I have remarkably few enemies.  Yet there is one in particular that I’d like to introduce you to today.  Her name is Kate Turabian.  If you or your kids have been around school at any time in recent history, you know the name not for the person, but for the classic “Kate Turabian” style of formatting.  This means that everything you write not only has to match the “Turabian” style in both font and spacing, but headings and subheadings require a set number of spaces.  Your citations have to be carefully footnoted in the exactly proper form.  The white edges on the sides of your papers have to be a certain width.  And if you’re a student, you know the perplexing sting of learning you lost points on a paper because—and I’m not exaggerating—your hyphens were too wide.

Turabian.  The name has become synonymous with an environment of strict standards and rigorous literalism.  So it’s actually a bit exasperating to open the book of Hebrews to see the way the author often plays fast and loose with the way he haphazardly quotes Old Testament texts—with no citations, mind you.  It’s no wonder the author remained unnamed—who’d want their graders to see how sloppy this sermon is?

What’s the author doing, exactly?  The author of Hebrews is demonstrating something fundamental about the Christian Bible: that no Scripture is complete until it is understood in light of Jesus.  This doesn’t mean that the Bible is open to being interpreted and re-interpreted, but it does mean that we understand the Bible only when we learn to see Jesus on every page.  So in Hebrews 2:5-13, we see the author of Hebrews using a series of Old Testament quotations to explain just how awesome Jesus truly is.  Let’s look at this text with the citations supplied (by me) in bold:

5 For it was not to angels that God subjected the world to come, of which we are speaking. 6 It has been testified somewhere,

“What is man, that you are mindful of him,

or the son of man, that you care for him?
7 You made him for a little while lower than the angels;
you have crowned him with glory and honor,
8     putting everything in subjection under his feet.” [PSALM 8:4-6]

 Now in putting everything in subjection to him, he left nothing outside his control. At present, we do not yet see everything in subjection to him. 9 But we see him who for a little while was made lower than the angels, namely Jesus, crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.

10 For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering. 11 For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers, 12 saying,

“I will tell of your name to my brothers;

in the midst of the congregation I will sing your praise.” [PSALM 22:22]

13 And again,

“I will put my trust in him.” [Psalm 18:2]

And again,

“Behold, I and the children God has given me.” [ISAIAH 8:18]

 In today’s world, it’s tempting to select certain “favorite” verses or passages and make them something of a “life verse.”  There’s certainly nothing wrong with having a few favorite passages, but the author here is saying that the Bible must be read as a continual story of God working in the world.  One author writes:

 “…the author [reads] non-narrative texts against the backdrop of the narrative of salvation history.  He ‘narrativized’ material from Psalms and Proverbs, sometimes taking them as scripts on the lips of Christ or as prophetic words of God in relation to events in the new covenant.  Words in non-narrative genres are read as words within the overarching narrative of salvation history.” (Ken Schenck, “God has Spoken,” in The Epistle to the Hebrews and Christian Theology, p. 324)

This is why the division between “Old Testament” and “New Testament” is somewhat misleading.  The division came in the early centuries of the church, when a man named Jerome noted the contrast between the “old covenant” described by the prophets and the “new covenant” described by Jesus and his followers (the book of Hebrews will later make fuller explanation of this difference).  So, he concluded, we should call the earlier scriptures the “Old Testament,” and the writings featuring Jesus and his followers the “New Testament.”  But really, we need to recognize that the kinds of quotations we find in Hebrews aren’t that unusual.  In his commentary on the Bible, A.E. Hill estimates that about 32 percent—yes, a third—of the New Testament is composed of quotations from the Old Testament (!).  That’s a lot.  And it highlights the way that the Bible is meant to be one unified story.

This also helps us understand how the Bible differs from other ancient and other religious writings.  Even now we’re seeing some friction (to put it mildly) between Western cultures and the nature of Islam.  Two articles from The Atlantic magazine (both in the last month or so) have been particularly telling.  In the first, called “What ISIS Really Wants,” Graeme Wood highlights the deep connection of Islamic beliefs and the recent escalation of violence.  In a counter-article, called “The Phony Islam of ISIS,” Caner K. Dagli notes the ways that ISIS has really just hijacked religious language—the Quran, after all, is a starting point, and must be coupled with other writings such as the Hadith (the sayings of Muhammad).  The result is a confusing web.  We needn’t get stuck in the details of this, only to note that when a religious text is intended only to reflect a person’s experiences, we are left only with questions of interpretation.   Does Islam promote violence?  Or peace?  Even these questions are partially obscured by the Muslim doctrine of “abrogation,” where certain texts are thought to “replace” pre-existing ones (!).

