Open Theism - What is it Anyway?
I read a term today I'd never heard of before - upon reading its definition, I should have heard of it. Why? Because as a millennial Christian, its the form of faith presented most often to me. It is Open Theism. Although its a newbie to me, I thought I'd flag it here for a couple of reasons: 1) I believe we ought to know what we believe and 2) we ought to think about the contradictions it presents us with.
By means of a super-short introduction to the term, I once again turn to the font of all well-referenced and researched wisdom - Wikipedia.
"Open theism says that since God and humans are free, God's knowledge is dynamic and God's providence flexible. While several versions of traditional theism picture God's knowledge of the future as a singular, fixed trajectory, open theism sees it as a plurality of branching possibilities, with some possibilities becoming settled as time moves forward.Thus, the future as well as God's knowledge of it is open (hence "open" theism)." Read more about it here.
Theologians have flagged a few problems with this. One is that classical theism paints us a picture of God fully determining the future. This is the predestination doctrine, if you like.
Other theologians believe that God gives us free choice, but His omniscience means that He already knows the future and what choices we make.
Enter Open Theism. Open theists hold that: "These versions of classical theism are out of sync with: 1. the biblical concept of God and 2. the biblical understanding of divine and creaturely freedom and/or result in incoherence. Open Theists tend to emphasize that God's most fundamental character trait is love, and that this trait is unchangeable. They also (in contrast to traditional theism) tend to hold that the biblical portrait is of a God deeply moved by creation, experiencing a variety of feelings in response to it." (Once again. Thanks Wikipedia.)
It seems to be a doctrine I was raised with, which is funny given its relative newness to the theological world. Apparently it was Richard Rice who pioneered the Open Theism train of thought in 1980 with his book "The Openness of God." Since then, many a modern theologian has published on the matter.
It raises a question or two, and its conclusion seems to be one that both atheists and open theists agree on. That is the traditional characteristics of God don't make sense. If He is omniscient, seeing all whether past present or future, He can't be omnipotent and all-good. If so, He couldn't see evil and still let it happen.
So that's one big ouch for the doctrine, and I have to say its an uncomfortable moment when you read an atheist argument and go "Hmmm. Fair point."
There are three other problems I see with Open Theism. They are the issues of predestination, prayer and what we do with free will if God can just re-write the future.
Super quickly, because this so wasn't going to be a full expose, just a quick post:
To decide whether or not Open Theism is a doctrine you subscribe to, you need to decide whether or not you believe in predestination. Now, this isn't a cornerstone doctrine to me, so I've never really examined it. If we believe in predestination, then there is no true free choice. What were the two trees in the garden? Why would God put them there if He already knew the outcome? Now the issue of predestination is one that could easily be argued from both sides. I always thought I agreed with it, but that was until I realised the following.
If we believe in predestination, then what is the role of prayer? I *think* it was CS Lewis who said "Prayer doesn't change God. It changes me." So perhaps he was a predestinationalist. I read that quote and I sort of agree with him. But then what of the whole, NAR (New Apostolic Reformation) and Faith Movement's emphasis on spiritual warfare? If we believe that prayer changes things, then we mustn't truly believe in predestination. One has us thinking that the role of prayer is to change us. The other has us thinking that the role of prayer is to change God. If the latter, then what of the immutability of God (that is that He cannot change?)
If God can re-write the future, what are the consequences of free will? Open Theism emphasises the love of God above all. It holds that He is very moved by creation and is moved in various ways. Then couldn't we do anything with our free will and then simply turn around and say "Yep. Sorry. Good to go with your best plan now." The modern church, or at least the branch of it that I've been exposed to the most, talks a lot about destiny. "Destiny" seems to imply predestination. Predestination clashes with Open Theism in that Open Theism offers up multiple possible trajectories that ones life can take, thus burning the predestination theme to the ground.
This is one of those rare posts where I'm putting out more questions than answers. I'm not sure where I come down on this whole Open Theism thing. I posted it because, well, I haven't posted for a while and its what I'm thinking about today. Those three points at the end will be things I'm thinking on.
If we put every doctrine that sounds appealing into our proverbial back-pack of beliefs, then we can end up with an inconsistent faith. Perhaps it takes a lifetime and beyond to fully understand God, and perhaps there are no right answers to these things. But perhaps its a good thing to think about. If we are about predestination, then we need to surrender to the will of God and just coast through life taking it all as it comes. I guess there's a peace in that. If we aren't, then we need to delve further into the why and how of prayer, and understand there's a certain responsibility in how we pray.
