Relative Conscience

Last night we watched the premiere of "Community" in it, the main character says, "I discovered at a very early age that if I talk long enough I can make anything right or wrong. So, either I'm god or truth is relative. In either case, booyah."

Another character replies, "Interesting, its just the average person has a much harder time saying 'booyah' to moral relativism."

(You can watch it here at about the 8:40 mark.)

While the scene was simply meant to be clever banter to push the plot forward and give us a small glimpse into the personalities of the characters, it really touches on much more.

We live in a world where millions of people decide right or wrong only by what they can defend or reason or rationalize. If they can explain why what they did was right for them, it was right. If their actions weren't as bad as an alternative, it was right. If they can do it without their conscience getting in the way, it was right. If they can do it and then smooth things over with their conscience, it was right. All of these things focus only on the individual, not those around them or anyone else. What's right for me is right. Is this right?

The other character's response is simply wrong. We live in a world where the average person never considers the implications of moral relativism enough to consider even whether or not it deserves a "booyah". People don't consider what kind of moral system supports their actions or what type of system they should conform their actions to. Instead, they simply act on what feels right for them (see above).

The truth is, our conscience is a flimsy guide, one that can be bent and twisted by our wants and desires. Over time, we can train our conscience to ignore grave evils. We don't even have to do so the training. Our consciences are constantly being trained by the things we see around us, the people we interact with and the experiences we go through. It is our consciences that are relative, not morality.

"My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent." - 1 Cor 4:4

Mud

Love God and Love People. That is what we are called to do.

Sin rails against both of these. The classical definition of sin says that it is the violation of a moral or religious command. If we're trying to love God, it becomes obvious how violating what He's all about would be problematic.

Sin and people is a little bit murkier, muddier and more painful. There are times when we sin against someone - we gossip, we offend, we abuse. These are painful, but for the most part clean-cut and obvious. Both parties know something wrong happened. One person must repent and one must forgive. Hard but simple.

There are other times when sin tears people apart tangentially. Sin isn't just a wrong. It is a stain and a scar that tears deep into the fabric of our being. It doesn't just harm those we've sinned against, it harms us. We find ourselves guilty. Obviously, painfully guilty. We know that we've messed up someone's life and that just sucks. Even if we go through the divine process of finding forgiveness with God and then the painful process of repentance and seeking forgiveness of those we've wronged we're still left with the lingering, debilitating problem of shame.

Shame tells us not that we've done evil, but that we are evil. Not that we have messed up, but that we are messed up. Not that we've done wrong, but that in some way we ourselves are wrong. We don't measure up, we're not perfect, we're not worthy, we're not good enough,

We can fight these feelings, we can work through them and deal with them, but some part of our psyche makes them nearly impossible to eradicate. When we meet new people, when we are in tough situations, when we are stressed and worried those shame statements come creeping in - they speak up and tell us to run, to hide, to retreat, to embellish, to deflect, to lie. There's no way they will accept you. (Not if they knew.) There's no way they'll understand. (Don't bother trying.) You're not good enough. (Not anymore.) I can't tell them the truth. (That's not what they want to hear.)

These thoughts and feelings push people away from us. They cause us to create masks, false identities that we hide behind as we try to get by. They keep us from letting people truly get close, they keep us isolated and alone - vulnerable and weak. We rely on false intimacy and fake relationships to get through the day while the whole time we are scared that someone will find out and everything will come crashing down around us.

That's not a life, it's a collision course with disaster.

Unfortunately the church not only allows it to happen, we foster it. We put up false fronts and pretend to have it all together. We hide our own warts and imperfections, bury our past sins and smooth over our faults. When someone does have the courage to admit a mistake or more likely when someone's mask falls off we rush to "fix" them, to correct the problem to make everything status quo once again - always teetering on the brink wondering which gust of truth will send things crashing down.

What if we all just admitted we've crashed already? What if we were the place where past failure was a badge of honor, a purple heart that shows where we've come from? What if sinners were more welcome in our midst than Pharisees? What if we loved people the way Jesus did? What if we loved like we've been commanded?

That would be loving God by loving People.

Knowing v.

Knowledge is power.

Knowing is half the battle.

Knowledge alone is nothing.

