The fact that all the people I know are better writers than me often keeps me from putting ideas to page. I have a tender little underbelly that was first scraped up by Professor Sweet, creative writing expert. But it’s been, like, 17 years, so maybe I should just move on. Here goes.

I was a part of this really interesting endeavor called Hutchmoot in Nashville. It was billed as a conference on writing, music, art, and God but I knew as soon as I walked in that it was more. Before I talk about how much more it was, I want to give a reference point for the lens through which I write.

I have been in a desert following a pillar of fire for about three years. I live in a neighborhood that scares most people like me, including me. There is ugliness. There is poverty and helplessness and crime and a lot of yelling. Of course, there is brokenness everywhere in everyone, because that is the way the world looks until Jesus makes all things new. But my house is planted in a bleaker landscape. The secrets that people keep, the lies and numbing and faking that I see at work, in the grocery store or at church are much less sophisticated in front of my house. Instead of the superego taming a pained person to put on a brave face, I see the id from my front porch. I see the hurting. It is exposed. It is explosive. And it elicits a sense of helplessness in me like I have never known.

I struggle with the concept of the “calling” of God to do things. But the burden on my heart to live in this place was unmistakable; this place that needs caring for in a very practical way, like cleaning up spoons that were used to cook up crack from front yards. The fancy term is neighborhood revitalization. The truth: I am struggling to find my own vital signs in this place. I came home to find my kitchen window smashed one time. A lockbox was taken that was assumed to have drugs and money in it. Instead, it contained ultrasound pictures of my daughter. I was sitting on the porch and heard gun shots ring out one street over. The shooter ran past me and looked into my eyes with a depth that even some of my friends do not. It has broken me to live here.

So in this broken state, feeling like I could not leave fast enough, I boarded a plane for Nashville. I prayed that God would bring me back to life. I asked for a way to understand the three years in the desert.

Walking into the church where the conference was held, I was absorbed like a droplet of water into the sea. But I was still me and they were still them and the sea was not chaos, but comfort. I was in a safe place. I wasn’t alone and I didn’t have to be strong. I listened to people tell the old, old story and sing about the pain of us all and peace that is coming where He will wipe away every tear. I was given a moment of what will be eternity; a celebration of all that God has created. He has created creators with hearts to tell stories to give meaning to others too weak to imagine for themselves.

I am home. And while my time on this street has been short, I can clean up this neighborhood in what little time I have left. I can plant trees and I can teach people to garden and I can paint buildings. But closer to the heart of what it means to revitalize, I can tell stories. With words, I can shape a context for those roaming this bleak landscape. God comforted me with story. I will care as I have been cared for.

My prayers will always be with the storytellers who stay behind when we’ve moved on.

I’ve heard it lots of times: “During the summer, when it’s hot, I just like a Bud Light or a Mic Ultra.” Here’s the good news: You don’t have to drink crappy beer just because it’s hot! Here are a few basic recommendations for excellent beers that go down easy at hot summer barbeques. This will be especially helpful for Rochesterians, or anyone who lives near a Wegmans, as they have specialty beer shops.

Sam Adams Summer Ale: I bring this one up first, because you can get it almost anywhere, often on tap at restaurants. This is a wheat beer that has a nice citric taste, with a bit of lemon zest. Look for it on tap when you go out for dinner.

Magic Hat #9: It’s not brewed specifically for summer, but this is a great beer for summer time. Very light bodied (though not a “light beer”), this is a dry beer with an apricot essence, but it’s not overly fruity or too sweet. Nicely balanced, and goes down just a little too easy.

Southern Tier Hop Sun: This has become my favorite summer ale. It’s a wheat beer that’s a little hoppier than other summer ales, but not overwhelmingly so. I’ve had this in my fridge since it showed up on shelves this year. Tip: Get this on draft with a dozen Buffalo wings. If you’re in Rochester, it’s on tap at MacGregor’s, and their wings are decent.

