I read an interesting article from Christianity Today’s website on the rise of Calvinism (Reformed theology) among young people. The article states that while the Emergent conversation gets a lot of press, the renewed interested in Calvinism is more widespread and profound. That brings up, of course, the continuing debate between predestination (God’s sovereignty) and free-will.
I know that Reformed theology deals with the issue of free-will. I was raised an Arminian within the Wesleyan Holiness tradition, and while I’m certainly open to correction/change, I just can’t get past what seems in the end to be our human inability to have anything to do with what happens to our eternal being – or even what I’m going to type within the next few minutes. On this issue, despite the arguments otherwise, we still end up automatons under this theological system.
Walter Bauman, the retired Systematic Theologian from Trinity Lutheran Seminary in Columbus, OH, and the man under whom I spent a year studying Systematic Theology (far better than my course at General – sorry!), said that anyone attempting to have an integrated understanding of theology must start somewhere. While many systematic theologians begin with Creation, he said he cannot begin anywhere other than the Ascension of Jesus. That is where his system begins and from which all things flow.
If I were to attempt to develop a systematic theology, I’ve come to realize that my starting point has to be free-will. If, and it is a big if, we are created in the image of God, then I think part of that image is our potential for free choice and honest creativity within our earthly lives. I know that many things act against the realization of that potential for free choice, but I cannot move outside the possibility that it truly does exist. We, creatures made in God’s image, are free moral agents. If we do not have the ability to make honest and true choices, then I cannot get past the idea that God is the ultimate perpetuator of evil, harm, and all that is caught up within theodicy. Of course, within God’s sovereignty, He can be all those things.
I don’t think there is any conflict between TULIP and Arminianism/Wesleyanism. In God’s sovereignty, He can choose to know or not know, to give true free-will or not. To say that we have the ability to reject God’s offer of salvation does not impinge upon God’s complete and full sovereignty! It just says that God has granted us that ability.
If all things are already decided, then what’s the point?
What about “Free-will theism?”
From the article:

The theological depth attracted Harris. “Once you’re exposed to [doctrine],” he said, “you see the richness in it for your own soul, and you’re ruined for anything else.”
He notices the same attraction among his cohorts. “I just think there’s such a hunger for the transcendent and for a God who is not just sitting around waiting for us to show up so that the party can get started.”

I think he describes Anglicanism quite well! 🙂
I know a couple who are pioneering a Presbyterian Church in America church here in New York. They come to St. Paul’s (Anglican High Church – Anglo-Catholic) periodically. He said that if he ever left the PCA, he would run as fast as he could to the highest Episcopal Church he could find.
Another part:

“When you first become a believer, almost everyone is an Arminian, because you feel like you made a decision,” Watkins said.
Watkins didn’t stop with election. An enlarged view of God’s authority changed the way she viewed evangelism, worship, and relationships. Watkins articulated how complementary roles for men and women go hand in hand with this type of Calvinism. “I believe God is sovereign and has ordered things in a particular way,” she explained. Just as “he’s chosen those who are going to know him before the foundations of the earth,” she said, “I don’t want to be rebelling against the way God ordered men and women to relate to one another.”

I think this is where problems arise. She states that she doesn’t want to rebel against God’s sovereign created order – for men and women. Is she willing to say that our culturally defined understanding of what constitutes men and women, their roles and responsibilities, right relationships between them, etc. might be wrong? It is one thing to say that we do not want to rebel against God’s created order and another thing to take what we believe right now (even within the long tradition of the Church) to be absolute. While I actually agree with her desire to align her life and beliefs with God’s Way of things, I know that I can easily mix up God’s will for my own. Wives, be subservient to your husbands. There can be no consideration of the possibility of gay relationships. Etc…..

Today, the UN assembles. President Bush will be speaking at the main Library this morning, which is a block away from The Pension Groups’ offices. All the side streets around us are being closed down.
Another day in life of New Yorkers as they try to make it through traffic grid-lock. Thank goodness I don’t have to drive.
I moved this weekend. I’m just tickled pink! After a year and a half of nomadic living, I finally have a permanent place! It is kind of fun discovering the content of boxes that I haven’t seen for a year and a half. It will be even more amazing when I move the rest of my stored stuff from Ohio – haven’t seen that stuff in four and a half years. I kept asking myself, “Why did I pack this?”

