Flannery O’Connor’s A Prayer Journal

I don’t go into bookstores as much as I used to.  Blame Amazon.com.  Blame the Kindle.  I don’t know.  I still love a good bookstore, but it’s now an occasional divergence and less of the habit it used to be.  One of the many downsides of less trips to the bookstore is that I sometimes miss truly interesting titles because I did not see an ad online or elsewhere.

I realized that today when I swung into a Barnes & Noble and saw that Flannery O’Connor’s 1946-1947 Prayer Journal has been published.  She was 21 when she began the journal and 22 when she stopped.  She wrote it while a student in Iowa City, studying writing.

I fell in love with the writings of Flannery O’Connor in college and have not ceased returning to them, always with great profit.  She was, in short, a phenomenal writer of short stories.  This little Georgia woman had an enthralling mind, a wonderful gift for crafting memorable and often jarring stories, and a devout Catholic faith.  Now, in this prayer journal, we are privileged to see a further glimpse into her spiritual life. It is brief and can be read in one sitting.  It really should be read.

In many ways, it reads the way you would expect the prayer journal of a young Christian to read.  We find a sense of struggle in these pages:  the struggle of a young woman trying to grow into her faith and trying to hold onto her faith in the face of consistent attacks upon it from within the academy.  She cries out to God numerous times for help.  She wants her faith to be real.  She does not want her faith to be based on fear.  She believes in Hell, and is frightened of it, but she wants to trust in God because she loves Him.

Parts of the journal are surprisingly insightful.  She is keenly aware of the typical psychological characterizations of religious faith and fervor.  Though she feels the force of these arguments, she refuses to believe that what she feels is a mere mental phenomenon.  She also has an amazing grasp of what a lack of faith in God does to human beings and of how we turn to sensuality as a substitute.  These parts of the journal really are impressive.

Many of the prayers are very practical.  She asks God to help her write and write well.  She is aware of her own ego and ambition, but she wants God to help her write for His glory.  She is aware of what she calls her own laziness and asks God to help her overcome this fault.  The final prayer bemoans her fixation on “Scotch oatmeal cookies” and “erotic thought.”

In all, this is a fascinating and encouraging little work.  It shows us the mind of a brilliant young woman who loved God yet was aware of her own struggles in doing so.  I would highly encourage you purchase and read this wonderful little work.  You will not regret it.

Preben Vang and Terry Carter’s Telling God’s Story

In the Fall of 2013, I taught a Ouachita University extension class surveying the Bible.  The textbook was Telling God’s Story, by Ouachita professors Preben Vang and Terry Carter.  This will be a simple and short review.  Simply put:  this is a very well done basic introduction to the Bible.  The students in the class really benefited from it, as did I.

Vang and Carter work through the Bible from Genesis to Revelation, summarizing the contents and theology of the books.  Along the way, they ably address the pertinent issues and questions that arise from the text.  Again, it is a solid evangelical introduction that I highly recommend for anybody or any group wanting an accessible tool that will help them grasp the big picture of the Bible.  It is general enough to be useful for the beginning student, but addresses enough specific issues that it will be helpful for those who already have at least a rudimentary grasp of the Bible as well.

N.D. Wilson’s Death by Living

I kept seeing this book pop on Twitter and the blogosphere and finally decided to give it a shot.  VERY glad I did.  Wow!  Honestly, this is a fantastic piece of work.

I’m pretty hard on books, and I’m particularly hard on books that I think are trying to be provocative.  I do not like the feel of “manufactured-incindiary,” and I do suspect that a new generation of writers is becoming convinced that this kind of writing is the way forward.  You likely know what I mean:  the intentional employment of provocative, random concepts intended, as I see it, to communicate that the writer (in Christian books anyway) does not inhabit the fundamentalist ghetto, that he has considered unorthodox things.  It’s a literary attempt at garnering street cred.  It is a form of literary posturing, usually, and is a way of saying, “Let me prove to you that I can be shocking and dangerous before I feed you a Sunday School lesson.”

