Demythologization: A big word that makes God small
Say that three times fast.
Demythologization: This was the word that stuck with me from Easter Sunday. Yes, of course, resurrection did as well, but demythologization so accurately identified what I’d been struggling to formulate in my mind and articulate to others.
So, what is it?
Demythologization is the process of reinterpreting portions of Scripture that are considered, by some, mythical. That is, taking the true stories of Scripture and deeming them implausible because, well, they’re supernatural. I mean, parting the Red Sea? Um…. that doesn’t happen. A worldwide flood? Let’s get real. Walking on water? Certainly not. So, in order to make the Bible more palatable (and believable!) we reinterpret those portions to find the moral, the “deeper” meaning, the more spiritual meaning.
We turn a proclamation into a philosophy. A life-giving revelation into a life-advice suggestion. Because really, we’re much too sophisticated to believe in children’s tales like a man swallowed by a fish or a little girl rising from the dead.
Come on, get real.
Now, while this might seem like the last thing you or I would do, I realized that this is exactly what I do, in subtle ways, all the time.
I’ve mentioned before, I’m reading through the Scriptures for the umpteenth this year, but it’s like having brand new eyes. I keep saying to Jeff while I’m reading my Bible, “Have you read this thing?! This is CRAZY! There’s crazy stuff in here.”
The whole Bible is ridiculously unbelievable. That is, unless you believe. [bctt tweet=”The whole Bible is ridiculously unbelievable. That is, unless you believe. “]
I thought I believed. And I did. A little bit. But of course the Christian life is a long journey of becoming a believer.
I just hadn’t realized how much of the Bible I was consistently glossing over, or subconsciously reinterpreting in order to make it more plausible. Especially in my teaching. I know I’m not *ahem* alone in this. 🙂 This happens in sermons all the time.
The classic example: We read the story of Jesus calming the storm, commanding the wind and waves to obey and be still. And we take that to mean that Jesus can calm the storms in our hearts.
Um… Yes, He can. But this also means Jesus does miracles! He can command the weather! Jesus is Lord over creation! He can stop storms, He can work wonders, He can say a word and completely alter the course of our lives and the forces of nature. And He commands us to not fear. There is nothing impossible for Him. This God-man calms storms and walks on water and turns water to wine and feeds 5,000 and heals the sick and raises the dead.
Crazy stuff. See what I mean?
If Jesus just raised a little girl from the dead I don’t want to interpret that to mean that God can resurrect my mood when I feel sad. Of course He can, but there are plenty of other passages of Scripture to show me that. When He raises the dead it means He raises the dead. It means He has the power to forgive sin and give life and overcome all the forces of evil at work in this world.
See what I mean?
Demythologization centers all of scripture on self and sees only what is humanly possible, shrinking down the Holy God of all creation to just another self-help philosophy on the shelf at Barnes & Noble.
Let’s not do that. Let’s commit afresh to a childlike faith, believing God is who He says He is and does what He says He does.
No matter how unbelievable it may be, let’s believe.
Let’s become small in our own eyes so that God may be big once again.
Thanks for reading.
When you feel like you live on a treadmill…
Exhausted, I stare down into the sink. It’s clogged. Has been for several weeks. When it does slowly drain it leaves a dark grimy film, and no matter how many times I scour it, the grime returns every time it’s clogged again.
(Which is daily.)
I stare at the water; it isn’t going anywhere. I look up into the mirror, my face red from exertion, hair soaked with sweat. I just got off the treadmill.
The absurdity of it strikes me: I’m exhausted from running nowhere.
In so many ways.
Tears sting my eyes as my reflection blurs sideways. I had thought about it while running, had thought about how ridiculous it was to run, all alone, for forty minutes and not get anywhere.
Why God?
Why am I getting nowhere?
Everyday I get up. You do too. Everyday we obey God in the mundane details of life behind the scenes. We wipe counters, noses, and bottoms. We believe. We listen, labor, love, often alone. We wash, work, worship. And then we wake up the next morning and do it all again.
Kinda sounds like a treadmill to me.
I poured this out to Him as I ran, one foot in front of the other, scenery never changing. The only thing ahead of me was a wall.
That’s how my days feel sometimes as well.
My exercise is in obedience to God. I’m obeying Him with my body. He clearly called me to this, so I obey. Get up each morning. Get on my knees. Pray. Believe. Spread out His Word. Ask. Seek. Trust. Lace up the shoes. Run the miles. Write the words. Raise the kids.
