Grace for Dirty Dishes (and other daunting obstacles)

When I was newly married, one of the biggest obstacles in my household was dirty dishes. I simply couldn't stay on top of the ever-accumulating pile in our tiny kitchen. No sooner would I triumph over one stack than the sink would fill up tauntingly, and I'd be faced with hours of washing once again. Filled with resentment and a mounting sense of defeat, I would procrastinate to the point that there was barely space in the kitchen to scrub effectively, much less cook meals. Things grew ugly. At some point, I virtually surrendered to the dirty dishes.

It sounds so ridiculous now. But it's hard to overstate how defeated I felt. Somehow, the dirty dishes were a metaphor for all my failures as a wife, my aimless non-student status, the ugly sin in my heart, everything. All of it coiled tightly in my chest and spilled out in tears whenever I summoned the nerve to tackle the dishes. I remember standing in the kitchen thinking about what our pastor had preached on Sunday. I knew that my domestic failures said nothing about my identity in Christ. The thought that my existence was defined more by my disastrous kitchen than by the beauty of Christ was an insidious lie. I agreed with that. It just didn't change what I saw before me -- or my sense of utter powerlessness in the face of it. Considering that I allowed a simple household task to become freighted with so much, it's little wonder that I gave up.

Nowadays, I can praise the Lord that He's brought me to the other side of much of that. It's taken the better part of four years, a relocation, consistent effort toward fresh starts in habit and attitude, and the aid of a beautiful dishwasher (!). What it hasn't been is automatic. In wrestling with the meaning of grace for my life, I've wondered if I've operated under wrong assumptions about how grace changes things.

For example, as I discussed with my husband recently, grace is not some sort of "positive-thinking alchemy" that instantaneously transforms my circumstances. Sometimes it does work in plainly miraculous ways. Other times, I've looked at apparently unchanged circumstances as evidence that I'm just not believing hard enough, or that I haven't sufficiently humbled my heart to "get it." Even if that were true, it's missing the point. It risks twisting grace into another form of works-righteousness, something that I muster up on my own behalf. Such "grace" would be no grace at all.

For another, grace is too big for my heart to receive all at once.
The truth about my soul's union with Christ may take awhile, may take a long time, to work itself out in forms that I can confidently perceive and put words to. There's much walking by faith, not by sight, and waiting on the Lord to work as He has promised to do. This can be painful and pretty messy in the in-between. That doesn't make His grace a bit less objectively real.

I can say that, even though I no longer struggle in the same way with chores like washing dishes, dirty dishes scenarios linger in my life. So how to confront them? I'm still struggling. One thing the Lord has been teaching me is that it's hard to let others be party to those scenarios, but that sometimes He calls us to do this, and with excellent reason. Not that we need to be transparent about them to whomever will listen. That's not necessarily God-glorifying or helpful. Yet opening up about the shameful things, to trusted brothers and sisters, can be a thing the Lord uses to make His grace powerfully seen and felt in daily life. Insurmountable situations begin to look survivable, and burdens more bearable, in the fresh light of such grace.

You'll likely find that you are loved and prayed for more than you'd guessed, and that you'll be received with more grace than you'd dared hope for. That's all Jesus. He knows the depth and cost of our sin better than we do, and He has already obtained an undiminishing supply of the grace we need. I'm preaching to myself here: we can trust Him to give it to us in the time and through the means He knows to be best for us, and for His glory.

Book Review: Delighting in the Trinity: Why Father, Son and Spirit Are Good News by Tim Chester

One of the most influential courses in my M.Div. program (and not just because I sat next to my now husband!) was a seminar titled Patristic Trinitarian Doctrine. Whenever I happened to mention the name of this class to a non-academic, or even to some seminarians, I often got a laughing response -- something like, "Better you than me," or "What's the point of that?" I remember feeling dismayed that just because it had a lot of syllables (or maybe included the word "doctrine"?), people assumed the subject matter was difficult, obscure, or not "useful."

Nowadays, I think there was likely self-righteousness in my response. No doubt I thought I would get my degree and promptly begin authoring books that set everyone straight about the importance of the Trinity! I have a better appreciation now for just what a difficult task that truly is. What's more, I was far from the first to notice a need for such books -- and there have been an increasing number of them, from the capable minds of teachers like Fred Sanders (The Deep Things of God), and now from U.K. pastor and church planter Tim Chester.

Delighting in the Trinity is Tim Chester's attempt to answer the question, "How is the doctrine of the Trinity good news?" The book emerged from Chester's conversations about the Christian faith with two Muslim friends. Their questions prompted him to consider how, rather than being a source of panic and embarrassment, queries about this doctrine should instead provide "a lovely opportunity to share the heart of our faith" (9). I appreciated this missional framing for the book.