After reading the first page of N.D. Wilson’s Death by Living, I had a vague suspicion that this was going to be one of those kinds of books.  Make no mistake about it:  Wilson is eclectic and provocative in tone.  However, I very quickly figured out that he wasn’t posturing.  Rather, there is deep content beneath the provocations and idiosyncratic meanderings.  More than that, there is a stridently Christian view of the world woven in a tapestry of powerful stories and images by the hands of a skilled storyteller.

The book is hard to describe.  In a sense, it is a meditation on life via a meditation on death.  Wilson tells the stories of his family, primarily of his grandparents, and even more primarily (if you’ll allow it) of the life and death of one of his grandfathers.  Interspersed throughout are tales of his children and his wife.  More than that:  theological musings, deductions, and – a rarity among many young Christian writers – conclusions are allowed to arise from the familial tales.

My attempt at a summary statement will sound pedantic and shallow:  we are dying, therefore we best be about living…and the life we are living is a purposeful story to which we are privileged to contribute despite our not being the primary author.  That really does not do justice to what Wilson has done in this book.  Along the way we find insightful and moving discussions of time, existence, life, death, physicality (in a nice swipe at neo-gnosticism) and a couple of compelling critiques of the new atheism.  (These musings on atheism were particularly poignant and helpful.)

To be perfectly frank, it’s a tough book to review precisely because of how it is structured.  I will simply say this:  Wilson’s musings are worth the time it takes to consider them.  You will be touched, inspired, intellectually stimulated, and challenged by what you find in this book.

WELL worth reading!

James Leo Garrett, Jr.’s Evangelism for Discipleship

ImageServerDB.aspThe best books are not always either currently on store shelves or even currently in print.  I was reminded of that fact today when I read James Leo Garrett, Jr.’s little book, Evangelism for Discipliship.  Published almost fifty years ago, the addresses that comprise this book were originally delivered to the Kentucky Baptist Evangelistic Conference meeting January 15-17, 1962, and published in 1964.  I found a copy through an online used book site.  I note that one more copy is available from www.abebooks.com.

My interest in acquiring this book was two-fold.  First of all, the subject matter:  I am interested in the idea that true evangelism aims for discipleship and not merely conversion. Second, a personal reason:  I have the utmost respect for Dr. Garrett, who I took for Systematic Theology at Southwestern Seminary, and who I am privileged to call a friend today.  Dr. Garrett has been called the last of the gentlemen theologians.  This may well be the case.  His impact on Southern Baptist life and education has been significant, and I am part of a large group of former students who realize the great treasure we had in sitting under the teaching of Dr. Garrett.  Furthermore, I interviewed him and reviewed his book, Baptist Theology, for The Founder’s Journal here, and earlier for my site here.  I have reviewed another work by Dr. Garrett here.  I turn frequently to his Systematic Theology and have taught portions of it at Central Baptist Church.  What is more, Dr. Garrett wrote the Foreword for my first book, Walking Together, and cast his shadow over my second book, On Earth as it is In Heaven, as well (through his work on church discipline and regenerate church membership).

In this book, Evangelism for Discipleship, Dr. Garrett offers careful definitions of six biblical concepts:  repentance, forgiveness and reconciliation, new life, discipleship, and sanctification.  His handling is vintage Leo Garrett and offers an early glimpse of the kind of careful, methodical approach that would later characterize his magnum opus two-volume Systematic Theology.  By that I mean he offers a thorough etymology of each word and concept, examples of how the concepts have been approached and understood throughout the church universal, examples of fallacious approaches that should be avoided, and concluding comments pointing forward to a healthy embrace of these important truths.  In particular, one can note Garrett’s careful ecumenism, his concern for Southern Baptist life, and his impressive grasp of Christian history in this treatment.

The work is, of course, dated at points, particularly when he addresses this or that current issue facing Southern Baptists.  A couple of times he approaches the need for racial justice, an idea that was certainly more controversial in the Southern Baptist Convention of 1964 than of today.  In discussing regeneration, he interestingly notes that Southern Baptists had perhaps inordinately stressed the human aspect of the new life to the neglect of the sovereign work of God and should be reminded that God is indeed at work in salvation.  I could not help but wonder if Dr Garrett could say such a thing now with the advent of neo-Calvinism in the SBC and whether or not he would perceive that particular pendulum as having swung to the other extreme in our day.