I caught myself the other day responding to the cultural zeitgeist of pro- and anti-anything that doesn’t smack of mythical-America (a bucolic rendition of the 1950’s era that centers on male White Anglo-Saxon Protestants and doesn’t consider the plight of anyone not in positions of political, economic, or cultural power – anyone other than male WASP’s). I’m not a liberal, but I am a Christian. That means that my focus is not (or should not be!) on the accumulation of power or wealth or the fear-based need to protect and preserve what I do have.
I’m a male WASP, and I know I have benefited from what some liberals like to call my “skin-privilege,” and I suppose I could add to that my “gender-privilege” or perhaps even my “religion-privilege.” From my tending-towards-libertarian-conservative perspective, I react negatively to notions like “skin privilege” and the politically correct demands that all people of the world have to be uncritically accepted and loved and esteemed regardless of the actual outcomes of their philosophies, beliefs, or actions. (I know that few people, even the most politically-correct minded liberals, do not say that we should be uncritical, but the way it works out in the world suggests this is the end result.)
I believe, in general, that the free-enterprise system and competition help the most people, that Western Civilization despite its flaws is still the best why of conceiving of life in the world, that all cultures are not equal, that the cult of Self-Esteem particularly evident in American educational pedagogies is counter productive, that there are differences in the sexes, and that I don’t have to feel guilty for the atrocities that past generations have perpetrated against the vulnerable – those non-WASP’s who had no power. Oh, and I believe that Jesus Christ really is the Son of God and the only way to the Father, despite the idiocy of many of His followers – myself included.
Okay, so that is my very culturally-current American way of thinking. Shoot fire, we are the greatest thing the world has ever seen and we are God’s very own blessed people and the world – every last human bein’ in the world – should just bend over backwards with gratitude that they can walk on the same planet that we Americans dominate! But, then comes the Gospel of Jesus the Christ. Suddenly, this very American way of thinking doesn’t seem so good and right. Hyper-individualism, hyper-materialism, hyper-busyness, hyper-selfishness, the drive for hegemony and empire, the loss of the sense of community, the repudiation of self-reflection and education, the push for banality in our cultural life, and the growing inability to love our neighbors as we certainly love ourselves just doesn’t seem very workable or attractive any longer. Is there any wonder why so many people in the world are rejecting so much of what we have come to represent – contrary to the high-minded ideals we like to think we project to the world?
If I am serious about being a follower of Jesus, then I have to lay aside all these notions. As a Christian whose home is not here, may American identity is irrelevant; my desire to attain and preserve power or privilege is inappropriate; my proclivity to indulge my lusts of whatever sort and be undisciplined is perverse; my selfishness is destructive; and the fear that grips me as those who have traditionally been marginalized gain more power and influence is very sad and dead wrong with regard to the call of Jesus to be a servant to all people. The two greatest Commandments – To love God with my entire being and then to Love my neighbor as myself – are profoundly difficult and profoundly contrary to the present culture in which I find myself.
I am losing my place in this world – that place that has traditionally been granted to male WASP’s. How will I respond? I hope I will respond in the way of Jesus’ example. I caught myself responding with indignation (really out of fear). How will I respond, tomorrow? What opportunities and freedoms will be realized by my loss?

This morning: listening to Bird York and Aimee Mann over and over again on the train into Manhattan.

There are all kinds of organizations that are popping up, adding to those already established, and taking sides concerning the troubles in our Church. I just learned of a new one from the “liberal” perspective that is outraged by what happened at General Convention – a capitulation to those forces opposed to “the full inclusion of all people.” This group adds to those who are outraged at what happened at General Convention – a capitulation to those who will not uphold the Gospel, as they understand it. This one adds to those who are thrilled with what happened at General Convention – do they know what really happened at General Convention?
You know, I just don’t want to be involved in any of these organizations or in any of this mess. They distill complex issues into very narrow and dogmatic positions that I just cannot agree with – “liberal” or “conservative.”
What am I to do? Where do I belong? Certainly, I am to be faithful and continuing on with the work God has given me to do. But, there comes a point where dealing with all these interests groups within the Church and with Church leadership that refuses to lead gets the best of me. Where is the honesty, the self-giving, the humility, and the integrity that God calls us to? Where are the signs of wisdom and insight and righteousness that Solomon calls us to?
I don’t know.