This book is divided into three parts: "Biblical Foundations," "Historical Developments," and "Practical Implications." Part One outlines the scriptural basis for Trinitarian belief, paying closest attention to the events of Calvary. Especially helpful here are the common mistakes Chester identifies about what happened at the cross: that an unwilling Father was placated by the Son, and that an unwilling Son was victimized by the Father. He convincingly shows that we must make sense of the Cross in light of the Trinity: "The cross alone reveals the radical, gracious freedom of God...Only God is so gracious that He freely chooses to be God-forsaken to reconcile Himself with those who have rejected Him. Nothing demonstrates the 'godness' of God so much as the godlessness of the cross" (79).

As a doctoral student, I was most interested in Part Two. Chester devotes considerable space to summarizing how the doctrine of the Trinity was articulated in light of the biblical material and the concerns of the early church, tracing developments in Trinitarian theology through the medieval and early modern periods to the present day. He provides a quick, but by no means cursory, survey of the thought of Tertullian, Origen, Athanasius, the Cappadocian Fathers, Augustine, Aquinas, Anselm, Calvin, and more recent theologians. I even learned some tidbits I'd been unaware of, such as that the sixteenth-century Anabaptist, Menno Simons, authored a work on the Trinity in which he tried to prove the doctrine through exegesis alone, without reference to earlier controversies and creedal formulations. While advanced students will find these chapters unavoidably simplified at points (such as that the Eastern patristic tradition focused on the threeness of God, the Western tradition on the unity of God), I appreciated that Chester devotes as much space as he does to historical theology. While many writers for laypeople might be tempted to minimize such details, Chester takes pains to show what was at stake for the church in earlier ages. The interested lay reader will find plenty of footnotes to encourage deeper reading of primary sources.

Language about the "practicality" of doctrine always makes me a little nervous, but Part Three of Chester's book might better be titled "The Trinity: a matter of life and death" (137). The survey of various "theories" of the atonement is quite good; my biggest takeaway from this section is Chester's strong argument that substitutionary atonement is "the truly trinitarian view" because only in this view is the atonement "a transaction between God and God...an event within God" rather than something transacted between God and the devil ("dramatic" view) or between God and humanity ("exemplary") view. "Salvation starts with God, is achieved by God and is applied by God." (149) Later, he argues, "Once you abandon a trinitarian understanding of Christ, it is difficult to make sense of the cross except as an ideal to which we should aspire or an example of the transforming power of self-giving love." (152)

The book closes as it began, with further pastoral, missional, and apologetic applications of Trinitarian doctrine. I noticed some points that could have benefited from further elaboration; for example, Chester appears to favor a Free Church ecclesiology (168) but doesn't spend much time defending his claim that this view accords with robust Trinitarianism. I also would have liked to see an even more frequent and explicit emphasis on union with Christ. For example, I would have enjoyed hearing more about worship as participation in the Trinitarian life (13).

On the whole, though, I very much appreciate Delighting in the Trinity and would certainly recommend it to any Christian who wants to better understand the roots and critical importance of this doctrine. I am thrilled that books like this one are being written, and I hope to see Chester (and others) continue the trend of accessible theological writing.

The publisher provided me with a review copy of this book, and I was under no obligation to give a favorable review.

Cross Focused Reviews Blog Tour

Fighting against Providence

To my limited sight, sometimes providence doesn't look so wonderful.

For instance, this summer, I've really been struggling to work on my dissertation. There are several reasons for that, and not all of them are bad, much less sinful. But I've come to realize that one of the reasons is that I've been angry at God.

Earlier in the summer, I had told myself, piously, that I don't really get angry at God, that it just isn't a thing I struggle with. But I'm no longer so sure. At least, in my case, it seems to take the form of a sullen, distracted, foot-dragging resentment that covets what others have instead of praising the Lord for what I've been given.

See, I've been feeling restless in the seemingly endless student phase of my life and coveting the season of life that many of my friends and peers are in--growing families and putting down roots and just, well, living real, grown-up looking lives. Sometimes it truly feels like we're never going to arrive there. While it might not be wrong to long for those things, at times I've allowed the longing to spill over into discontentment and ingratitude.

I know that plenty of people would love to be in the position I am in, of getting to study theology and history full-time, and working towards producing something publishable in the field. Honestly, right now my response to that is, "I promise, this is not as fun as it looks." But I've felt convicted of the need to repent of an entitled, thankless attitude. It's failing to recognize the privilege of advanced study and the goodness of the decade's journey that's led here. What's more, it's God's loving provision for me, and it's wrong for me to grumble about it. He has a purpose for it. Thankfully, it's not my job to discern that purpose right now!