The Christian Bible is radically different.  Yes, there are passages that generate confusion.  Yes, there have been passages used (inappropriately) to justify violence and oppression.  But the overarching story—the one the writer of Hebrews bids us to lose ourselves in—is one of salvation and redemption, a promise fulfilled in the arrival of Jesus.

But what about you and me?  Sometimes it’s easy to flounder in our Bible reading because, well, we’re separated from the original culture by a few centuries or more.  There’s a book on my shelf called The Hermeneutical Spiral.  It’s one of those books you only read once, but the author’s central image is extraordinarily helpful.  Grant Osborne (the author) suggests that when we read and interpret a part of the Bible, we’re really sort of drawing circles around it.  The more we read, the more we interpret, the more our circles will spiral closer and closer toward the center—that is, toward the exact meaning.  We may start of spinning in circles around a particular text, but with time, with experience, with community, we draw closer and closer toward the truth.  This is partly why attending a Sunday morning worship service is so spiritually vital—because it is there that we grow in our understanding of God’s word as we hear it unfolded and explained.  This is partly why a mid-week community group is important—because it is there that we see how God’s word impacts the everyday lives of those with whom we share life.  Everyone loves a good story.  And the Bible is the greatest of all.

“Belief” is a funny thing.  In today’s world, the degree of your belief is often seen as a reflection of your character.  Specifically, we tend to admire those who make a “leap of faith,” and the greater the leap the higher the admiration.  Faith, we assume, is about making a commitment independent of intellect.  And it’s no wonder, then, that Christianity’s harshest critics have specifically targeted this aspect of Christianity.  In his book Letter to a Christian Nation, Sam Harris defines faith as “nothing more than the license religious people give one another to keep believing when reasons fail.”

But historically speaking, Christianity has not rested on “blind faith.”  Rather, faith was deeply, intricately connected to the human experience, touching our intellects, our emotions, and our actions.  God’s earlier followers had been commanded to “love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might” (Deuteronomy 6:5)—that is, to connect faith to our thoughts, feelings, and actions.

Later in Christian history, the “reformers” of Christianity (the guys that brought us the Protestant reformation, that is) defined faith as having three essential components: (1) knowledge—that is, the knowledge of God, (2) agreement with that knowledge, and (3) a trust—usually a trust that emphasized some sort of response.  So Christianity has no history of “blind” faith or leaps in the dark.  On the contrary; Christianity has historically emphasized a holistic form of faith, one that defies our tendency to compartmentalize ourselves—or worse, to overemphasize the intellect to the neglect of obedience.

Tragically today’s North American church has done precisely that: we have overemphasized emotion above all else, and in many ways rendered ourselves indistinguishable from a culture in which “feeling is believing.”  In his book Bad Religion, Ross Douthat of the New York Times cites religious scholar Mark Lilla, who notes the way Christianity has turned not downward, but inward:

“A half-century ago, an American Christian seeking assistance could have turned to the popularizing works of serious religious thinkers…Those writers were steeped in philosophy and the theological traditions of their faiths, which they brought to bear on the vital spiritual concerns of ordinary believers…But intellectual figures like these have disappeared from the American landscape and have been replaced by half-educated evangelical gurus who either publish vacant, cheery self-help books or are politically motivated.”  (Mark Lilla, cited by Ross Douthat, Bad Religion, p. 177)

So what does this have to do with “signs and wonders?”  Well, if we take another look at Hebrews 2:1-4 (yes, the passage from yesterday), we see that the author of Hebrews places and emphasis on “signs and wonders and various miracles:”

“Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it. 2 For since the message declared by angels proved to be reliable, and every transgression or disobedience received a just retribution, 3 how shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation? It was declared at first by the Lord, and it was attested to us by those who heard, 4 while God also bore witness by signs and wonders and various miracles and by gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to his will.” (Hebrews 2:1-4)

Biblical writers used the phrase “signs and wonders” in several different ways.  It was a term used to describe God’s deliverance of his people from Egypt (Exodus 7:3, 9; 11:9-10), it was used to describe true prophecy (Isaiah 8:18; 20:3), and to describe the works of Jesus (John 20:29-31; Acts 2:19, 22). In his commentary on Hebrews, F.F. Bruce notes that the emphasis the New Testament places on such activities is “impressive in its range.”