Many aspects of this work were quite helpful.  In discussing the relationship between justification and sanctification, Dr. Garrett stresses that while the former term is almost always used in Scripture to refer to a moment, the simplistic assertion that sanctification always refers to a process is a bit naive as the New Testament uses the word in other ways as well.  Thus, sanctification has a more fluid definition.  Furthermore, in discussing the ordo salutis of faith and regeneration, Dr. Garrett proposes not listing these in a chronological sequence on a linear timeline but rather as an upper and lower story singular notion, with regeneration being the work of God above and faith being the response of man below.

I suppose what I found most interesting about this work was the personal and, at times, conversational tone of the work.  This is no doubt due to two factors:  the fact that these were originally sermons at an evangelism conference and the fact that Dr. Garrett would have been only thirty-seven years old when he delivered them.  His age at the time is impressive in and of itself, given the care and scholarly acumen evidenced in this book.  Regardless, it was fascinating to hear Dr. Garrett (1) use sermonic illustrations, (2) make direct appeals to the audience concerning current issues in the SBC, (3) evidence some rhetorical flourish at points, and (4) even use humor at one point.

Dr. Garrett is not a humorless or dour man, but he is a historical and systematic theologian.  Thus, the work he has primarily done does not lend itself much to these kinds of personal touches.  I thoroughly enjoyed reading them!

Is this book still relevant?  To be sure it is.  A new generation of ministers and laypeople could really benefit from the kind of careful and meticulous approach Dr. Garrett takes here and elsewhere.  I suspect that is why I, and others, do try as we can to keep his legacy alive.

If you’re near a theological library or care to search online, this would be a helpful work for you to read and, if possible, own.

Gregory Thornbury’s Recovering Classic Evangelicalism

I’ve read a lot of books that I thought were powerful, and a lot of books that I thought were memorable, but only a few books that I thought were “important.”  Gregory Thornbury’s Recovering Classic Evangelicalism: Applying the Wisdom and Vision of Carl F.H. Henry is one of those few books.  I daresay that Thornbury’s carefully crafted, wisely conceived, and strategically nuanced proposal for the way forward for Evangelicals is worthy of the serious attention of all who bare the moniker, and I will be personally impressing the need to read this work on my own friends.

For some time I have felt a kind of schizophrenic pull toward the culture-warrior-fundamentalism of my youth and the subtle-salt-and-light-quietism of the neo-Anabaptist movement (at least as I have perceived it).  When pressed, neither has seemed to me to be tenable because neither seems, at heart, concurrent with the ipsissima vox of scripture.  Alongside this, it has seemed to me, especially in listening to young ministers interact biblically with the ethical issues of the day (perhaps, preeminent among them, same-sex marriage) that there has been a consistent erosion of inerrancy and its implications among those who self-identify as Evangelicals.  Outwardly, it has seemed to me that the fundamental issue facing modern American culture is the question of authority in general, and the possibility of epistemological confidence specifically.

Perhaps the seething cauldron (to use Augustine’s memorable image of his time in Carthage – albeit in quite another vein) of my own neuroses on these matters is what made the impact of Thornbury’s proposal on this reader so intense.  I felt time and again, while reading Thornbury, that here was a proposal that shot the gap betwixt Scylla and Charybdis  with the careful guidance of a mind that I still marvel is only in its early forties.

Let me also say that if ever there was a book due a second reading, it is this one.  I intend to start again very soon.  Thus, these reflections are, in my mind, thoughts offered en route.

