Losing the wonder of salvation

Entropy is a measure of a system’s disorder; with time, it increases. When applied to the universe, it is a degradation of matter and energy to an eventual state of cold uniformity. When the universe reaches maximum entropy, it will be lifeless and inert. Reversing entropy is the stuff of science fiction, although I imagine it will happen at Christ’s return when the universe is remade.

I’ve come to think that there is also a form of spiritual entropy. When first we are saved from sin and reconciled to God, we are filled with the wonder of it all. John Bunyan put it like this (my emphasis):

Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which Christian was to go, was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall was called Salvation. Isaiah 26:1. Up this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load on his back.

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending; and upon that place stood a cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more.

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, “He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his death.” Then he stood still a while, to look and wonder; for it was very surprising to him that the sight of the cross should thus ease him of his burden.

When – or just before – I became a Christian in 1978, my first prayer was that if all the claims of Jesus were true, I would somehow be able to believe them. And, while you are at it, please give me a hand quitting smoking. The next morning I woke up convinced that Jesus is who he claims to be. And as a non-smoker.

I was overcome with the wonder of it all. How could He save a wretch like me? Numerous things that had made no sense suddenly came into focus like pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle flying together with a loud click. Not everything became clear, of course: I still don’t understand quantum mechanics.

Over time, spiritual entropy sets in: the wonder of it all fades and I have once more to bring the early days to mind; to do otherwise is to grow cold to the Gospel or even forget what it is.

The church has the same problem. It doesn’t just grow cold, though, it replaces the Gospel with something else and calls it the Gospel. Social justice is the usual substitute. Or “equal marriage” as it’s called. Or “climate justice”. Or “inclusion”.

There is no wonder in these, just dreary shabbiness.

Eager to enter the competition for who can pollute the Gospel with the most drearily shabby, cliché-ridden tripe from the fevered imagination of underemployed theologians, ACNA has joined the race.  The Matthew 25 Initiative is live and is inviting all who wish to abandon their first love to join it. And lose the wonder of it all.

On social justice, ACNA now in hot pursuit of TEC

I recently received an email extoling the benefits of attending a new ACNA course: Living Isa58, a project of the Matthew 25 Initiative (M25i for those who dislike typing).

There is a lot of what I would consider gobbledegook in the Matthew 25 Initiative. Here, (you have to sign up to read the whole thing) for example:

God’s purposes for this world are not for its destruction, but for its renewal. In the end, shalom is rewoven through all of creation and within all of God’s people. Peacemaking, then, is the work of co-substantiating this hope, the Kingdom of God, with God. It is pursuing justice and the reweaving of shalom with an orientation to healing and repair.

That sounds like what William Buckley used to call immanentizing the eschaton, although the next sentence was included to allay that suspicion:

God leads the work and will accomplish it fully at the final consummation of the new order, when heaven and earth become one. But today we are God’s co-creators: we are given the agency and ability to help put flesh on this coming Kingdom now. In word and deed, it is the very work of declaring the good news of the gospel: that Jesus is King and His Kingdom is at hand.

I remain suspicious and wonder whether the authors remember that Jesus also said “My Kingdom is not of this world”.

Archbishop Steve Wood has recorded a video on the Matthew 25 Initiative:

It was recorded in March and has had 285 views. One of those views was me. Such is the level of interest in what he had to say.

In his video he laments that some of what he says might be interpreted as political whereas, really, it is just the Gospel. He’s right, that is how I interpreted it. I have no problem with clergy venting their political inclinations, I just wish they wouldn’t call it the Gospel.

That’s how the rot set in with TEC and the ACoC.

For more evidence that this is political – generally left-leaning – the M25i’s white paper on peace-making (you have to sign up to see it) quotes a  Palestinian theologian Rev. Dr. Mitri Raheb:

“Rev. Dr. Mitri Raheb states, “Hope is what you do.”

I’m not sure what he means by that but, elsewhere, Rev. Dr. Mitri Raheb is perfectly clear and perfectly political: Israel is committing war crimes in Gaza and the solution is political action. He doesn’t mention Hamas or any responsibility it might bear.

From here:

Yet, the more I thought about it, the more I started understanding her answer. In this context of a war crime, committed against the civilian population in Gaza, what is needed is more than prayer; what is needed is advocacy, what is needed is political action, what is needed is for people to go on the streets demanding an end to this aggression.

Similarly an M25i (yes, I know the abbreviation is irritating. It sounds like a UK motorway) white paper on immigration regrets that:

Churches in North America may not always be able to substantially influence public policy or affect changes to current laws that seem unjust, out-dated or contradictory.

The author clearly wants to influence public policy, a position I wouldn’t necessarily quarrel with had his archbishop not claim that it’s all about the Gospel not politics.

To be clear, as individuals I’m all for the Gospel influencing our political choices, but I’m wary when clergy start equating those choices with the Gospel.

Even allowing for the fact that, on occasion, I am given to undue pessimism, none of this looks good for ACNA.