But what’s it doing here?  In her commentary on Hebrews, Marie Isaacs helps us understand that such “signs and wonders” “are the means whereby God corroborates the truth of the definitive word spoken through his Son…the verbal testimony of those who originally heard Jesus’ proclamation of the gospel and the Spirit-inspired deeds of his contemporary followers validate the truth of his message.”   In other words, God’s Spirit was active in that climate as God’s way of “proving it.”

No doubt such miraculous signs had an impact on the community.  But if we understand this text correctly, the focus remains on what was “declared at first by the Lord”—a message of “such a great salvation.”  The gospel remained the primary focus.  The “signs and wonders” were a means to a much greater end.

Here is the point.  I know many people who have had tremendous religious experiences.  And I would never wish to rob them of these memories or from this intense joy.  I’m reminded of a fellow grad student who came to know Jesus after “meeting” him in a dream.  But the writer of Hebrews never made these experiences the focal point of his faith or ministry.

And neither should we.

Now mind you, I’m not suggesting our experiences should not be shared.  In fact, there is enormous value in sharing your faith story—what we often call our “testimony.”  But if our story never moves beyond our subjective experience to God’s objective truth, then spiritual outsiders might politely respond by saying: “That’s good for you.”  Only an emphasis on the gospel—the concrete truths of our need for Jesus and God’s power to forgive—can reach into someone’s heart and bring those far from God near to him.

If I were to identify any one significant problem with today’s Christianity, it would be the corrosive nature of spiritual boredom.  So much of contemporary Christianity seems bent on chasing an experience.  For some it might be literal miraculous encounters.  For others it might be chasing the spiritual “high” you felt when you first encountered God.  Is there any wonder why our Christian bookstores are bulging at the seams with the latest (and thereby greatest) books, worship albums, and DVD studies?  Whether we recognize it or not, we’ve put God inside a box: he’s only as real to me as his ability to keep impressing me with his tricks.

What, then, is the solution?  The solution is not to dismiss our experiences—this only stifles us emotionally and runs the risk of ignoring God entirely.  Rather, we must continually learn to connect God’s truth with the larger wealth of human experience—our own, as well as that of others.  Think about this for a second: how did you encounter God?  Maybe it was through a Sunday School lesson, a close friend, maybe even through some miraculous encounter.  But how did you come to understand God?  To encounter God without understanding him is to anchor one’s faith to the unstable moorings of human experience.  But to understand God without encountering personally is to pin him down to a lab table, treating the life-giving Savior as if he were a med-school cadaver.  We need both, you see.  We need knowledge.  We need feelings.  We need men and women of action.  And, as the writer of Hebrews continues to tell us, we find this radical unity by following in the footsteps of Jesus.

Taken from: http://www.ttf.org/news/what-were-reading-stephen-colbert-meets-his-maker

Most of us know Stephen Colbert as the former host of the popular late-night comedy show The Colbert Show—and still more will come to know him this Fall as Letterman’s replacement on CBS’s Late Show.  But only a handful of 7-year-olds know him as their Sunday School teacher.  In a 2009 interview with Rolling Stone magazine, Colbert revealed that he teaches Sunday School at his Catholic church.

Colbert was raised Catholic, but by his own admission he’s “highly variable in [his] devotion:”

“From a doctrinal point of view or a dogmatic point of view or a strictly Catholic adherent point of view, I’m first to say that I talk a good game, but I don’t know how good I am about it in practice. I saw how my mother’s faith was very valuable to her and valuable to my brothers and sisters, and I’m moved by the words of Christ, and I’ll leave it at that.” (Neil Strauss, “Stephen Colbert on Deconstructing the Colbert Nation” in Rolling Stone Magazine, September 2, 2009)

You see, there was a time when Colbert had lost his faith.  In a separate interview, he describes it initially as “a college angst thing,” but when pressed by the interviewer he goes a bit deeper:

 “I had very sad events in my childhood. The death of my father and my brothers was understandably a shattering experience that I hadn’t really dealt with in any way. And there comes a time when you’re psychologically able to do so. I still don’t like talking about it. It still is too fresh.” (Neil Strauss, “The Subversive Joy of Stephen Colbert”)

For many, suffering proves the crucible in which faith is tested.  I use Stephen Colbert as a positive example, in that while he’s gone through a period of questioning his faith, he’s on an upward journey.  We could easily name others—celebrities and otherwise—that aren’t so lucky.

