Dire Circumstances and God’s Faithfulness

“Great is Thy faithfulness, oh God, my Father…” So the hymn goes, drawing our attention to the constancy of our God. To be quite transparent, there are days (and more than one in the average week!) where the faithfulness of God feels as distant as the finish feels in the last six miles of a marathon. To sing this song on such days feels disingenuous and even hypocritical.

In my Bible reading I was working through Lamentations. The verse on which this song is based occurs in chapter 3. What surprised me this time through was the utter bleakness that leads up to verses 21-23. Jeremiah is oppressed on every side. Jerusalem is in shambles at the hand of Babylonians and he has come to realize these dire circumstances were just (1:18) and purposed by God (2:8, 17). The imagery, however, is even more disturbing in chapter 3, where the Lord is depicted as personally causing the affliction to Jeremiah (3:10-13). To say that Jeremiah is having a bad day would be a gross understatement.

It is in this desperate and humbled position that Jeremiah calls to mind the faithfulness of God. Finding a connection between Jeremiah’s circumstances and God’s faithfulness is unimaginable, even absurd. But making this connection in this passage and in our lives is essential. In the darkness of challenging circumstances, assurance of God’s enduring faithfulness shines all the more brightly.

F.B. Huey comments on this passage: “The unbroken mood of despair was displaced by a beautiful affirmation of hope in spite of suffering…In the midst of chaos and depression, the poet revealed a deep faith in the trustworthiness of God.” (Jeremiah and Lamentations, NAC, 473). The steadfastness of God’s love for us stands in stark relief to the troublesome canvas of our lives. May God continue to remind us, and may we remind ourselves, of God’s enduring faithfulness.

A Call for Humility in the Debates over Divine and Human Agency

Convictions about interpretations of biblical texts are necessary in a post-modern world that often encourages indecisiveness. However, some convictions need to be tempered with humility in light of ongoing debates between believers who are committed to the authority of the Scripture. One such debate is the nexus between divine and human agency. The Christian church has debated the topic for two millennia. Positions have been catalogued along a continuum from determinism, to compatibilism, to Molinism, to libertarianism. Such debates have spawned theological systems such as Calvinism and Arminianism. Of course, extreme positions such as Open Theism have rightly been rejected by orthodoxy.

What’s not always considered, though, is that these debates concerning divine and human agency predate Christianity. For instance, Cicero, the Roman philosopher and statesman of the 1^st B.C., described such a disputation between ancient philosophers in his work On Fate (e.g. 39). In addition, Josephus, the ancient Jewish apologist who wrote from Flavian Rome in the aftermath of the Jewish war of A.D. 70, describes divergent views on the issue among the mainstream schools of Judaism (i.e. Essenes, Pharisees, Sadducees). His portrayal of the sects ranges from determinism to libertarianism (e.g. Antiquities 13.171-173). In particular, his portrait of the Pharisees ranges from compatibilism (Jewish War 2.162-163; Antiquities 18.13) to mild libertarianism (Antiquities 13.172). If this scenario reflects historical reality, it would shed some light on the likely theology of Saul of Tarsus, who later becomes Paul the Apostle.

I am not arguing that we should not seek to discern the Biblical teaching on divine and human agency. Rather, I am saying that we should enter the debate with a recognition that the tension between divine and human agency has been deliberated for a very long time. Develop interpretive convictions, but do so out of a spirit of humility in the presence of mystery.

Doug Finkbeiner

The True Nature of Christian Mentoring, Part 2

Mentoring as life-sharing, experience-imparting and skill-training has a long history. The third-century bishop Gregory of Neocaesarea wrote an account of his relationship with the church father Origen, who became his mentor. When Gregory came to Palestine, it was for the purpose of having a relationship with Origen. Although he admired Origen’s mind, he wanted more than an information download. He wanted to spend time with the great bishop in order to learn from his life, not just his mind.

This view of mentoring was common in the early centuries. Clement of Alexandria wrote in his book on ethics, The Tutor, “The role of the tutor is to improve the soul, not to educate nor give information, but to train someone in the virtuous life.” Like others who wrote on mentoring, Clement understood the purpose to be “to form the soul in virtue” (Robert Louis Wilken, The Spirit of Early Christian Thought, Yale, 2003, 268).

This is the aspect that many students don’t realize they need just as critically as they need theological training or skills in biblical languages. But the truth is, more men wash out of ministry because of character issues than doctrinal deviation.

Character formation is not always welcomed by young protégés. At first, Gregory resisted Origen’s attempts to change him. Though Origen’s words “struck like an arrow” Gregory was not ready to undergo the discipline imposed by Origen. Gregory was more interested in argument and intellectual debate, but this was not acceptable to Origen. His aim was to “move the soul,” and he challenged his disciples to open their hearts and allow their wills to be molded by the good (p. 269).

Although learning a set of precepts was part of the mentoring training, “what counted for more was the example of the master and the bonds of friendship formed with the disciple…Friendship, said Gregory, ‘is piercing and penetrating, an affable and affectionate disposition displayed in the teacher’s words and his association with us’” (p. 269).

This personal relationship had a profound impact on Gregory. “Through Origen’s friendship with him, Gregory learned to love Christ, the Word, but he also began to love Origen, ‘the friend and interpreter of the Word’” (p. 269). Only when this relationship became personal, was Gregory finally persuaded to give up those objects that stood in the way of Christian maturity. The master had to first know and love his students before he could cultivate their souls, and like a skilled husbandman, bring forth fruit from an uncultivated field. “To correct, reprove, exhort, and encourage his students, the master had to know their habits, attitudes, and desires. Origen’s love for his disciples was part of the process of formation” (p. 270).

This is the soul of genuine Christian mentoring. It is not a business-like, formal transaction of a superior to an inferior; nor is it a feel-good stroking of a student’s ego. It is rather an intentional life-guidance that is based on the mentor’s genuine love for the student, so that he is able to give either encouragement or rebuke when needed, all the while the student knows he is loved and valued. This is true mentoring, and it is desperately needed today, both in the lives of those preparing for ministry of some kind, and any young believer who takes his or her growth in godliness seriously.