Sierra Nevada Summerfest Lager: This is a very crisp pilsner with lots of flavor and a nice hop/malt balance. Great and refreshing for summer parties. After drinking this, you’ll laugh whenever you hear a TV commercial talking about “great pilsner taste” in reference to Miller Light or Bud Light. This is a great pilsner taste.

Speaking of a great pilsner taste, Sam Adams did a great pilsner for their Spring offering. If you live near a Beers of the World type store that is still carrying some Spring stuff, pick up a 6 pack of Sam Adams Noble Pils. It would also work as a great summer beer.

Rohrbach’s Summer Wheat: This one only works if you live in Rochester, as Rohrbach’s doesn’t bottle. But stop by their restaurant or brewery and get their yearly summer offering. It’s always citrusy goodness that goes down easy and is very refreshing. Their Bluebeary ale, a year-round offering, is spectacular for hot days, especially at the Red Wings ballpark, where it’s on tap.

That should get you started. Others you might like: Leinenkugel’s “Sunset Wheat” and Magic Hat’s “Circus Boy” (a hefeweizen). I wouldn’t bother with Blue Moon’s Honey Moon. I plan to try a few more in the next couple weeks, including Goose Island’s 312 Urban Wheat and Summertime ales.

But please, whatever you do, stop settling for light beers because it’s summer. You don’t have to drink that stuff. There’s great taste and refreshment to be found in good beer!

Scot McKnight argues that “universalism” is the biggest challenge facing evangelicalism for 3 reasons:

1. universalism suggests personal conversion is not finally necessary
2. it calls into question the importance and even necessity of evangelism as a form of Christian activism
3. it weakens the atoning significance of the death of Jesus if it is understood as that which separates the believer from the non-believer

Surely these aren’t impossible hurdles for someone who embraces a Christian universalism. To be fair, he doesn’t take up the point of a specifically Christian universalism, and he addresses this in comment #8. But, as others did (I wrote this post before reading the comments), I’ll make the evangelical universalist response:

1. It suggests no such thing, as “every knee will bow, and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.” The Christian universalist only denies that death is the final chance to personally convert.
2. It most certainly does not call these things into question, as the only one who saves and heals is still Jesus. Jesus is still the only redemption and motivation for activism.
3. A doctrine that says Jesus’ death will eventually save all is definitely not a “weaker” doctrine as one that says He will only save some. Apart from that, I’m not sure what he’s saying about the separation of believer from non-believer. That separation still exists and is not weakened anymore than it is by the difference between a believer and a non-believer who will convert next week.

As I explore this whole question of who will be saved, bad arguments on both sides need to be dissected.

I’m hoping to find time soon for a post on C.S. Lewis’s The Great Divorce, which I recently re-read.

Here comes a big statement that I figure I’ll make whilst this blog is still struggling back to life and has few readers: I don’t think becoming a universalist makes one a heretic.

Take a deep breath. Another. Another. Good. Let me proceed.

I mean specifically a Christian universalism. It’s the minority position by far in church history, but orthodox theologians have believed that God would in Christ reconcile all to himself in the end. “Every knee will bow, and every tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord.” Some version of universalism, or at least the acceptance of its possibility, was held by Clement, Origen, Gregory of Nazianzus, St. Gregory of Nyssa, St. Jerome, and many others. St. Basil and Augustine both noted that the belief was “widespread” and held by “very many.” Annihilationism has been held by no less than John Stott. N.T. Wright and C.S. Lewis both put for ideas both about there being far more saved than we imagine, and about any unsaved completely losing their humanity altogether (ceasing to be human, which I take to be a form of annihilation).

We’re not talking about fringe folks here. These are undoubtedly Christians. This is one of those things that makes me stop and revisit beliefs I’ve always had, and ask difficult questions about those beliefs. I intend to chronicle some of those questions soon. In the meantime, some brief notes about a book I just read on the subject.

To be clear: I am not saying that I am a universalist. But I am very interesting in reading arguments for universalism. I came across the book If Grace is True: Why God Will Save Every Person, by Philip Gulley and James Mulholland, so I grabbed a copy from the library and starting plowing through. I was hoping for a solid argument for Christian universalism. I did not find it here.

