Articles by Steve Long

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Recently, I was reading a passage from the third chapter of John, home of the world’s most familiar verse, and was struck by several verses that reflect God’s sovereignty in the choice of his elect.

Verse 19 says, “This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil.

The contrasting verse is verse 21, which says, “But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God.

It seems to me that this is not a case of men seeing the light of Christ and then evaluating how they should respond.  It’s not like they were presented a choice and could go either way.  On the contrary, their response was predetermined by who they were.

Those who love the darkness do so because they are evil doers.  Those who accept Christ do not become lovers of truth as a result of coming into the light; rather, they come into the light because God has awakened them to the truth.

Going back up to verse 8 (and preceding), Jesus compares the Spirit (Gr., pneuma) with wind (also pneuma).  He says that a re-born spirit is the work of the Spirit, and the Spirit is like the wind in that it “blows wherever it pleases.“  The main point is that spiritual rebirth is a very real thing despite the mechanism being unseen.  However, the passage also implies that the Spirit is not only the “mechanism” that does the regeneration, but also the reason why regeneration takes place.

John 3:16 (and 15) is frequently read as if belief is the criteria for being born again, which is in turn the criteria for eternal life.  However, that is not what Jesus said.  He simply said that those who believe will have eternal life.  I contend that it makes more sense in the context of the chapter to think that those who have been born again are those who will believe.  In other words, spiritual rebirth is the criteria for belief, not the other way around.

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My wife likes to say that she is a “Calvinist with tension.”  I’ve been thinking recently about what that means.  Of course, she would be the best person to explain the meaning of what she says, but I’m more given to precise definitions than she is, so I’m going to delve into my thoughts about it.  Who knows, maybe she will adopt my definition and incorporate it into her meaning!

A necessary component of developing precise definitions is understanding how people interpret the things they hear.  I’m going to make some assumptions about what people think about a “Calvinist with tension,” but the most helpful thing would be for you to tell me what you think when you hear this.

One of the things I assume people hear in this statement is a distinction from a dyed-in-the-wool Calvinist or a militant Calvinist who is completely unwilling to listen to objections or arguments from another point of view and thinks non-Calvinists are either uninformed, deceived, or worse.  That sort of Calvinist does not feel any tension; instead, they are rigid in their beliefs.  I would say that this understanding is, at least in part, a proper part of what it should mean to be a “Calvinist with tension.”

It’s also possible that hearers may interpret this as saying, “I consider myself a Calvinist, but there are aspects of Calvinism that I have doubts about.”  The understanding here is that the speaker favors Calvinism over other formulations, but isn’t really satisfied that Calvinism has the right answers.  While this is probably true for some people, I do not think this is a good understanding of what I would mean if I said I was a Calvinist with tension.  I think this understanding infers that the speaker is a Calvinist “for lack of a better option.”  If someone could show them a system that relieved their “tension” (doubts about Calvinism), they would gladly accept this other system in lieu of Calvinism.

In contrast, I would not define “tension” as doubts, but as a realization that some aspects of Calvinism may be difficult to grasp (not only for others, but for myself!).  I understand why people might have objections to Calvinism, and I recognize that some of these objections stem from principles that are true.  There are not always simple, cut-and-dried explanations that are satisfying.  It’s not a matter of a simple proof-text for all issues.  The tension comes from the very real need to reconcile things that are true that seem to be at odds with each other.

I think that an intellectually honest Arminian must also be an “Arminian with tension.”  This need not mean that they are not convinced of the truth of Arminianism.  It means that they don’t see objections as smoke-screens or man-made resistance to their position.  Instead, they recognize that a human explanation of divine truth may not be satisfactory to everyone.  There is limitation on both ends, in the human who gives the explanation and the human who listens to the explanation.

I believe that Calvinist positions are faithful to what the Bible teaches, but there is a tension between two (or more) different directions someone may take on an issue, and it is not always easy to explain how everything fits together.

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Along with countless others, I have enjoyed watching LOST for the last six years (or five, actually; I didn’t start watching until Season 2 was underway). There have been a lot of intriguing mysteries, interesting characters, and perplexing questions.

The series is now over, and I find myself asking, “Can you have a good story without having a good ending?”  Reading a few reviews and comments on the series finale, you find some people who are completely thrilled and satisfied with how the series ended. Others, like me, are disappointed and feel like the ending lacked a sense of meaning and resolution.  We had followed the stories of the various characters, hoping to understand the connections between various events.  We were hoping to be let in on the secret story arc that explained “why,” but we walked away empty-handed.

In my view, the letdown is primarily the result of writers who have been infected by existentialism.  Many people have bought into existentialism, whether they realize it or not. To an existentialist, existence is meaningless, outside of the meaning that you bring to your existence. The individual, and their choices, is all that really matters. It is not important for there to be “reasons” that tie the story together.1

The biggest problem with this (from the standpoint of a compelling story) is that when the individuals pass on, so does the meaning. There is no meaning for an outside observer; the “meaning” of LOST is trapped inside the church with all the characters.

Some good stories feature a mystery that is solved, or a problem that is overcome. When the mystery is solved, we understand what transpired and why certain things happened. When the problem is overcome, we are relieved, because we understand why the problem was bad and why the solution is good.

As LOST ended, some questions were answered and some problems were solved, but there was a lack of meaning. LOST had lots of storytelling, but the overarching meta-narrative or story arc was incomplete.  The smoke monster is defeated, but it’s never quite clear why he was so evil, so powerful, or what would happen if he wasn’t defeated. The island is saved, but it’s never quite clear why that was so important, what role its unique characteristics played, or what the consequences would be if it were destroyed. The primary role of the island seems to be a plot device that generated experiences wherein the characters could interact.