In short, Thornbury is proposing that Evangelicalism once again consider the rich, fertile, provocative vision of Evangelicalism found in the writings of Carl F.H. Henry.  This is a proposed Evangelicalism that rejects epistemological hubris on the one hand but stands confidently in the inerrant Word of God on the other.  This is a proposed Evangelicalism that eschews the myopic negativism of fundamentalism while speaking clearly and carefully to a lost culture today.  It is non-entrenched Evangelicalism that yet has a sense of perimeter and circumference.  It is an intellectually-engaged Evangelicalism, interacting with acumen in the marketplace of ideas on the basis of the radical explanatory power of the gospel rightly conceived.  It is an Evangelicalism that stands gladly alongside secular opposition to injustice and evil while not jettisoning its distinct character as the Body of Christ in the process.  It is an Evangelicalism that once again understands sin institutionally and corporately and not only individually, but that still sees itself as the purveyor of good news to lost men and women.  It is an appropriately ecumenical Evangelicalism, that yet does not abandon ecclesial distinctives.

The thought of Carl F.H. Henry is, for Thornbury, a repository from which such ideas can be faithfully mined.  Yet, one gathers this is no mere professorial crush for Thornbury.  He has read Henry widely and he has buttressed his central contentions carefully.  He is no blind Henry apologist, as I read him.  Rather, in seeking to “make Carl Henry cool again,” Thornbury really believes and convincingly demonstrates that here we can find goods in the Henry cupboard sufficient for the reformation needed.

Thornbury’s proposal for the church to demonstrate radical Christ-likeness in local communities was phenomenal.  The fact that this aspect of his proposal was grounded within a decidedly Christian intellectual framework, as opposed to being grounded despite or contra such a framework, was refreshing and strengthened his position.

As far the book itself, it is very well written, very engaging, and a clarion clear.  Thornbury has read widely and he interacts impressively with a variety of theological, philosophical, and cultural questions, issues, and debates.  In short, he has demonstrated in the writing of his proposal that which he is proposing:  irenic but tough interaction with world views Christian and otherwise from a gospel-grounded vantage point.

Read this book.

Cormac McCarthy’s Screenplay, The Counselor

For what it’s worth, I consider Cormac McCarthy to be the world’s greatest living author.  I do not say that lightly.  I truly mean it.  I am not a fan of all of his works, but I am of most.  All the Pretty Horses, No Country for Old Men, and The Road stand out as exemplary reasons why I would say such a thing.  McCarthy deals consistently with the big issues (life, death, meaning, love, morality, and God), and he does so in a way that evidences a keen mind and, I have long suspected, a Christian mind.  His writing is frequently too beautiful for words, and there are times when it soars.  When McCarthy is good, he is better than anybody.  He is not Faulkner, but he is in that kind of company.

This is what made reading The Counselor so very difficult.  It is a screenplay, but screenplays can still be vehicles of great writing.  Instead, what I see in The Counselor is a work as off-putting as his novel, Child of God, without the great writing of the latter.

In short, The Counselor struck this reader as a tawdry, unnecessarily explicit, shabby replica of No Country for Old Men.  Honestly, the two stories are very similar:  a man gets caught up in a drug deal believing he can control it and believing that the money is worth the risk, without understanding the inky blackness and amorality of the souls of those who live in the nihilistic underbelly of the world, leading to the inevitable demise of the person and all that they hold dear.  The basic points of the stories are the same:  there is a viciousness in the world that takes one’s breath away, and it can challenge the sanity and break the hearts of those who want to live in this fallen world with anything like a semblance of meaning, virtue, beauty, and transcendence.  It is an important lesson, and one McCarthy is especially adept at telling.  Regrettably, the moral gets lost in the nearly pornographic language and the overstressed explicitness, profanity, and gutter talk.

Look.  McCarthy isn’t writing for LifeWay.  I get that and I’m thankful for it.  He is not for the prudish, to be sure.  However, this was just too much, and I do not flinch from saying that sometimes it’s possible for a great writer to get so close to the darkness he is writing about that that darkness manifests itself even in the writing.  Moreso, the writing was bad and shallow.  I known, I know:  it’s a screenplay.  I get the limitations that come with the medium.  Regardless, it feels like he was trying to write a screenplay, if that makes sense.  One hopes this will be the end of this kind of experiment for McCarthy.

The Counselor is a disappointing read.

It is regrettable…especially for the world’s greatest living writer.