This book is a pick-and-choose theology that is illogical, poorly argued, and based on the simple belief that “God whispered to” the author and told him something, and now everything else needs to fit. By just over halfway through the book, he’s completed jumped the shark by ditching Jesus as the means of salvation, as well as his divinity, while continuing to appeal to Jesus and the Scriptures (certain selected ones) to make his case.

A simple disclaimer about theology: If you’re just some random guy in the 21st century, and you think that because God whispered to you, you can just begin picking and choosing what parts of 2,000 years of Christian theology are valid and which are not, you’re not credible. And you’re too arrogant to be listened to.

If there is any possibility at all that an argument can be made for Christian universalism, it must remain Christian. Jesus still has to be the one to do the saving.

I recently asked at The Rabbit Room whether readers there are more Took or Baggins. A great discussion has ensued.

So what are you? Answer at The Rabbit Room.

*News Theme Song* It’s the return of the Weekend Report! *News Theme Song*

iMonk’s Passing

Since news is usually sad, I’ll begin with the reminder that today is the Memorial Service for our dear friend, Michael Spencer. I am sad and frustrated that I couldn’t make the drive down to Kentucky. Keep a close watch on the Boar’s Head Tavern, where we will certainly be continuing to honor the Internet Monk today.

Chaplain Mike, who’s been keeping InternetMonk.com going over the past few months, has been linking some classic iMonk articles. Read these, and you’ll know why his writing was a big deal to so many of us. Links:

• Wretched Urgency: The Grace of God or Hamsters on a Wheel – This article completely changed my perspective on the church and evangelism. Read it.
• On Christless Preaching – I want to stab myself in the eye with a pencil whenever I hear a self-help sermon.
• Why I Am a Christian (10 Reasons) – A good apologetic for the faith.

This morning, I was looking for an article Michael wrote on Harry Potter, and in searching his site, found one of the times he’d linked me. It’s an articled called “The Night of Weeping,” and it’s closely related to what I wrote yesterday about Theological Pain.

Interesting Links

• I love grammar jokes.
• I feel like I need to write something really profound about the Tiger Woods commercial.
• Best photo caption ever

I haven’t picked up a book of theology in a very, very long time.

These days I find most of my theology in story. (If you want to know what stories I’m reading, find me on GoodReads.) Honestly, I’m just weary of theology. I’m not bored with it. I’m tired. Exhausted. Worn out. I’m sick of everyone thinking the finer points of their theology are the articles on which the church will stand or fall. I’m fatigued by the rehearsing of the same old topics, with the same old arguments, and the mindless reassertions of something you heard someone else say with conviction, and the refusal to honestly grope with an opposing point of view.

Theology causes my brain pain these days. I know what you’re going to say before you say it. I already know that you think five-point Calvinism (or whatever) is essential to true Christianity, and I already know why you think it is, and I already know all the verses you’ll use, and all the counter-arguments you’ll use, and how you’ll reason from each text, and I bet I know most of what you’ll say word for word. You’re making me tired, and you haven’t even started talking yet.

I know that some of this is just my own crankiness. I know that some of it is the insecurity rooted in the simple fact that over the past few years, my theological position on things has changed more times than I’d like to admit. I once set myself up as a biblical guide for others to follow. It was all a lie; I’m a wandering star.

But I also know there are others out there like me. Some of you are hurting because you can’t ask questions. (Those questions are dangerous.) Some of you are in pain because your confusion is not allowed. (It’s lack of faith.) Some of you ache inside because you can’t make some theological positions that have been forced into your head make much sense with reality anymore.  There are so many manifestations of this.