I don't doubt that God could shake things up in such a way that academia doesn't end up being my primary focus in future years; but for right now, it's what's right in front of me, and every indication I have is that it's what He intends for me to pour my heart and soul into indefinitely. So my prayer is that I can get to a place where I am pursuing it joyfully once again. Including on the days when it's unpleasant, "just a job," and when the temptation is to fixate on other things.

There's part of me that's still crying angrily, "This is a crummy provision! This isn't what I want to be devoting these years to anymore. Can't you just give me what I want right now? Maybe give me an easy out?" But the Lord has shown me again and again that He knows far better than I do what I need, and how He wants to be glorified in my life. And it's for me to trust Him and learn (over and over again, however painfully) to be satisfied in Him above all else. Please pray for me as I struggle to believe and to show forth in my life that His providence is indeed wonderful.

Seminary and Spiritual Growth

This week a particular blog exchange caught my attention. First, one of my favorite church historians, Dr. Carl Trueman, wrote this post in which he remarks that the primary job of seminaries is to impart the skills needed for future ministry, but that seminaries "cannot really engage in spiritual formation in any deep way"; such formation takes place in the context of the church, where the Word is preached and the sacraments administered, just as it does for every other Christian.

Later, another respected church historian, Dr. Michael Haykin, responded with his own blog post in which he agrees with Trueman that the seminary is not the church, but argues that Trueman downplays the formative role of preaching, friendship, and faculty mentorship in seminarian formation. Trueman comes back with an interesting and appreciative response here.

This has been a fun exchange for me to read because it's a question I have considered before myself--exactly a year ago, wouldn't you know!

You might recall that one of my disappointments about my own seminary experience was that, as I wrote before, "there is little shared sense of how, or for what end, students are to 'formed,' or shaped, for service." Of course, it was a different issue for me than for the kinds of seminarians with whom Trueman and Haykin are mainly concerned, in that I wasn't attending seminary with the goal of ordained ministry. Plus, my situation was a little unique in that I was of a different theological stripe than most of my classmates (something I hadn't quite expected coming in), and it had been some years since I had been really immersed in the life of a local church. For both those reasons, I leaned on my church much more heavily than the seminary in order to grow in my faith--I needed a refuge, and I needed to learn how to be in the church in the first place! It was only in church that I learned to submit to the teachings of Scripture, to come to the Lord's Table, and to walk with brothers and sisters in Christ. The same kinds of accountability, kinship, and grace were not at work in the seminary classroom, generally speaking.

With that in mind, I incline toward Dr. Trueman's perspective on this. The question he poses--"what does the church do that the seminary cannot?"--is vital and needs to be considered in light of the historical development of seminaries and their relationship to the church. Still, I'm intrigued by some of Dr. Haykin's comments, particularly on Christian friendship as a means of grace! It's always exciting to follow a rigorous and respectful exchange between world-class historians, and I hope to see further discussion of this important subject from them and others.

Four Years

I wasn't looking to get married when I was 25. It was barely on my radar screen, to be perfectly honest. My attentions were elsewhere, but as usual, the Lord knew better than I did. I'm still amazed how He brought us together and where He's led us since.

I'm so thankful to have gotten to spend the past four years with my best friend, and to know that, Lord willing, we'll only become better friends as the years go on. It's a humbling thing to be loved so graciously--to hear it and see it demonstrated every day. I have much to learn about being a good helpmeet to him. But I'm really looking forward to it!

Happy anniversary, babe!

the state of the dissertation

About a month ago, I hit a bump in the road regarding my dissertation topic. The bump came in the form of my likely adviser suggesting that my proposed topic was not focused enough and/or had probably been sufficiently researched already. So, whereas I had begun the summer fairly certain of being on a steady track, I have been progressing more in fits and starts since then, at times just spinning my wheels. I have some general ideas, in the same neighborhood as the original (preaching in the early church), but I haven't yet determined their viability or been able to commit to a single one. I've effectively backtracked to a point I should have passed several months ago, and I can't say that's not demoralizing.

Of course, no matter the scale of the project, figuring out what my ideas are, what it is that I want to say, has always been the most agonizing part. I am okay at researching and love actually writing, but getting to the point where I can write is often an anxious process. So it doesn't come as a great surprise that I am sitting in the idea phase and feeling stuck. The same thing happened with my undergraduate thesis and with virtually every paper I have written since professors gave me the freedom to choose my own topics. In the end, most of that has turned out pretty well for me. Still, it's not the most fun place to be sitting. And it could become problematic if I don't get un-stuck within a week or two.