An Interview with Dr. Ray Van Neste on “The Lord’s Supper in the Context of the Local Church”

Dr. Ray Van Neste is Assistant Professor of Christian Studies and Director of the R.C. Ryan Center for Biblical Studies at Union University in Jackson, TN.  He is also one of the pastors of Cornerstone Community Church in Jackson.  He has authored numerous works on the Bible and the church.  His website is “Oversight of Souls.”

An Interview With Ray Van Neste on

“The Lord’s Supper in the Context of the Local Church”

rayDr. Van Neste, I would like to thank you for your insightful essay, “The Lord’s Supper in the Context of the Local Church,” found in the 2010 publication, The Lord’s Supper (Broadman & Holman Academic).  You begin your essay by pointing to a diminished appreciation for healthy ritual and symbolism among modern Southern Baptists as a factor in our frequently weak approach to the Lord’s Supper.  You also mention the negative and morose approach we often take to the Supper.  I wonder if you would include a kind of neo-gnosticism among these factors, of the type that Harold Bloom and Philip Lee mentioned some years back?  Is there a gnostic anti-materialist strain in Baptist ecclesiology and soteriology that favors the impartation of knowledge through non-material means over the physical elements of worship?

Yes, I believe so, though I don’t think this is a position which is thought out or often explicitly argued. But it is “in the air” so to speak. We seem to turn away from the earthiness of Christianity (and of life in general) in many ways. Somewhere C. S. Lewis spoke well of this issue noting specifically the earthiness of the Lord’s Supper. We are so drawn to an otherworldly, often monastic, view of spirituality. Losing our Reformational (and scriptural) moorings, too many people think of growing in godliness as withdrawing from day to day life. This has a lot of negative implications for us. C. S. Lewis has been very helpful to me in this area.

 

I wonder if you could react a bit to Luther’s statement (and I’m paraphrasing here) that he would rather drink blood with the papists than mere wine with the enthusiasts.  Are you sympathetic to the sentiment behind this assertion?

It can be tricky to align yourself too quickly with some of Luther’s retorts! But, in general, there is a significant problem in Baptist churches of being more concerned about what the Lord’s Supper isn’t than what it is. When we stress merely what it isn’t, then we leave people wondering, “Why bother?” It isn’t anything real. It’s only a symbol. It’s not necessary for anything it seems, so why bother? As Millard Erickson has said, Baptists have produced the doctrine of the real absence of Christ!

We need much more constructive theology discussing what the Supper is, what it is supposed to communicate and how it aids us.

 

Must Baptists be Zwinglian in our approach to the Supper?

There is some debate as to how “Zwinglian” Zwingli was, though I am not up on the most recent aspects of that conversation. I do think, with Zwingli, that the Supper is a memorial, that is, it functions to cause us to remember. Jesus said this. The question, though, is whether or not there is more going on. Numerous Baptists through the centuries have affirmed a view of the Supper closely akin to Calvin’s view, that Christ is spiritually present with his people at the Table. So, Baptist views have varied.

I think the “fellowship” language in 1 Cor 10:16-17 is quite strong, suggesting this is not a mere memorial. It is at least profession of faith.

 

I’m struck by your use of sacramental language.  In what sense is it appropriate to refer to the Lord’s Supper as “a sacrament”?

Yes, I chose to use this language as I noticed that prominent Baptist authors in the past (e.g. B. H. Carroll) had readily used it. When I use this term, like Baptists before me, I do not mean the Roman Catholic sense that the action in itself causes grace. I am concerned that Baptists, in reaction to Catholic overstatement of what happens at the Table, have downplayed what happens there. You often here much more about what it is not than what it is. Along with other Protestants, we can affirm that the sacraments are sure witnesses of God’s grace toward us. They are God ordained means of God’s blessing as they bear witness to the gospel.

 

Your call for open communion seems to go against the grain of many current conservative Southern Baptist academic voices.  I found it refreshing, and I agree with you.  I found your arguments to be among the more persuasive that I’ve read.  Why do you believe that British Baptists have been more open to open communion than American Baptists?

Thank you. That is probably the most controversial portion of my chapter, though a key part in my mind.