• You’re not allowed to ask about evolution. All that science is a lie of the devil to get you to disbelieve Genesis and therefore cast doubt on the whole Bible.
• You’re not allowed to ask about power, race, and gender. Those are “liberal” concerns.
• You’re not allowed to deeply struggle inside about the concept of God’s eternally tormenting his creation in a lake of fire. If you do, it’s because you’re not willing to accept the “hard” truth. You’re just a pomo hippy or something.
• You’re not allowed to long for an ancient worship that is rooted in 2,000 years of church history. You’ll lose relevance in our culture.
• You’re not allowed to question the lunacy going on at the front of your church. You might blaspheme the Holy Spirit.
• And whatever you do, don’t ask about the homosexual couples who are better examples of committed, sacrificial love than 80% of the Christian marriages you know. You’re on the road to accepting immorality if you bring that up.

Insert your own. You get it. I’m downright exhausted with the games we play with our theological discussions.

I get the danger of losing the orthodox faith altogether. I really do. But when the rules of theological conversation put honest questions – raw, difficult, real life questions – in the penalty box, I say the game is rigged so that one team wins and the other loses every time.

And the problem with this is that it hurts real people. I’m not going to be afraid of the questions I ask or the subjects I bring up. I’m not going to be scared by the threat that I might “lead someone astray.” It’s better to have everyone face the tough questions and find Jesus in the answer than to suppress them and forfeit huge parts of the fallen human experience and struggle.

Finding the answer in Jesus is the goal of it all. The gospel – you know, that good news for broken and hurting people – is not just a “foundation,” or a starting place. It’s the beginning, middle, and end of all theological conversations. If we don’t end up at the gospel of God’s unfailing love in Jesus, we didn’t have a theology conversation. We had a debate about rules and regulations, and we’ve become Pharisees.

So I’m going to pick up theology books again. (I’m going to start with Eugene Peterson.) But I’m going to pick them up looking for Jesus, not looking for better and stronger points to win arguments. I’ll share what I find – as well as the tough questions I want to ask – in these Letters from the Perilous Realm.

The thing about Michael Spencer is that you so often found your own theological thoughts and struggles in his words, even when you disagreed. When you’re wrestling with theological issues, it’s good to find your thoughts in other people’s words – especially the ones you can’t find words for.

The loss of Michael means the loss of one of those voices, and I’m of the opinion that I’m going to need to rediscover my own voice as a result. (That’s probably something I shouldn’t have lost anyway.) There are so many issues in my head that I’m trying to get a handle on right now. Just to name a few: politics, gender roles, the evangelical circus, Hell and universalism, mainline denominations, theology and worship practice. I’d like to begin working through these and others again here while trying to find Jesus in all of it.

I’ve tried many times before to get my writing going here again. I hope this one sticks. (Not making any promises, for the record.)

I rarely have time for this blog anymore, though at one point, I was writing quality enough material here that Michael Spencer put me in his blogroll. And he’s why I write here again tonight.

More than that, he’s one of the reasons I write in the first place. Five or six years ago when I started writing, I discovered Internet Monk and the Boar’s Head Tavern. The BHT looked like a blast to me, so I sent Michael a bit about myself and this writing sample, and I was let in. I’ve been then on and off over the past five years, probably most active whenever a discussion on race got going (Michael and I tended to disagree on a few fundamentals there).

Now, I know the BHT isn’t a blog of professional writers, but something about Michael’s willingness to have me write for the site made me think that I could do well as a writer. I’ve since gone on to publish books, and I’m honored to have been asked to write an essay for a tribute book for Michael.

Sadly, he’ll never read it, as he died of cancer tonight. I can’t quite handle it. I didn’t think it was possible to cry this much about someone you’d never met in person. (We tried to make arrangements to do so twice, but both fell through … I regret deeply not trying harder, now.) I made one attempt to distract myself by picking up a book that has commanded my attention for the past two days, a few paragraphs in, I was in tears again.

Michael will be greatly missed. It’s been a while since the fallenness of the world and a desire for it all to be healed has gripped me quite this strongly. To adapt Bebo Norman just a little:

It was not his time
That’s a useless lie
A fallen world took his life

My prayers are with the Spencers tonight, but they are little more than “help,” and “When will this all finally end?”