I just finished reading The Diluted Church by Timothy L. Price. My friend, Jason Baker, sent it to me a few days ago. Price touches on several key topics throughout his book, but a couple points really caught my eye.

A former writer for the Army’s third largest newspaper and a solidly unapologetic Evangelical Christian, Price argues that the assumption that American Christians owe their allegiance to God’s Kindgom and to the U.S. is a fallacious twist of Scripture’s true message.

He writes, “God is not an American and He has no eternal interest in this country. He is interested in each person and his or her soul’s condition. God isn’t cheering when America beats the Chinese on trade deficits, or who broke the sound barrier first. He could not care less!”

While no one can say exactly what God does or does not care about, Price’s point is well taken: we’ve elevated the United States to a place of divine appointment without a consistent scriptural basis to do so.

Putting Christianity and nationalism together, Price argues, leads us toward a regrettable duplicity. He refers to the ‘servant of two masters’ passage in the sixth chapter of Matthew, which discusses how we can have either a primary relationship with either money or God but not both. According to Price, the ‘servant of two masters’ priciple readily applies itself to the impossibility maintaining a primary allegiance to both God and country.

Price explains, “This text, of course, is speaking of money and the danger of it owning us. At the same time there is a principle we can draw from what Christ said: we cannot have two things directing our lives. They will fight against each other.”

Although I’m sometimes uncomfortable with Price’s reference to ‘the enemy’ and to the Satan-as-Prince-of-the-Earth motif, he uses it well, and in a way I believe it is meant to be used.

Price writes, “One of the key activities of the enemy is to destroy. The quickest way to destroy any group’s effectiveness is to divide it.” Price claims that paying homage to the state, we divide our singular allegiance to God.

In addition to his discussions about nationalism and the church, I came across a particularly interesting discussion about conservative political activism.

He writes, “If all we are doing is putting our fingers into all the holes in a damn, holding back total anarchy, we have failed to solve the real problems in the process. In addition, we have preoccupied ourselves with a ruse. We have become fools to think that we can successfully legislate morality of people thorugh law as an extension of our vote.”

Before making the point above, Price explains, “I am surprised that we, who believe in a Holy God, waste our time trying to get people to act morally without the gospel, as the basis for being able to be moral, having been addressed in the process.”

Perhaps Price is suggesting that with our attempts to legislate morality, we’re not properly representing a true, transformative gospel message; rather, we’re merely presenting the legalistic half of what the bible teaches. Spiritually, this is like telling chopping off someone’s right leg, forcing them to run a marathon, and expecting them to like it.

On the whole, Price’s book is a tad bit conservative for me to fully align myself with it, but I believe—with respect to our biblical imperative and the role of the church in relation to the state, and the role of the church in today’s society as a whole—it is one of the most clear-headed books about modern Christianity I’ve head the pleasure of reading. Price argues that we not spoon feed ourselves with the teachings of the church without considering first whether there is a sound biblical basis for these teachings.

The topics from Price’s book that I’ve mentioned here are only the tip of the iceburg, as well as his discussion of these topics. His is a balanced, well-developed, and articulate expression of thoughtful Christian living and discipleship.

Here’s a song I wrote before moving to Seattle from Holden…several years ago. I now live in Minnesota, of course. As a special feature of this video, you get to see my bald head in full view. Wahooo!

Here it is: Movin’ On

It seems most of our discussions with respect to homosexuality and the like come down to one or two key assumptions. The most significant of these key assumptions has to do with one’s relationship to the Bible.

Some conservatives believe that theirs is a fairly pure interpretation of Scripture, which guides them toward the belief that they are, in fact, doing what God has called them to do, especially with regard to prohibitive nuances and codes of purity. One of the most notable criticisms that folks on the right have of folks on the left is that they take the Bible too lightly, and in doing so, they are, in fact, disobeying God. And for followers on the left, who criticize followers on the right, their beef is that the conservative use of Scripture is both oppressive and selective. Both sides identify with Jesus and often feel that Jesus is more sympathetic with their position than the position held by folks on the other side.

Of course, there are as many different variations from “right” and “left” as one can imagine. And, in many respects, “right” and “left” are imaginary; they’re abstract and change readily, depending on who one talks to about either supposedly conservative or liberal issues.