This is a good question, but one I’m not sure I can answer. I haven’t looked into this enough to provide a sure footed answer, but I’ll make a couple of observations. Some will probably note that British Baptists on the whole are far less conservative than Baptists in America and suggest this explains their openness to open communion. However, I don’t think this argument will work since open communion can be found among British Baptists well before the slide to a more liberal theology took place.

Another possible contributing factor could be the impact of Landmarkism in the US and the fact there was no similar impact in the UK. The strength of Landmarkism kept many in the US from addressing the issue along the way. This would still not be a full explanation, but perhaps it is a contributing factor.

 

Finally, the one part of your essay that gave me pause was when you noted that, in your opinion, it is not appropriate to take the Lord’s Supper to homebound members as that would be an un-churchly observance (my phrasing there, not yours).  I appreciate your own humility in saying that.  You were not dogmatic about it.  I also get the logic of what you are saying.  But I am thinking about a time some years ago when a brother in Christ flew with me to visit another church member on his deathbed in a hospital in another state.  I took the Lord’s Supper to him.  The three of us had prayer together, read the Word, and observed the Supper.  It was a powerful, moving experience that my friend and I still speak of.  I am not trying to elevate feeling above clear inference here, but it did seem to me that, at that time, the church had gathered.  For instance, there are churches with scarcely more than 3 or 4 people in them.  Respectfully, I’m curious to know how what we did in that hospital room differs from a small church of the same number of believers meeting and observing the Supper?  

Yes, as you noted, I am more tentative here as we are working from inferences. I don’t want to be adamant where the Scripture is less explicit. We are here considering issues of best practice.

However, if it is a church ordinance, then the difference between the hospital gathering and a small church is that the small church recognizes itself and is recognized by others as a church. The hospital gathering is not so recognized or structured.

I recognize the tension, but I also wonder what sort of parameters we have if this moves outside the gathered worship of the church. Can families observe the Supper at home as they see fit? What about retreats, conferences and seminars? The scriptures do not say only pastors can administer the supper (as most Baptist documents recognize), so we could have a few students in a dorm room celebrating Communion.

Communion in Scripture seems to be rooted in corporate worship and it seems best and safest to me to keep it there.

Mike Resnick’s Santiago

Santiago_(Mike_Resnick_novel_-_front_cover)My friend Darrell Paul told me I needed to read Mike Resnick’s science fiction cult classic, Santiago: A Myth of the Far Future.  I have recently finished it, having read some of it to Mrs. Richardson and having listened to the rest of it read via Audible.  I simply wanted to give a brief nod to Santiago as a glorious example of scifi pulp fiction that was a guilty pleasure to read/hear.

The book is essentially a Western set in the future in space.  Sebastian Caine, a bounty hunter, is pursuing the ultimate prize:  Santiago.  Santiago is a nearly mythical figure, the greatest outlaw of them all.  The legends about him abound and his exploits have created a shroud of fame and infamy before which all observers stand in awe and fear.  Caine is hot on Santiago’s trail, planet hopping and following the clues…along with most every other bounty hunter in the solar system.  Along the way he meets fascinating, colorful, and weird characters.  Some of those meetings result in temporary traveling companions and some end in fights to the death, but all result in fascinating exchanges with memorable and odd characters.

Above all is the shadow of the deadliest bounty hunter of all, The Angel, who is likewise pursuing Santiago.  Resnick’s depiction of The Angel is truly chilling.  The reader will feel a palpable sense of dread and awe when The Angel is being discussed or depicted.  Resnick outdid himself on that one.

In all honesty, there is not a lot that I can say that would not give away key elements of the plot.  So I’ll just say that if you would like a book to read on vacation, or a break from serious reading, Santiago may just be your thing.  It’s not Shakespeare, but it’s good enough, and it’s highly entertaining.  There are some objectionable elements, and I suppose I’d give the book a PG-13 rating if pressed, but it’s a fun read, with some interesting twists and turns, and, above all, some characters that will stay with you for a while.

Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood

Hickock_and_SmithTruman Capote’s In Cold Blood was published in 1966 as, ostensibly, the first book in a new genre:  the true crime novel.  It chronicles the 1959 murder of the Clutter family by two recently-released convicts named Richard Hickock and Perry Smith.  It is a well known and controversial book that took the nation by storm when first published and that has enthralled and troubled readers ever since.

While in prison, Hickock and Smith learn of a wealthy Kansas family from another prisoner, Floyd Wells, who used to work for Herb Clutter.  He shares that he believes Mr. Clutter has a safe, or something like it, with likely not less than $10,000 in it and any given time.  Upon their release, Hickock and Smith drive to the Clutter home, tie up and brutally murder the family of four (including the two teenage children), and then make their way to Mexico.  They come back into the States where, a few weeks later, they are arrested after Wells informs the Warden that he thinks the Clutter killers must be Hickock and Smith, seeing as though he had shared with them information about the family.  The two are arrested and subsequently hanged for the crime.

Truman Capote and his friend Harper Lee researched the facts surrounding the case and Capote was granted unprecedented access to Hickock and Smith after their arrests.  He was also present at the hanging of the two.  Two movies have been made depicting the process of Capote’s writing of the book:  Capote (2005) and Infamous (2006).  The novel itself has been made into a movie more than once.  This 1996 version is available on YouTube.  I’ll embed it here.

The book is a jarring depiction of human depravity.  It must be said that Capote’s work is enthralling and captivating.  He certainly attempts to humanize Hickock and Smith, telling in great detail the stories of their lives.  At the same time, Capote never shied away from the sheer monstrous wickedness of their actions.  I, at any rate, did not feel that he was trying to excuse the murderers, though clearly he was trying to say that these two did not spring out of a vacuum:  their pasts contributed to their actions.

I was struck by the various interactions the prisoners had with other characters (again, all more or less based on actual occurrences – the accuracy of the book remains a subject of great debate) on religious matters.  Hickock and Smith remain unmoved to the bitter end by the thought of the existence of God and of coming judgment for their sins.  Tellingly, the Perry’s attorney attempted to enter this jailhouse painting of Jesus that Perry had done into evidence.

mcatee_jesus_t460

The general idea seemed to be that anybody who could paint such a painting could not be all bad.  Regrettably, that is not the case.  Lots of people know the image of Jesus without knowing Jesus.  Regardless, there is a telling lesson in the defense’s attempt to submit this image of Christ (which the judge did not allow, by the way).

In Cold Blood is a riveting, unsettling account of terrifying acts of brutality committed by two human beings who grew up in tough situations but nonetheless made the decision to take the lives of a good and decent family who did not deserve the fate they met.  It is, in my opinion, worthy of consideration.  It is a chilling but necessary look at the heart of fallen man.

clutter_family_1

David VanDrunen’s Living in God’s Two Kingdoms

David VanDrunen’s Living in God’s Two Kingdoms is subtitled, “A Biblical Vision For Christianity and Culture.”  The book lives up to that, though not without making some controversial assertions along the way.

I think it may be helpful to provide VanDrunen’s own summary of his position, which he offers near the end of the book:

God willed that human beings should attain life in the world-to-come through their cultural labors.  The first Adam, the original representative of the human race, failed to offer perfect obedience to God in his cultural task and plunged the world into sin and misery.  But God sent the second and last Adam, the Lord Jesus Christ, to atone for the sin of the first Adam and to accomplish his task. Christ has rendered perfect obedience to God in every area of life and has won for his people an everlasting inheritance in the world-to-come.  Already we are citizens of that kingdom and from the depths of our heart look forward to the day when the new heaven and new earth will be revealed.  In so doing we acknowledge that our share in the world-to-come rests solely on the work of Christ.