It’s okay to have a character-driven story without mysteries to solve or hurdles to overcome. However, one normally expects the characters to reveal something to us about ourselves or our fellow man.

Throughout LOST, there have been references to finding deeper meaning in life, to pursuing one’s purpose, and exploring the mysteries of free will and destiny. Although we should not expect a TV show to provide satisfactory answers for all these questions, many people were hoping for some explanations that would make some sense of all that has happened on the show.

In some sense, each of the characters discover their purpose and fulfill it. But it’s a hollow purpose that doesn’t add any meaning to the story. If Jack had failed, if Hurley had not taken his place, would it have really mattered? People have experiences; they do bad things; they do good things; they end up back together again with the people they love. But there is no substance behind it. There are no reasons to explain why those experiences mattered.  It might have even been okay if it had simply ended as a battle between good and evil, where good won out.  But the ending made the actual events irrelevant.  It’s simply, “here we are, all together again, isn’t this nice.” As Richard Vine blogged, “Heaven is a Drive Shaft gig: altogether now, ‘You all, everybody!’” Or, as one commenter summarized, “Sentimentality 1, Making sense 0.”

  1. Contrary to existentialism, Christianity declares that God defines human essence, He gives us our purpose, and He determines our destiny. We belong to Him, and our life is meaningful if we live according to His purposes. Read/Listen/Watch John Piper give a great explanation of this reality. []

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Dear Congressman Souder,

I would just like to thank you for your many years of service as a representative for our area.  While I may not have agreed with every vote you cast or decision you made, I believe that you served our area well.  I do not doubt that you honestly tried to do your best to vote according to your convictions, and I believe that your commitment to godly standards and strong families is sincere.

Thank you, too, for not seeking to deflect or minimize your sin, and for doing the right thing in stepping down from your position.

As a fellow Christian, I encourage you to not back away from your church or switch churches, but to allow your elders and friends at Emmanuel to assist you in seeking complete repentance and reconciliation.

My wife and I will keep you in our prayers.

Sincerely,

Steve Long

Yesterday it was revealed that Representative Mark Souder has been committing adultery and is resigning his congressional seat.

Some of his detractors are practically giddy. (The only thing they would like better is if it had been a homosexual affair.)  Here is a conservative, evangelical Christian; a staunch proponent of family values; if anyone should take the high road, it should be him.  Yet here he is, caught in the worst kind of hypocrisy.

I’d like to examine that hypocrisy.

Here are a couple definitions of hypocrisy:

  • a pretense of having a virtuous character, moral or religious beliefs or principles, etc., that one does not really possess. (dictionary.com)
  • a feigning to be what one is not or to believe what one does not; especially: the false assumption of an appearance of virtue or religion. (merriam-webster.com)

In a sense, there are two ways in which one can be a hypocrite:
1) Saying something that you don’t really believe.
2) Doing something that is contrary to what you believe.

In a strict sense, hypocrisy mainly belongs in the first category.  As someone has written on Wikipedia, hypocrisy “is not simply an inconsistency between what is praised or admired and what is done.”  The line between the first and second category is sometimes blurry, as our actions typically reveal our true convictions.  However, there is a difference between pretense and inconsistency.

I think Souder’s hypocrisy falls into the second category, of failing to live up to his beliefs.  I do not think that his stated convictions have been a “put on” to appeal to conservative voters.  I suspect that he truly believes in biblically-based morality.  If his affair had gone undetected, and if he continued to serve in Congress, I think he would have consistently voted for laws that affirm Judeo-Christian ethics and strong families.

The reason I’m glad Souder is resigning, is not primarily because I see him as having a hypocrisy problem.  It’s because I see him as having an integrity problem.  Many of the things Souder supported are things that I support too, and I think that his convictions were honest.  The problem is that he failed to live according to his convictions.

Somewhere along the line, Souder allowed himself to believe a lie.

Maybe he believed the lie that his situation was special, and his actions were justified.  This is possible, but I suspect he fully understood that his actions were wrong.

Maybe he believed the lie that the benefit outweighed the consequences.  I’m speculating that he thought they could keep it under wraps, and that this “one little indiscretion” would not impact his work.

This is the type of lie that I’m prone to succumb to.  I know something is wrong, but I think it’s not really THAT destructive, and the payoff is worth it.

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In a little more than a month (May 4), Indiana voters will have a chance to vote in a Primary Election to determine candidates for the General Election in November.

If you’re wondering who will be on the ballot, here’s a list of the Indiana primary candidates for all offices.

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They’re really not that far apart.

It probably comes as no surprise that a Unitarian Universalist has no real grasp on the gospel.  However, it may surprise some people that an atheist is actually closer to the truth than someone who considers themselves a “Christian.”  I found it interesting to compare and contrast the views of atheist Christopher Hitchens and Unitarian minister Marilyn Sewell in this interview between the two.

A few interesting exchanges are highlighted:

Sewell:

The religion you cite in your book is generally the fundamentalist faith of various kinds. I’m a liberal Christian, and I don’t take the stories from the scripture literally. I don’t believe in the doctrine of atonement (that Jesus died for our sins, for example). Do you make any distinction between fundamentalist faith and liberal religion?

Hitchens:

I would say that if you don’t believe that Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ and Messiah, and that he rose again from the dead and by his sacrifice our sins are forgiven, you’re really not in any meaningful sense a Christian.

Sewell:

Let me go someplace else. [continues with next question...]

While Hitchens rejects God and the gospel, at least he understands what the gospel message is.  Sewell thinks you can have “Christianity” without the gospel, and doesn’t really want to talk about the gospel.

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