The Second Commandment:
A Conversion of the Imagination


I recently preached a sermon on the second commandment at Redeemer Presbyterian Church entitled, A Conversion of the Imagination, which you can purchase here. I then re-preached it at the Village Church (which is a church plant of Redeemer) and you can listen to it free here.

The three points were as follows:

1. The Purpose of the Imagination
Since humans are created in God's image and are vice-regents, God's under-kings, the use of the imagination is a good thing, and quite honestly, a very human thing to do. We are to use our imaginations to envison a world where shalom is the norm. And we're to rule over the created order. That's what "kings" do!

2. The Problem with the Imagination
But, ever since the fall, we misuse our imaginations and envision God wrongly. We either imagine him as something we're suppose to rule over, ("the fish our the sea, the birds of the air or every living creature that moves along the ground"), or, we imagine him to be just like us. So, what we need is...

3. A Conversion of the Imagination
Ever since the beginning of time, ever since the creation of the world, God has always known how he'd want to be imagined: "Jesus Christ is the image of the invisible God, the first born over all creation." So, to imagine God as he wants to be imagined, to see him in the face of Jesus Christ, is to have our imaginations converted.

The Straw That Broke the Camel's Back:
Why I Switched to the NRSV


Beyond the fact that most noteworthy scholars today use the NRSV, I've got my own reasons too. Here's one:

Everyone has their theological pet-peeves. One of mine is paedo-baptism. I guess you can say that I'm just a good presbyterian working out his covenant theology to its rightful (logical) conclusion.

So, when I was counseling a diaconate candidate out of my NIV--a candiate who was struggling with paedo-baptism--and turned to Acts 16 where Paul baptizes the Philippian jailer's entire household (oikos) based on his belief, and saw that the NIV took the liberty of changing the pronoun to a plural (his to their faith, pepisteukos), and also found that there weren't any text-critical issues to speak of, well, that was "the straw that broke the camel's back." I picked up my leather-bound NRSV and put it in my backpack and took the NIV and buried it on my shelf. (Even though the NIV's proper place is in the trash, I cannot, for the life of me, chuck a Bible.)

The Hermeneutics of Life


Every day we try to make sense of life. And if not just our own lives, then we (especially pastors) try to help others make sense of theirs. It's simply one of the great human (and pastoral) endeavors! It doesn't matter what it is we're dealing with, or what we're trying to sift through, because the fact remains, we're always "dealing" and "sifting." Why? Because we never have all the data! It's just impossible! In other words, we're forced to attempt to make sense of our lives (or the lives of others) with various little bits and pieces of the story. New information is always surfacing; new data is always coming to the fore. Sometimes I think it's a kin to painting by numbers or a jigsaw puzzle--that all we can do is take an educated guess at what the picture is as we put color on the canvas or put another piece in the puzzle.

In Grant R. Osborne's book, The Hermeneutical Spiral, "Osborne contends that hermeneutics is a spiral from text to context--a movement between the horizon of the text and the horizon of the reader that spirals nearer and nearer toward the intended meaning of the text and its significance for today."

Making sense of life's situations is much the same as Osborne's thesis (especially in pastoral counseling). We move between the bits of data we receive and how we understand them, spiraling ever closer to "the truth"--what's really going on; what someone truly needs.

The "hermeneutics of life" can also be compared to viewing a Lichtenstein painting (since a Lichenstein is nothing other than a collection of dots: To view it properly you'll have to move between getting very close to the canvas and backing off it. If you're too close to the canvas, all you'll notice are large dots that make absolutely no sense; if your too far off, you'll never notice that the painting is a collection of dots. The movement between to two is essential!