Repeat.
Sometimes the scenery never changes.
Then why run it?
I ask Him this, these exact words, while pounding out the steps, keeping pace with prayer. His still small voice:
“Because you’re training.”
Tears on the treadmill.
Yes. Of course. He’s training me. He’s training you. These long days where the scenery never changes. These long days of believing Him for things we cannot see. These long days putting one foot in front of the other. These long days with nothing ahead but a wall. These long days alone. When we’re sweating and exhausted and getting nowhere at all … we’re training.
We’re getting stronger. We’re building endurance. We’re learning not to quit.
The scenery may never change, but we’re changing.
That’s why we run on a treadmill. Why we do the duties each day, choosing to delight instead of despise, because we choose to believe He’s changing us as we are faithful in the little things each day. Choosing to believe He will make good on His promises in His time.
Oh sister, I know the Sacred Mundane can be hard. I know it’s not exhilerating to run on a treadmill, alone, staring at a wall and getting nowhere. Doing the duties no one else sees and at the end of the day looking around and wondering, All that work … for what?
For faithfulness.
Because God is watching, sister. Because God is training you for His glory. Building endurance, building character, building faith — growing some choice fruit that can only grow in the shade.
When the scenery never changes, keep running.
When no one’s there to cheer, keep running.
When all that’s ahead is that same bleak wall, keep running.
When it seems you’re getting nowhere, keep running.
Race Day may come and you’ll be ready. Opportunity may knock and you’ll open that door. His answer will come and you will shake your head, smile, and raise our hands in praise. But most importantly, a day will come when you hear the most glorious words,
“Well done … you have been faithful with little things … Enter into My joy.”
Keep running. It’s worth it.
{Revisiting this from 2012. I always need this reminder! Happy Monday, and thanks for reading.}
Focus: It is finished
Friday’s Reading: Matthew 26:47 – 27:51, Mark 14:43 – 15:38, Luke 22:47 – 23:49, John 18:3 – 19:37
It is finished.
We followers of Jesus are well-aware of these oft-repeated Good Friday words (John 19:30). We’ve probably heard the Greek translation — tetelestai — which means, “Paid in full.” I have reveled in this glorious news and celebrated it every Easter season, but do we realize just how GOOD this Good Friday declaration really is? Why is it SO good?
Because Jesus paid it ALL in full.
We know Jesus declared, It is finished. But what exactly did He finish?
In a word, salvation.
Jesus purchased our salvation. He finished our salvation. He accomplished our salvation. Yes, yes, we know that. We bring people to church so they will pray a prayer and “get saved” so they can go to heaven when they die.
That is great! Going to heaven when we die is glorious. But guess what?! The Good News is even more GOOD than that. Can you believe it?!
There’s more.
This one little word, salvation, is so rich.
In the Greek, the word “salvation” is SOZO, and it’s so much bigger than just a ticket to heaven.
- Remember how Jesus physically healed every single person who came to Him? That word for “healed” or “made well” is … SOZO. Salvation! (Luke 8:48 and 50, Acts 14:9)
- Remember how Jesus delivered people from demonic oppression, giving them emotional and mental deliverance from torment? That word is … SOZO. Salvation! (Matt. 4:23-34, Luke 8:36)
- Remember how Jesus brought forgiveness and saved people from sin, giving the gift of eternal life? That word is … SOZO. Salvation! (Matt. 19:25, many more)
God created people as whole people–body, soul, and spirit. The Good News is that Jesus came to rescue our whole person–body, soul, and spirit. There is no distinction in the Greek language between the work Jesus did in granting forgiveness for sin (Spirit), healing for the body (Body), and deliverance from mental torment (Soul).
He paid for IT ALL. He paid for our full salvation.
When we bought our last home, it was built in 1906, and apparently the appliances were only a few years newer. 🙂 Fine. I was so happy to have a home I didn’t care about ancient appliances! But a week after we moved in, the dishwasher completely broke, and we realized that the oven wasn’t fully functional. Although I was still happy to have purchased the home, it was a bummer that it didn’t function to its full capacity. We’d spent our savings on the down-payment, so we didn’t have extra cash to buy new appliances.
I tried to figure out how to make due for the time being, until “someday” far off when we could get new ones.
Then one day, we off-handedly mentioned to our realtor about the appliances. She replied,
“Oh! Did I not tell you? I purchased a home warranty for you. The warranty covers all your appliances–you can get new ones for free!”
What?! I had no idea. I knew we had not purchased a home warranty, but I had no idea she’d done that for us.