Anyway! Thats my brain dump for today. Hope ya'll have a fabulous weekend.
Cheers
Kit K.
Church Reformation - The Billy Graham Edition
Its 2018. The year still feels young, even though we have just ticked across into May. This post has taken me a lot longer than I thought it would, but I wanted to write it anyway. Because its been burning in my mind since Billy Graham passed away a few months ago.
I've heard many a preacher stand on the podium and talk about the need for church reformation. It surely is an easy case to argue. I, myself, am not sure that God would look happily on every aspect of His bride at present. I'll spare you the examples. We know that churches are made up of imperfect people. How could we expect perfection of ourselves?
There is one thing I'm sure of though, and that is that the type of reformation the church needs isn't the kind that points at the splinter in a brothers eye without dealing with the plank in ones own. That's why when a giant of the faith passes on some information about what he would do different, it's wise to listen.
In the early moments of this year, one such giant died. Billy Graham left this world bound for the eternal plain and with that, the world got talking. The criticism was as loud as the praise. (So much for not speaking ill of the dead!) Thousands if not millions paid tribute to him as if he was a saint, while members of the LGBTI community detailed their hurt over the harsh words he had directed at them and others railed against his brushes with the law when it came to tax evasion.
Thousands upon thousands spoke of the impact his life had on theirs. It was one heck of a mixed bag. I don't think even Micheal Jackson had so many negative articles written about him when he died - a fact that seems more than a little unjust. I'm grateful for the good stuff, while I also acknowledge the not-so-shiny. My own parents were converted at a crusade they attended on their honeymoon. Mine is a life that has been touched by Billy Graham's shadow, as it were.
I'm absolutely sure the guy was imperfect, and had his not so great aspects. But I'm also sure that the way to reform the church isn't by nitpicking giants like this.
It's by learning from them.
I struggled to find an article in which he reflected on his life and talked about what he would do differently. When I did, I realised why it was so hard to find. It's an area the church in the western world seems to be wading further and further into, and I wonder if it's because of the seductive promise of power and influence. What was the one thing big Billy Graham said he'd stay out of if he had his time again?
It's the area of politics.
In an interview with Christianity Today in 2011, he said: "“I also would have steered clear of politics. I’m grateful for the opportunities God gave me to minister to people in high places; people in power have spiritual and personal needs like everyone else, and often they have no one to talk to. But looking back I know I sometimes crossed the line, and I wouldn’t do that now.”
Graham had in fact been tied up with President Richard Nixon, and his is a legacy that thinned the dividing line between church and state by what some call 'a relentless pursuit of civil religion.'
It's a cautionary note in Billy's story, but it wasn't explained. The interviewer carried right on through to the next question. I couldn't help but dwell on that statement though. Why would he steer clear of politics? What's wrong with that?
I can't pretend to know what Billy was thinking. But I do know this: the church has always been counter-cultural. It gives me great unease when it seeks to be otherwise. Jesus wasn't a populist leader. Quite the contrary. It was him and twelve guys. The movement started from there but it didn't seek power and influence. It served. It served the orphans and the poor. It served the widows. It served those shunned by society. Of course it reached those in high places but that wasn't the emphasis.
The church in the book of Acts was as small number in a big world. My fear is that, in the modern era, the church fears losing its relevance, and thus it seeks out power. But there's a saying that contends "Power is not innocent" and there's the problem.
After thinking about this for months, and letting it challenge my own standpoint, this is the opinion I've come to: The church, and the men and women of God who lead it, should maintain innocence and righteousness, should be a voice for good, and should avoid blurring the line between the State and the sacred.
I could list pages and pages of ministers who have gone off the rails when handed too much power and influence. Its a seductive thing. It allows human leaders to confuse their own ideas with the voice of God, to start believing their own hype, to turn a blind eye to abuses and injustices while saying to themselves "the end justifies the means." It isn't like this because people are bad, but because of the effect of power, and of the people who revolve around those in power, and potentially the way it's easy to ignore counsel when there is no one you answer to. (Hmmm. Big can of worms there! Shutting the lid on that for today!)