But certainly the Bible is God’s word. Or, at least, the closest we’ve come to having God’s words written down on paper to read as daily devotions, to reference in enriching conversations, or to use in a vociferous round of biblical proof-texting—as is often done when both sides wish to flex their scripture quoting muscles.

In a mild proof-texting dual, one arguer might say, “God says that we shall not kill,” while his opponent might suggests that “there is a time for war and a time for peace.” So which is it? Is there an absolute answer to this question? Or is God’s answer for us to surface as we discuss and dissect key scriptures. Obviously, I’m arguing the later.

But there are some commandments that are non-negotiable, right? Before heading to down that path—attempting to figure out which of God’s commandments are absolute and which are not—I’d like to suggest that God’s relationship with us really does involve dialogue and radical listening. An example of this is when Abraham is tested by God. He asks him to kill is son, Isaac. If Abraham had a Bible, and had the Ten Commandments become fully canonized by that time he would’ve been able to consult God’s word and not have any doubt in his mind about what he ought to do. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a Bible handy, so God spoke to him directly, and Abraham answered him directly. But even if he did have a Bible handy, shouldn’t he have listened to God anyway? At the last minute, God tells Abraham to spare Isaac, and the story lives on as one of those key God moments that wasn’t about absolute, unwavering moral clarity, but, instead, it was about Abraham cultivating a deeply intimate relationship with God.

This gets to be a bit shaky, I realize, because if we all thought God was speaking to us directly, especially in the case of God telling us to sacrifice our son, we’d be wrapped up in a tight white straight-jacket long before ever getting our son to the altar. I’m of the practical opinion that really ought to not get too radical with what we hear God telling us to do. Hence the title of this essay: “A Small Measure of Radical Listening.” There are plenty of ways to be radical followers, but I wouldn’t suggest that we ought to tap into Abraham’s level of devotion.

I believe that Jesus really does guide us to a small measure of radical listening. Jesus introduced us to an intimate relationship with God that rose above and beyond absolute moral, textual prescriptions (apart from his requirement that we love our neighbors as ourselves). He also taught us to measure actions by their fruits, which I firmly believe is a sound and applicable principle. But what was guiding Jesus in all this? Certainly not some flakey post-modern preference or secular humanist doctrine.

Today we say, “Man, those Pharisees at Jesus’ time, they sure were wicked.” I don’t think they were all that wicked. They were doing what was taught to them by their mothers and fathers and by Scripture: God’s word. Had I been around at that time and had I been a Pharisee, I’m not sure I would’ve been one of Jesus’ followers. In fact, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have been. (To say nothing of the chances that I would leave everything and follow a dude like him even today…yikes.) Perhaps it’s dangerous for me identify myself with the Pharisees, but in some measure, I think it’s healthy.

I might’ve said something like, “No way! This guy is throwing key biblical traditions and practices out the window. Not only that, but he called my brother a viper. Anyone who calls my brother a viper certainly can’t be speaking on behalf of God! That’s no way to make peace, and it certainly doesn’t seem like a very fruitful approach. And this Jesus guy, he’d have nothing to say were it not for those of us who have protected the obeyed the law all this time.”

So, sadly, I’d probably not been one of the faithful. But I wouldn’t have beat myself up over it, nor do I think God would’ve condemned me to hell for it, either. I think God might’ve seen that I was trying to do the right thing, and that no faithful group God’s people really ought to follow around self-proclaimed messiahs. It’s just not a good way to stay anchored in society, and following a vagabond messiah really isn’t a good way to raise a family either.

It’s not easy to figure out how best to listen to God. And I don’t believe it is as simple as laying out a list of rules and following them. If it were that simple, there would be no need for dialogue and without dialogue we close the door on the Holy Spirit, which is probably a bad habit to get into. But even if I do close that door from time to time, I think God forgives me. After all, when Jesus hung on the cross, he said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” When Jesus was talking about “them,” I believe he was talking about me. And if I’ve learned anything from Jesus’ life, it’s that I now have permission to intoduce a small measure of radical listening into my life; a measure radical listening that doesn’t always lead me where I expect to go.