The writer of Hebrews understands this all too well.  Recall that we’ve been examining an early Christian community that experienced enormous pressure from the surrounding culture.  The author of Hebrews intends to encourage his readers to endure, to maintain a clear focus on the gospel even as they were increasingly regarded as social outcasts.  But, as Marie E. Isaacs notes in her commentary, the author’s encouragement is “both carrot and stick.”  Some of his encouragement comes in the form of several “warning” passages, such as the one we’ll look at today:

“Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it. 2 For since the message declared by angels proved to be reliable, and every transgression or disobedience received a just retribution,3 how shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation? It was declared at first by the Lord, and it was attested to us by those who heard, 4 while God also bore witness by signs and wonders and various miracles and by gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to his will.” (Hebrews 2:1-4)

If you read closely, we’ll see hints of the two dangers that dominate the writer’s thinking.  First, we see a clear warning against those who become spiritual burnouts—that is, who “drift away” from “what we have heard” (v. 1).  Second, we see a (subtle) warning against those who become functional atheists—that is, who “neglect such a great salvation” (v. 3) and live life as if God were never present.  These themes reappear in a total of (at least) five distinct warning passages throughout the book (2:1-4; 3:7-4:11; 6:4-8; 10:26-31; 12:14-29)—though we could probably name more depending on our exact interpretation of “warning.”

What point might we make here?  The author understands that the gospel is something that we either cling to or drift from.   What about you?  Would you define yourself as clinging to the gospel, or do you find yourself drifting now and again?

The good news is actually embedded in the very structure of the book—though we have to take a step or two backwards to notice it.  If you look at the larger context here, we see this “warning” embedded in the book’s larger scope of the majesty of Jesus.  Take a look:

HIGHER THAN THE ANGELS (1:5-14)

• The Son of God (1:5-6)
• The King of Israel (1:7-14)

WARNING! (2:1-4)

LOWER THAN THE ANGELS (2:5-18)

• The nature of the incarnation (2:5-9)
• The purpose of the incarnation (2:10-18)

The author is making a broader point about the person of Jesus—the One who steps from heaven’s glory to the sullied streets of humanity.  We’ll address this a bit further next week, but for now do you see how this “warning” serves as something of a “hinge” between these two themes?  It’s as if the author of Hebrews is saying: Keep holding on!  Jesus—though worthy of honor—endured the same shame you’re going through.  Keep going.  Endure. 

Sadly, we can all think of those who slip away far too easily.  The good news is that through God’s grace each of us can find our way home again.  Stephen Colbert had this experience earlier in his life:

“…once I graduated from college, some Gideon literally gave me a box of The New Testament, Psalms and Proverbs on the street in Chicago. I took one and opened it right away to Matthew, Chapter 5, which is the opening of the Sermon on the Mount. That whole chapter is essentially about not worrying. I didn’t read it – it spoke to me, and it was an effortless absorption of the idea. Nothing came to me in a thunderbolt, but I thought to myself, ‘I’d be dumb not to re-examine this.’” (Strauss, “The Subversive Joy…”)

If I sat down with Stephen, I don’t know that he and I would find perfect agreement on Christian doctrine.  Still, we may rejoice at the trajectory he seems to be on, and being “moved by the words of Christ” has often been a first step into a larger world of faith.  It will be interesting to see what influence—if any—this will have on CBS’s future Late Show comedian, but for now we can say simply this: there are many for whom faith is a prolonged journey.  Along its path there are many ups and downs, the ratio of which depends entirely on the person.  But what endures—what we cling to—is the person of Jesus, who stands fast regardless of culture or circumstance.  Wherever you are on your journey, my prayer is that you find joy, find life, find hope in the message of Jesus, whose death and resurrection provide the promise of forgiveness and transformation.