A story without the power to compel us against our will is a story not worth telling.
If the story of Jesus as God’s agent to rescue the world cannot compel us to think differently than we would on our own, to act differently than we would if left to our own devices, then it is not a story worth telling, much less claiming as our own.
This is a story that is not told to be claimed as our own so much as it is written to claim us as its own.
For all my concern that this story make sense in our context, for all my concern that we allow change over time, for all my concern that we allow the praxis of the church to develop in ways that are culturally sensitive, for all of these enculturating dynamics that I think are essential, if I do not find myself repeatedly confronted by a Jesus story that is still, at essence, profoundly Other, summoning me to a way of life that I would not have on my own, then I am not telling the Jesus story.
If I “like” everything in this story as I’m telling it, I’m not telling the Jesus story. I’m telling my story as though it were his.
Good post. Possible typo: in the next to last paragraph, should “to a way of life that I would have on my own” be “to a way of life that I would not have chosen on my own”?
Thanks, Justin!
Well said. The story always speaks both a word of promise and judgment. Or in the words of Andrew Walls, there is both an indigenous and a pilgrim principle at the heart of the Gospel. We are both included and embraced, culture and all, and are at the same time called to a transformative eschatological pilgrimage that will leave none of us unchanged as we become our future and truest selves in Christ.
Great stuff! Ok, you’re going to hate this, but is this not the fundamental logic behind consistently pressing a two-natures Christology? To say to “human” in Jesus is to recognize that we are dealing with history, culture, time, drama, etc., and to say “God” in Jesus is to continue to say these things but also to say that the reality we meet in this man brings with it something wholly Other, something that applies a new pressure and compulsion within the realm of history that has not arisen naturally from within it but comes from beyond it; the Word that spoke it into existence speaks anew within it.
Yeah, you’re right. I don’t like that one bit.
If there’s nothing in the story as it unfolds in time that continues to compel us from without ourselves but within this great cosmos, then the story’s not worth all that much, either…
How about something within this great cosmos, but not determined wholly by the conditions within it? In other words, the divinity of Christ names the in-breaking involved in the story. It breaks IN, rather than defining and confining itself to timeless infinity, but nevertheless breaks in from without, wholly without. But, on the other side, I’m totally with you that withoutness as such does not make a worthwhile story – it is the God from without refusing to remain without and coming to bind his own Being to a story that constitutes his identity for us and makes us his people that is the compelling story. I just don’t know if that story can compel without the dimension of wholly withoutness which is secured by incarnation.
Thanks for this post. I think that this point of view finds itself opposed to the anthropocentric defining of God that has become so common in the study of religion over the past few years. If God is other than I want him to be, then it is quite possible that I am not his source.
*past few centuries (not years)
Interesting. I have previously suggested that it might have been possible that God have saved us (through Christ) but is not going to let us in on it till the end (so, Christ lived, died, rose, but no message about it goes out, to anybody, not even one). Obviously, this would cut across the ‘story’ account of the Gospel (my suggestion being, in my mind at least, a ‘test’ of the cogency of the ‘story’ gospel. And lots of other gospels too. Though I wouldn’t want to suggest that the way God has made it known now isn’t great!). My account would still have God working in the world among people, through the Spirit, but in an ‘invisible’ way (this would maybe not be acceptable to Charismatics, but a straight ‘story’ gospel without charisma would not suit them either). So, why would this ‘invisible’ way of working not be as compelling as the ‘story’ gospel? People could still be led by God to be what God wanted them to be (as much as Christians in the present regime are, anyway!) – to come to see and know that there is something wrong with the world and themselves and to, in effect, repent, and try to live differently. Or is it only possible to come to see that people should ‘Love your enemies’, through an explicit reporting of Christ.
“But we discover in the cross of Christ that the economy of God’s kingdom is precisely the opposite: it is a giving up of our own lives in order that others might live. And, paradoxically, we learn that this is the way to life.” (“Jesus have I loved, but Paul”; p55) Wow. What an intriguing story worth telling. Why is it so hard to get across? Lord, continue to have mercy…
I’d enjoy hearing more of your story.
Daniel, I couldn’t agree more concerning the Otherness of God, not simply in terms of “other worldliness” but in terms of His opposing us,(of course for our own good). I guess my question is this–how is someone claimed by a story? Really, truly, seriously? I’m not just trying to be difficult here. I believe I’m asking a reasonable question. Abraham, the father of our faith wasn’t claimed by a story, he was claimed by God Himself. Same for Isaac and Jacob. In the N.T. “chosen” is always in the middle voice. God chooses us for Himself. I understand how the story is a blueprint for God’s way of meeting with us, but isn’t the real meaning of the story just as much that Jesus made a way for our direct contact with the Father? Such contact develops a bond with Him that makes me willing to do what dedication to a story never can. Who’s really willing to die for a story? But for my Father? That’s another story.