I was walking out of the subway this morning, just off the train and up the first set of steps, and everything went just a bit blurry – kind of otherworldly – and I thought this whole situation just seems so surreal. Is this really my life?
I’m up by 5:30 am (earlier, sometimes, because I just wake up). Listen to NPR while I get ready for work. Try to do some sit-ups, push-ups, and stretching – I have sciatica. Take a shower after the water warms up. Shave, and all that stuff. Then, after ironing a shirt or some such thing, if need be, I try to sit for a bit of quite-time, devotional time, prayer time, Bible-reading time, some time where I can actually encounter God. “Try” is the word. Too many times I become distracted by some thing or another and I end up not doing any sit-ups (which can also be attributed to laziness) or having a devotional time.
Leave to catch the subway by 7:00 am. Go down into a very steamy and hot tunnel and stand and stand and wait and sometimes read. I inevitably just missed the train I wanted. It happens all the time. I’m fated. So, if I’m fortunate, I can sit down, otherwise I will stand for around 20-30 minutes riding through tunnels under Brooklyn, the East River, and Manhattan. I arrive at my destination – 42nd Street. Walk up the first set of stairs, through the tunnel, and through the turnstiles.
There, on my left, is the newsstand, the little florist shop, and lots of people milling around and going somewhere. The proprietors are not native to this country. I talked with a young cab-driver last Saturday. He was born in Bangladesh and came to this country when he was eight. He has only been driving a cab for a couple of months and hates it – hates it! His dream was to open a candy store. Good for him. He said that in this country that anyone can make money. He would work 11, 12 hours a day in his candy store – no problem. In this country, no one bothers you and you can make money, he said. The proprietors of the newsstand and the little florist shop work all day in very hot conditions, underground, everyday, and they make a living.
Up another set of stairs and suddenly, open space, Bryant Park, and another non-native man standing at the top for the subway exit passing out free “subway newspapers.” He says something, but I have no idea what he says. He is older. I don’t sense anger, bitterness, or guile. He is making a living. He is making some money. He is taking care of himself. He works and tries and is honorable in his efforts to support himself and perhaps his family. I think, at this age, this guy should be heading for retirement and enjoying his grandchildren, not standing out in the weather trying to get rid of the pile of newspapers at his feet.
Walk a few blocks and get my orange scone and medium coffee at Au Bon Pain. Sometimes, something else to eat, but always a coffee – always. Cross 37th St. at 5th to the produce cart. The man working the cart is always there – during the coldest days of winter and the hottest days of summer. He is always there (well, almost always – after one particular snow storm last winter he never made it in). I buy my banana for 35 cents. He is not from this country. He works hard, everyday and no matter the weather. He is nice. He generally smiles. He knows some of his repeat customers and the chat or joke a bit.
March to the office. I sit at a computer for hours and pretend to be a data-analyst. I play with numbers for 7 hours or so a day. Numbers. 7 or 8 hours a day. This is my life?
It seems so surreal at times. Don’t get me wrong, please, the job I have is with a great bunch of people. Dedicated and hard working. They all make a whole lot more money then the newsstand worker, the florist guy, the produce-cart man. I get paid well and it enables me to work with the people of St. Paul’s. To learn the ropes of church stuff.
Yesterday, I was solo for the first time.

There are certain words that strike me for some strange reason. I came across one of those words while finishing a short story by Truman Capote. The word? “Akimbo”
A few words that strike me ~
Akimbo:

1. Placed in such a way as to have the hands on the hips and the elbows bowed outward: children standing with arms akimbo.
2. Being in a bent, bowed, or arched position: “There he remained, dead to the world, limbs akimbo, until we left” (Alex Shoumatoff).
[Middle English in kenebowe : in, in; see in1 + kenebowe(kene-, of unknown meaning + bowe, bow, bend; see bow3).]

Vainglory:

1. Boastful, unwarranted pride in one’s accomplishments or qualities.
2. Vain, ostentatious display.
[Middle English vein glory, from Old French vaine gloire, from Latin vna glria, empty pride : vna, feminine of vnus, empty; see vain + glria, glory, pride.]