I know it isn't helped by the fact that I've been asking questions about my sense of my vocation, which is probably a healthy thing to do, but might be getting mixed up and conflated with the topic-search in unhelpful ways. I mean, it just doesn't work very well trying to discern a dissertation topic while discerning whether I see myself thriving in academia in the longer term. So I'm trying to lay the latter piece aside, for now, and focus on the task that's given to me right now. (And don't worry. I'm not thinking of dropping this program. That isn't even on the table.)

Geekery & Godliness: Some Preliminary Thoughts

The ideas in this post are a work in progress. For almost a year now, questions about the intersection between academic theological study and growth in godliness have been at the back of my mind. (Probably for longer than that, to be honest.) Even though I suspect that these questions are best worked out in a longer writing project, I felt compelled to start getting them on paper, if in abbreviated form.

The topic is definitely in need of refinement. You'll note that the post is titled "Geekery & Godliness," because when I first jotted down the idea for this post, I was thinking in terms of a more catch-all category of "theology geeks," including those who are self-identified nerds about theology, but are not necessarily engaged in formal study of the subject. As I began writing, though, I noticed that my concrete ideas were closely connected to the life of the theology graduate student -- unsurprisingly, as that's the life I know. It's possible that much of this can apply to non-academic geeks as well as grad students, but I am not sure yet.

Also, the cautions I give below arise from my own experience. They are all areas in which I have felt personally convicted. I'm quite certain, however, that not all academics have experienced these precise things, and I would love to hear those other perspectives. And, if there is anything here you'd like to see me expand upon in future posts, please let me know. Like I said, I'm kind of testing the waters to see if this is sustainable as a longer-term project -- something that can be of help to others.

It should go without saying that I think the academic pursuit of theology and/or "theology geekery" is a glorious thing. It is a blessing to have so many wonderful resources at my disposal, as well as a context in which to develop my ideas. But I have become increasingly convicted that geeking out over my Puritan Paperbacks or Popular Patristics collections, or doing theological research as my job, are not, in themselves, signs of a healthy spiritual life.

A Couple Obvious Gifts of Theological Study

• Theological study should lead us to praise God continually, to desire to pursue Him ever more deeply, and to love the church, Christ's Bride, more and more. It is a sweet privilege to have the opportunity to devote ourselves to an intensive study of these subjects. We should rejoice in that.
• Theological study should compel us to serve the church with what we've learned, in any variety of ways. It is rightly undertaken with the aim of being at the church's disposal.

Some Cautions

• Theology geekery is not automatically spiritually beneficial. Just because I am often surrounded by the works of the early church fathers or the Puritans does not mean I am actively seeking the Lord, but it is easy to allow my studies to become a proxy for prayer and time spent in Scripture. There have been seasons when, because I was studying sacred things, I lulled myself into believing I could allow my prayer life to slide. Proximity to godliness is not the same as practicing it.
• Studying theology for a living is not spiritually superior to any other employment or vocation.
• A theology student should be firmly anchored in the local church and submitted to its leadership. Listening to lectures and engaging in seminar discussions during the week is not the same as sitting under the preaching of the Word. The latter is one of the ordinary means of grace; the former (mercifully) are not. And while you should certainly bring your God-given intellect to bear on what you are taught in church, that is not an invitation to spend the bulk of the sermon critiquing the pastor's exegesis and thinking how you could do it better.
• A theology student should regularly soak in the basics of the faith, above all in God's Word. Chances are, a graduate theological education (or, sadly, in my experience, a seminary education) is not going to teach you how to do this, which points again to the importance of being under the shepherding of godly leaders. Don't be too proud to ask elders or mature believers for counsel in this area. (If you have time, take a moment to read the Martin Luther quote in this blog post by Carl Trueman. I believe it's getting at the same idea.) It's important to do this, not in spite of the intricacy of your dissertation topic, but because of it. You probably understand less than you think you do.
• Take time to be in relationship with non-academics and those who aren't consumed by the student season of life. You need them; and fellowship with your brothers and sisters will far outlast your successes and failures in academia, and will prove far sweeter besides.

I believe it is possible to cultivate a life of both God-glorifying scholarship and vibrant, mature faith. My concern is that theological study, as it is often practiced today, does not always lend itself to ready integration of these areas; at any rate, it sometimes leaves students adrift and scrambling to pick up the pieces. I'm not attempting to lay down guidelines for how to do that, as I am very much caught in the midst of it myself. However, I hope this could be a place to start a conversation.