When we look at the life of Jesus, we see His approach to power summed up nicely in Philippians 2:5-11. Jesus brought himself low, to the point of death, even death on the cross. He was the ultimate servant, who God then elevated. But that elevation was God's responsibility, not ever that of a human. Politics causes us to seek out the popular vote. It seeks for man to elevate us, whereas a life of service to the church is a calling to servanthood in its purest form.
The church should be a powerful voice for good. But I believe it is best kept separate from the State. Having the two institutions separate creates a healthy tension, in my opinion, and creates potential for the other to stay on track.
There is an example of the church and state becoming completely intertwined. (Okay, theres a few. Henry VIII is one. So is the Vatican. Both of those carry obvious cautionary tales.) I'm referring to Constantine. Many laud his achievements for the advancement of Christianity, but others point out the ways in which he married a pagan state with a Christian God and emerged with a mixed, state-sanctioned faith.
This is our danger.
I'm absolutely not saying Christians don't belong in politics. In a representative democracy, there should be room for all creeds. But I am suggesting that if you are called to the cloth, you mightn't be called to the crown. If you find yourself edging towards the other, do consider the words of Billy Graham and ask yourself if you are crossing a line that shouldn't be crossed.
My considered opinion is that the church should put pressure on government to maintain fairness to all people, and freedom to all religions, whilst the government should ensure that citizens involved in churches don't find themselves at the mercy of organisations who think they are above the law. Jesus said "render unto Caesar what is Caesars." This protects the vulnerable people who often seek out the church to find healing. There, they should find safe harbour, not political agendas.
Being a pastor or minister (the Christian type) is a sacred role. It's there to serve and love God's people, teaching them and discipling them according to the word of God. Its role is not to rule them. Each believer's walk with God is their own responsibility. When the state tells us how we ought live that out, we have problems. If you can't imagine that, go watch the Handmaids Tale. (Yes, I know dominionists will cite Genesis 1:28 when God tells Adam to have dominion - but He was referring to fish, animals, plants and insects. Not people.)
The power and pull of politics might be seductive, but it is a different calling entirely. It is to represent the will of the people, not the Will and word of God.
My fear, yes I use the word fear again, is that many a person who has sought out influence and power has done so because they fear their own vulnerability. But for pastors and ministers, and indeed for Christians, our God is our sword and shield. So what if we stay countercultural and never overpower the culture of the day? That is probably our place - to show a dark world there is a light they can follow.
I'm aware that this post may come across a bit abrasive to some. That is not my intent. It is simply to call our attention to Billy Graham's one regret, and to urge Christians not to fear where the world will go but to have faith in a God that has all the power we will ever need. If you are a Christian in politics, great! Serve with honour and integrity. Be a person of your word. Represent your people. Find good counsel and heed it.
If you are a pastor thinking of crossing over, if urge you to consider the undue influence you may wield over people who may think your word and the word of God never differ. It's a dangerous line to blur.
Just some thoughts! Have a fab weekend, friends.
Kit K
Why I don’t seek certainty anymore
For me, faith was always about certainty. Certainty that the world worked a certain way. Certainty that God would always come through for you (if you prayed hard enough, worked hard enough, didn't sin, fasted if the situation warranted it, and were generally the good girl). If you were a good evangelical, you would reach other people for Christ, and this often came through a formulaic approach based on the godlessness and hopelessness of all humankind, and the goodness and all-powerfulness of God.
Cool. Except for the fact that I prayed hard enough, worked hard enough, behaved well enough, fasted if the situation warranted it and was generally a good girl. A really good girl. If you knew my story, you'd probably know that I've had more things go wrong in my life than many. I firmly believe that there should be a cosmic quota for heartache and misfortune, and I've passed it. Waaayyy passed it. So why am I the happiest I've ever been?
I think its because I've shifted from certainty to uncertainty. And it's beautiful. Do I know all about God? Nope. Not even close. Am I always seeking to understand God, and connect with the divine? Yep. Do I seek to live out my followership of Christ in the truest, most compassionate, most dedicated way I can? Yep. Does this bring me certainty about the world? Heck no.
Am I okay with that? Absolutely.