Vouchsafe

To condescend to grant or bestow (a privilege, for example); deign.
[Middle English vouchen sauf, to warrant as safe : vouchen, to warrant; see vouch + sauf, safe; see safe.]

I find it interesting that I have never encountered this word with the connotation of condescension. Perhaps in the vernacular, but if you look at the word’s origins, a sense of condescension doesn’t seem to be there. Of course, my encounter with the word comes primarily from the Book of Common Prayer and in an ecclesial setting.

I am at the point where I can notice things going on around me once again. I’m about over the not-really-but-almost panicky feeling (mild anxiety) one gets when everything is unfamiliar and takes twice the time to accomplish and you have to rush to catch the train or subway or a parking space where the car doesn’t have to be moved for another 5 days!
There is this rather large woman I’ve seen walking her dog the last four days straight. She always wears black, and although it looks like the same clothing I certainly hope it is not. I said hello to her yesterday morning while I marched to the subway – sweating. She grunted I think – perhaps attempting to say something, then clearing her throat as I marched on. The funny thing is, her dog matches her. He is a very chocolaty colored lab (I think) and very over weight. They both lumber along down the street as he does his business. Now, I’ve seen men and their dogs and marvel at how they truly do look alike, but this is the first time I’ve seen such a striking resemblance between a woman and her dog.
Walking home from the subway this evening – a bit cooler than the last few days – I saw a thin-ish, artsy kind-of-guy coming out of his apartment just ahead of me. He had a ponytail and loose tank-top, and he reminded me of my friend John. (I was John’s best man and because I am pathetically lazy at keeping-up with friends I want to stay in contact with, I haven’t spoken to John in a very long time.) Anyway, this man had a bundle of laundry on his shoulder and his young son in tow. This happens 1,000 times a moment, I’m sure, but I was privileged to see it: as the man walked between parked cars heading for the other side of the street with his son quickly trailing behind, his son reached for his shirt to grab hold of him. He tried a couple times before finely getting a fistful of shirt to hung onto. Halfway across the street, the man reached down and took hold of his son’s hand, effortlessly, quickly, instinctively. No words passed between them, just the deep familiarity of son and father. For me, today, it was simply a very touching moment in time – something done so unthinkingly to be so common and yet so touching.
I’ve been in my current neighborhood, Park Slope in Brooklyn, for a month now. I say ‘current’ because this is just another in a string of places I’ve had to live and will be living for over a year and a half. Being ‘homeless’ for over a year has taken its toll, but I can’t claim that moniker – while it is true that I have been living out of boxes because I haven’t had a place of my own, the reality is that I have stayed in some very nice places. On the Close for two months after graduation, Llewellyn Park in West Orange, NJ for 10 months, to name two, and now in Park Slope.
It’s the same with being Cherokee – I am and can claim the designation, but I will not because I have not lived as one, I have not had the hardships, I do not have the awareness, and it would be very hypocritical and unjust of me to try to claim such an identity. Come November, Lord willing, I will finally be in my own place at St. Andrew’s House in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, where a SINGLE FLOOR apartment of a newly renovated brownstone is going for something like $1.6 million.
In this neighborhood, Park Slope, I live in an incredible townhouse on 6th Ave. owned by a couple from St. Paul’s. They are letting me stay here rent-free (except for next week, when I need to move all my stuff once again into the rectory while the rector is on vacation, which he took at this time because he knew I needed a place to stay and felt sorry for me). They are great, but I’m tired of it all. The neighborhood is great – just two blocks from Prospect Park with lots of great restaurants and interesting people to watch. I just want to be in a place I can honestly hand my hat, but I feel a bit guilty when I complain because I see around me those who are truly homeless and without resources. I have been provided for, God has been gracious with me.

This morning at 7:00 am when I left to catch the subway, it was 84 degrees Fahrenheit and the humidity was high. I know it is much hotter in other places and the humidity is worse, too, but I’m not there nor would I want to live there. The equatorial regions of the planet may be spectacular in places, but I’m sure the people already living in those areas don’t need one more person’s body-heat adding to the already stifling conditions.
Last night when I went to get something to eat, I was surprised to see so few people on the street – so strange for an otherwise beautiful evening. I guess people just stayed indoors, and they were smart to do so. Today, there is an expectation that the actual temperature will reach 104 degrees. That’s hot, no matter where you are.

Something is going to happen.