms are to be admired in any way, then this announcement of injustice must be the central point of prayer.  We're calling God out to act in accordance with his nature so we can participate in the redemption of some wrong. 

In addition to allowing us to participate in the work of God, this also gives an impetus for us to better understand what is good and just.  If we're going to call out the creator of the universe on how he's running the place, it would seem that we'd better have a good idea of how it should be run.  By looking through the Psalms and other prayerful books (such as many of the minor prophets), we can put together a list of grievances that holy men and women in history thought worthy of raising up to God:

• People who do evil seem to come out ahead.
• Evil is not punished.
• People who are weak get exploited.
• Society seems to promote godlessness.
• People are attacked without cause.
• I have sinned and need mercy. 
• People suffer and die. 

Perhaps with some creativity we could add "relationships between people are broken".  This is what godly people in the Bible pray about.  The world is complicated and ambiguous, but the godly focus on these clear injustices.  Perhaps we should too.  This simplicity counteracts our self-righteous tendencies.  We can be confident praying about these things in the way that the psalmist does, and as we make the Psalms our own, we see ways in which we can pray for our own circumstances. 
 

Thirdly, we should state the things we believe, even when they are challenged by circumstances.  If David had exactly zero doubts that God would rescue him - that is, if he thought he had just grabbed an invincibility star - would he really write this Psalm?  Doubtful.  When David is faced with challenges and doubts, however, he tended to spew off a list of reasons he trusted in God.  In this case, he simply affirms that God is his strength, fortress, refuge and shield. 

 

One of my favorite lines from the the Royal Tennenbaums is when the estranged father and general dirtbag, Royal, is trying to make amends with his ex-wife:

 

Royal: "Look, I know I'm going to be the bad guy on this one, but I just want to say the last six days have been the best six days of probably my whole life."

Narrator: "Immediately after making this statement, Royal realized that it was true."

 

A lot of the time, saying something out loud allows us to realize the truth of our statement.  It connects us to others who share our beliefs and helps us to remember why we thought the thing in the first place. David's declarations of devotion and faith remind us of times when we felt God protected us. They help us remember that we are not strong enough on our own, and that we didn't get to where we are based on our might. When I read statements like these and when I participate in creeds and common prayers in church, I see it not as a boast of some truth I find obvious, but rather as talking myself into a set of beliefs that are important. It is beneficial to make these sort of statements communally on a regular basis and personally as we are faced with challenging circumstances.

In a sense, making these statements is about submission. I may be submitting to the church at large, repeating creeds or prayers that have endured for hundreds of years. I may also be submitting to my past self. Even if I feel faithless now, at some point in the past, I felt faithful. In either case, even when these might be challenging to say or believe, we defer to those who held them in high regard for so long, and seriously consider if they carry truth for us or not.

A final thing the Psalms have to teach us is that being in the right is attainable. Listen to what the psalmist says in various Psalms: "I have done no wrong" (Psalm 59). "I have led a blameless life" (Psalm 26). "Vindicate me, Lord, according to my righteousness" (Psalm 7). "I have chosen the way of faithfulness; I have set my heart on your laws. I hold fast to your statutes, Lord;" (Psalm 119).  This is a far cry from how we typically hear righteousness talked about in evangelical churches today.  No one would make these statements.  It would be all "God, if it be your will, even though I deserve much worse, please consider letting me get to work safely."  Assuming David actually wrote the Psalm, he's pretty clearly not blameless and more to the point, no one should ever have any issues with the idea that everyone sins at some point.  So what's the psalmist getting at here? 

Some would say it's prophetic and told from Jesus' perspective. That may be true, but I refuse to believe that the Psalms were written and sung or recited for several hundred years of Jewish tradition before the meaning made any sense at all to the participants. The psalmist is saying he is without blame! He's aligning himself with the Son of Man in the process, but he's really saying this stuff, and he really means it about himself! Otherwise, if the Psalms were written by prophets speaking about abstract things hundreds of years down the road, if they were all about Jesus but not about humans, if we can't relate to the psalmist, what possible value could the Psalms hold for us? 

 

So if the psalmist is really talking about himself, and he's not making a claim to perfection that no one would buy, what is he saying?  I think it's related to the points above.  First, just like evil is real, this acknowledges that good is real and that we have the ability to do either.  Second, how do we know what is good?  Well, it's complicated, but the broad brush strokes are not: live justly, don't let evil go unchecked in your realm of influence, be merciful.  Another way of saying this would be:

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8)

And thirdly, just as making statements of faith helps to restore our faith, making statements of righteousness helps to restore our righteousness.  We identify with the Son of Man and say that this is what we value, what we want to be, and to some extent, what we are.