You see certainty, for me, brought about a deep sense of unease. If I was so certain that my doctrines were correct, and that everyone else was wrong and needed to convert to the movement I was in in order to be right, then I needed to wrestle with what I saw around me. My perfect God was missing a lot. He was not intervening in a lot of situations despite the endless prayers and supplications of His devout followers. He was turning a blind eye to abuse, a lot. He was making life really hard for the people who followed Him. If I was so certain that this version of God was the right version of God, and this version of philosophy and spirituality was the right version of it, then I had to earnestly want all my friends and family to convert to this extremely difficult way of being in the world.
I...didn't. Couldn't. And a new way of interacting with God began.
Let's be fair: it began with a bit of a shitshow. I catapulted past that cosmic quota on hardship (that doesn't exist). And the final straw came when my marriage transitioned. I say transitioned because it became a friendship that just works. To say it ended would elude to me losing my best friend and confidante. I didn't. He's gay though, and that is a bit of a pivot. So we separated.
In that moment, the vows that I had relied upon were broken. I stared in the face of potential abandonment once again, and guess what: it didn't happen. He stuck by me the best way two separated people could. We share a house, and co-parenting duties. Our relationship has changed, but he did not run for the hills. My friends gathered around me, and I realised for the first time in my life that I didn't want friends who rejected him or whose interactions with me were based on conditional love or the perception of me being weak and hurt. Because although he was my ex-husband, he wasn't the man who wronged me. He loved me enough to give me a chance to find love again while I was young. He loved me enough to plunge us both into uncertainty, knowing that it would force us both to live authentically.
Yes, he needed to live authentically for obvious reasons. But he knew something about me too: I'd been making myself smaller in order to stay in his shadow, like a good, submitted, complementarian wife. He wasn't going to let me do it for the rest of my life. So here we are: two single people parenting two presidents-schoolers, and about to take on the world of dating and its uncertain as heck.
In that moment, when we first separated, I went "huh. Can't control a bloody thing, can you? Best just roll with it."
Then Covid19 hit. And I thought "huh. Can't control a bloody thing, can you? Best just roll with it."
And then we moved to a whole new neighbourhood, in a whole new city, and we aren't giving out our address for the first time in our lives. We waited until after the Melbourne lockdown was over to make the move, knowing making friends in Covid19 is difficult, but then the second lockdown started 48 hours before we arrived. And I thought, you guessed it, "Huh. Can't control a bloody thing, can you? Best just roll with it."
I mean I could have tried to control everything, to line it up with my "certain", "non-negotiable" or "tried and true" ideas about the world. But that would have been fruitless, wouldn't it. It would have taken up a crazy amount of energy, reduced me to frustration, and perhaps given me another walk with the black dog.
Here's the problem I see with seeking certainty: it's very hard to distinguish between certainty and control. In fact, sometimes when we say "certainty" what we mean is "control - fitting everything into a box I can understand and compartmentalise, keeping people and ideas where I want them so I can feel safe." And control, frankly, is a myth. You can't wrap the world up in a neat little bow, claiming you understand all of its in's and out's, its workings, timings and cosmic rhythms.
You can't make people do what you want them to do and have that relationship be one in which both parties are healthy. For one person to have control over anothers actions takes away from the personhood of the second party. It costs part of their individuality, and agency over their choices in order for them to fall in line with what the person-in-control wants them to be.
And it's a lot of work to maintain that inauthenticity, or that control. It breeds distrust, dissatisfaction, and all the disses.
So I'm embracing uncertainty. I know I do not understand God and the universe. It makes seeking those answers fun and fascinating. I know I can't control anything, so I connect with my own integrity and what I deeply feel to be true in any given moment and do the best I can. I embrace the idea that I may be wrong, and that's okay. When I'm faced with curveballs, I'm learning to go "Okay. Can I control this? No. So how do I respond best? How do I act in this moment that allows me to still be in my integrity, in my boundaries, and in line with what I feel to be my purpose?"
I like it. I like it better than certainty. A God I don't understand is so much easier to seek after than one I think I've got locked down. A person I can't control is so much more freeing to be around because they can be their authentic selves and I can be my authentic self. The energy once spent on good behaviour and fitting in is so much better spent elsewhere, don't you think?
Anyway, that's my thoughts for today. They may be influenced a little bit by Keith Kristich's session on the podcast...but I have to wait until next week to post that. Stay tuned.
I'm currently listening to the sound of children playing, looking out over a city skyline on a sunny winters day. All is not how I thought it would be. But its pretty darn great. And I am happy. And this is a moment worth marking.
I hope you are well in this crazy time.
xo
Kit