Francis Bacon said the first and the second one is the famous ending of so many GI Joe public service announcements. The last one has been said before, but not nearly as much as the former two.

What good is just knowing? It doesn't make things different. It doesn't improve things. It doesn't fix things. It doesn't matter. Acquiring knowledge is easy. It is fun. Understanding a situation makes it seem like we can handle it, like we can deal with it - it puts us at ease. It changes nothing. It placates. It dulls. Knowledge is the opiate of the masses.

So, what then makes a difference?

Clean Slate

"God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise;

God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.

He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things

- and the things that are not - to nullify the things that are,

so that no one may boast before him."

Lord, help me to be foolish - to forget the wisdom I think I've gathered. I don't want to understand or comprehend things my mind can grasp. I need to rely only on your understanding, only on your wisdom, only on your truth.

Lord, help me to be weak, to relinquish any strength I've acquired through my efforts. My strength is insufficient, it only prevents me from relying wholly on your strength. Take away my own ability to stand, to fight, to run and leave me only with the strength to love as you love.

Lord, make me lowly and despised; set me apart from the things of this world, from what is valued and praised, from the things people expect and appreciate, from what is proper and predicated. Remove me from the good graces of society and take me into your grace.

Lord, end me. Make me not. Take away my life and replace it with yours. Give me a clean slate, a new foundation to build from, to love from to fall on. Change me.

Distinct Fools

What does it mean to be salty? How do you describe something that's salty? It's not hot, it's not spicy, it's not sweet or sour or bitter or bland. Something that is salty is just that salty. There's no other description that really fits. Salty is salty. It is different, unique, it is identifiably different. You never confuse salty with spicy like you may confuse rosemary and oregano. Salt is salt. You can blend it with other seasonings, you can mix it with garlic or vinegar, but it is what it is - it stands out.

So, what is Christianity's problem with this concept? Why aren't we salty? We have we forsaken this commandment? Why don't we stand out? Why do we try to blend in and be like everything else?

By definition we are unique. By definition we don't fit it. By definition we are what we are. Our central hero is an anti-hero, crucified, beaten, humiliated - a stumbling block to the Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but our source of power. Yet we try to fit in (or don't try to stand out.)

We must embrace our unique position. We must be willing to stand out. We must love those the world won't love. We must stand where the world sits. We must act where the world does not and refrain where the world acts. Our saltiness cannot be an activity or a job or a way of life, it must be our identity. It's time for some life change.

Richer

"I always thank God for you because of his grace given you in Christ Jesus. For in him you have been enriched in every way - in all your speaking and in all your knowledge - because our testimony about Christ was confirmed in you." 1 Cor 1:4-6

When we talk about life change we can think about loss. We think about erasure and deletion, that everything must go and something new must completely replace it. Here, Paul talks about life-change in a different way. He says that Jesus doesn't erase or delete who we are, He enriches who we really are - what we know and what we say. There are some things that fall away, but the core of who we are, who we were created to be, remains and is strengthened, bolstered and fortified. We become more than we were and more of what we can be. Our sins are washed away, but they were never what we truly are.

A Different Perspective

I can't help but listen. I'm really trying not to. But, one of the boys they're talking about is name George and it is impossible to ignore.

It seems to be a single dad and the manager of a nanny service. They are discussing the situation Dad is having with his nanny (Anne). She wants more money or less hours so she can get another job. That's not a big deal. $50,000 nannies with 401(k)s and benefits is a different world than the one I know, but still not a big deal.

What is a big deal is the role this nanny plays in Patrick and George's lives. She's the one who knows what homework is due, she's the one who plays tennis with them. She's the one they want to go to the lake for the weekend with. She's the one they have a relationship with. She's the one to whom they offer incentives so she won't leave until Pat and George leave for college.

Dad (and the nanny whisperer) know that it is important to have consistency for their kids (plus, "You have to go through the work of finding a new one. You know this is my third?"), but it is not important enough for them to provide it themselves.

I don't know these people and I am sure that I am making gross assumptions, but where is the love here? What will these kids think about having a paid-for role parent? What is truly important for these kids - providing them with everything they want in life and a house big enough to hold it all or providing them with what they need?