We had access to so much more than I ever realized.
Now every time I see my brand new (fully-functioning!) appliances, I think of salvation. How Jesus purchased so much more than I ever realized. Whole-being salvation: Body, soul, spirit. And all of this is available fully and only in Jesus Christ:
And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved. Acts 4:12
Hallelujah! Jesus is Good News indeed!
I’m the first to admit, I don’t know how all this works. It is a process, a relationship with a Good Good Father who teaches us to persevere, die to ourselves, take up our cross, continue in prayer, asking continually and never giving up. All the rest of the Scripture speaks to how this plays out in our experience. But what I hope we can meditate on today is that JESUS PAID IT ALL. It’s already be purchased.
Father, help us to receive all that Your precious Son died to give us.
Good Friday is good indeed!
{Thanks for reading.}
Beware of taking your kids to church 🙂
This week, Passion Week, is one of my favorite times of the year. Easter gives us an opportunity to invite people to church more easily than at other times. As you probably know, many people visit church on Easter even if they don’t usually attend.
That’s great. Sort of.
Several years ago I heard a fabulous sermon on godly parenting and it’s haunted me ever since. The pastor gave an interesting illustration: He made the rather bold point that if we, as parents, are just giving our children a little tiny dose of Jesus we may be doing them more harm than good. We may, in fact, be preventingthem from wholeheartedly trusting and following Christ as adults.
Consider immunizations. When we give someone a flu shot, we’re actually giving them what? A little tiny dose of the flu. Give them just enough and it will keep them from getting the full-blown flu. The natural reaction of the body is able to ward off and render harmless the flu virus.
Is it possible to immunize our children from Jesus?
Studies have often shown that those who are soured most on Christianity are not those people who have had no exposure to church and the Bible, but rather are those who, as children, either have bad experiences in the church or parents who sat in pews on Sunday but showed zero evidence of living out that faith the other six days of the week.
They had a tiny dose and therefore were apparently immune to the full-blown effect of the risen Lord.
Why is this? Because a parent who models a half-hearted or Sunday-morning faith is essentially saying, “I know all about this Jesus guy and He’s not significant enough for me to actually change my life. It’s just not that big of a deal.”
That, friends, is a scary message to give our children.
It’s not just that we haven’t given our children enough religious experience, it’s that we’ve proven by our lives that there are no real-life implications of believing in God. Kids aren’t stupid. They have great noses and can smell BS a mile away.
Why would they want to believe in something that doesn’t matter? So they abandon ship. Of course, they hold this stance only until they have their own children. Then they decide they want their children to “have religion”, so they wind up doing the exact same routine as their parents. No real faith, just going through the motions. And in these motions, another generation is immunized from faith in Christ. Frightening.
Along this same vein, a paragraph from Annie Dillard’s An American Childhood has always haunted me in a similar way. Dillard reminisces her fond memories of summer Presbyterian church camp:
“The adult members of society adverted to the Bible unreasonably often. What arcana! Why did they spread this scandalous document before our eyes? If they had read it, I thought, they would have hid it. They didn’t recognize the vivid danger that we would, through repeated exposure, catch a case of its wild opposition to their world. Instead they bade us study great chunks of it, and think about those chunks, and commit them to memory, and ignore them. By dipping us children in the Bible so often, they hoped, I think, to give our lives a serious tint, and to provide us with quaintly magnificent snatches of prayer to produce as charms while, say, being mugged for our cash or jewels.” (p. 134)
Did you READ that? It’s startling. The women is a literary genius, of course, but she’s also hitting the nail on the head, and the conviction is well-earned. If our lives have not been transformed, utterly and completely transformed by the power of the gospel, then what are we doing teaching it to our children?
The gospel is scandalous; its claims are spectacular, it is “wild opposition to the world”. How tragic it would be if we taught our children to study Christ’s claims, “commit them to memory, and ignore them.” Wow. Is that not what we are doing when we ourselves ignore them? Are we not then merely giving our children’s lives a “serious tint” and giving them “quaintly magnificent snatches of prayer to produce as charms”?
Please, please hear my heart in this: I do hope we all take our children to church this weekend. And every weekend. But more than that I hope and pray that we are convinced of this scandalous, life-changing gospel found within the pages of Scripture: It is the power of salvation to all who believe (Rom. 1:16).
The life and death and resurrection of Jesus Christ changes everything.
May it do just that in us … and our kids.
{Thanks so much for reading.}