In the present age, God has called his people to be citizens of heaven who live as pilgrims in this world.  We do not take up the first Adam’s task of earning, achieving, or in any way ushering in the world-to-come through our cultural labors, for Christ has already done this for us perfectly and sufficiently.  Instead, we take up our cultural activity in grateful obedience to God and for his glory, recognizing that they are temporary and fleeting, always remembering that “the present form of this world is passing away” (1 Cor. 7:31).  Though each of us at death “shall take nothing for his toil that he may carry away in his hand” (Eccles. 5:15), by faith we trust that God is pleased to use our cultural obedience to accomplish his inscrutable purposes in history and will acknowledge all of our good works on the day of Christ’s return.  Until then may we all take up our cultural activities with joyful and generous hearts, with charity to our enemies, and with the modesty and humility that befits the servants of Christ.

That is a most helpful summary.  VanDrunen’s book is a working out of that thesis in ways that, overall, buttress the validity of his central contentions.  The Kingdom of God and the kingdom of the world (what VanDrunen calls “the redemptive Kingdom” and “the common kingdom”) have been heavy on my mind for some time and especially as I have been working through the Sermon on the Mount.  Furthermore, the seismic cultural shifts in modern American society have, I believe, jolted a great many followers of Jesus to think more deeply about Kingdom theology and the implications of such for our lives today.

VanDrunen offers some helpful insights.  His linking of “the common kingdom” with the Noahic covenant of Genesis 8-9 is most helpful.  He sees here a covenant between God and the people of the earth in general, irrespective of whether or not they are His followers.  The earth will end one day and, with it, the labors of all who lived thereon.  The redemptive Kingdom may be traced first to Abraham and then, definitively and consummately, to the Lord Jesus.  The promises and mores and economy of this Kingdom are for the people of God and are without end.

But the people of God live in both Kingdoms.  Therefore, we are to seek the common good through responsible citizenship and through our membership in the communities in which we live.  But our work in these communities is not eternal work.  It will end one day.  It has value, to be sure, but relative value.  Our work for the Kingdom of God is part of God’s eternal plan of redemption.  Thus, serving in local government is important, but it is limited.  Leading somebody to Christ or proclaiming the gospel, however, is redemptive Kingdom work.  He is not calling us to abandon one for the other.  Rather, he is calling us to think rightly about what it is we are doing and why we are doing it.  (This would guard against, for instance, the naive thought that we can usher in the Kingdom of God through social effort.  The fact that we cannot does not render social effort insignificant, just relatively so.)

It is a helpful way to look at things and is, in my opinion, fundamentally biblical.  It resonates well with what Jesus was doing and saying in the New Testament, as well as with the apostolic proclamation of the gospel.

Some of the ways that VanDrunen works out the implications of this view are interesting.  For example, his assertion that while individual Christians or groups of Christians may rightly care for the poor, the example of the New Testament would suggest that the church, as the church, primarily meets the basic needs of the church itself. In other words, there is no clear, New Testament call for the church to try to solve the problem of societal poverty in general, simply the poverty of those in the church.  However, Christians, as Christians, may work to alleviate the plight of the poor.  Now, there is something to this, to be sure.  The church dare not neglect the needs of its own people while embarking on a general policy of community poverty reduction, but I cannot help but ask whether or not the distinction between “the church” and “groups of Christians” is a distinction of any real significance?  The clear biblical and prophetic warnings against injustice by the rich as well as the prophetic denunciations of those who indifferently watch the suffering of the poor would, as I see it, place care for the poor clearly in the parameters of appropriate church action so long as care for those in the Kingdom of God is being provided.

Furthermore, VanDrunen’s little excursus on the regulative principle was problematic.  He asserts that music is clearly present in the New Testament and, as such, is a fundamental requirement of Christian work, but other expressions, like drama, should not be imposed on people who may not care for such.  To put it simply, this notion opens up a whole can of worms about which I am curious.  For instance, the New Testament makes no reference to instruments.  Should musical instruments be imposed on people?  And what kinds of songs did the early church likely sing?  should we limit our singing to these?  And what of the unaddressed topic of church architecture?  Should we have church buildings?  What should they look like?  Should buildings be imposed on people who may not care for them?  Etc., etc…

To be sure, these are quibbles and do not negate the central contention or theme of the book, which is, I repeat, biblical and very helpful.  If you’d like to consider the Kingdom of God and the kingdom of the world in a helpful and thought-provoking way, you’ll enjoy this book.