I AM: The Language of Christianity, Part 2

Exodus 3:14-- God said to Moses, "I AM who I AM. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: 'I AM has sent me to you.'"

Wow, what a powerful passage that speaks to the depths of who we are in Christ and the nature of God.

Last week we talked about the language of Christianity and how we refer to others. Our conversation often creates a polarizing "us" verses "them" relationship with those we deem different from us, even though God has proclaimed "them" to be quite the same. This mindset becomes a problem not only because it's hurtful, but also because, on a much deeper, theological level, it undermines the truth of God we say we're standing upon.

The postmodernist movement insists (and that word is ironic, isn't it, considering the movement's rejection of truth) that there is no such thing as absolute truth. There is no such thing as God or reliable morality, really, outside of the ever-shifting perspective of the people in this world. That might sound convenient for avoiding hurting people's feelings, but the reality is, this is very scary. And not just from a Christian perspective. It's scary when you need solid footing for any kind of moral or humanitarian or environmental claim. It's scary if you're a woman in an abusive marriage, if you're a slave to human trafficking, if you're Buddist under the threat of terrorist bombings, or if you're just a Pit Bull, forced every day into dog fighting.

Postmodernism might seem convenient, but the rejection of truth ultimately breaks down any kind of compassionate cause. After all, who are we to insist what is right, what is moral for another person, another country, another society? Either we are extremely egotistical to assert our own feeble notions of the world over everyone else, or we simply let these situations be and do nothing. Because, like it or not, outside of God, you have no ground to make any kind of humanitarian claim. Yes, you can certainly be moral. But it's always a shifting ground. What is socially acceptable one minute may be rejected the next. Hello, Hunger Games.

Therein, we run into a problem: Where do we locate the source of morality? From what source do we arm ourselves with the tools needed to fight against the evils of the world? Rhetoric and conversation? That's always changing. Our own consciences? But what of the discrepancies?

Ultimately, the only satisfying answer to what it means to be human and to preserve human dignity is a theological one. Perhaps not necessarily Christian (which is where faith comes in), but theological, nonetheless. Without absolute truth, we have nothing when it comes to true compassion. Nothing but hearts that are breaking over the state of the world--of the hurting--with no reason why.

There is a reason why.

There is a reason why you were born, why you have lived, why you are living. 


There is something you can do to change the world. Right where you are.

When Moses asks God to identify himself, wondering how he will ever explain this sudden appearance of the pure presence of the Almighty to the Israelites, how does God answer? How could He? What phrase or name or definition or description could He possibly give that would help Moses understand the fullness of His presence?

The answer? I AM.

This verse has always bothered me. I felt like God was using a cop-out, honestly. I wanted more detailed answers. I wanted more explanation. But as I began to study postmodernist thought, I began to understand. God's answer to Moses was the most powerful thing.

Often, because we live in a postmodern moment, we make the assumption that everything we know exists as the opposite of something else. Some examples (and I used a few of these last week) are hot versus cold, dark verses light, ugly versus pretty, Christian verses sinner, gay verses straight, male verses female, liberal verses conservative, and the list goes on and on...

This kind of thinking has leaked into popular Christian teaching. We consistently hear Biblical (and unBiblical, for that matter) concepts crafted as negatives, rather than a positive motivation toward which we should be striving. What if we changed our way of thinking to how we might love God more, rather than worrying over boundaries? What if instead of fearing the law, we feared the One who overcame it?

Do not have sex before you're married.
Do not commit adultery.
Do not gossip.
Do not steal, or cheat.
Do not watch or read anything compromising.


But what about...

Wait patiently and honor God, your spouse, and yourself. Live a life of purity.
Be faithful to the vows you have made.
Encourage one another as God has encouraged you.
In everything, live your life as unto the One who gave life to you.
Fill your mind with good things, for out of your heart comes your very being.


The problem here is that we begin to believe evil actually has some power over our lives and our identities. We believe the lie that our faith is just another thing that exists within a binary, but in this case, it's good versus evil. Even if "good" comes out on top of the equation, we still have a problem. A big one. Within this structure lies the assumption that evil has a pure presence that can in some way compete with God, with holiness. But this perspective is inconsistent with Biblical Christianity. Remember the verse from Exodus?

God is. He is pure presence. He is truth. He is living.

Evil is not.

There is truth, and there is the perversion of truth. There is no such entity as non-truth.

Next Wednesday, I'll get into more specifics about how this concept can shape the way we think about God-- and ourselves-- on a more personal, practical level. So be sure to come back for the next part of the series.

Have you ever caught yourself thinking in this good versus evil mentality? How can this be harmful?

Now, Faith...

I have a sensitive heart.

I worry about dogs wandering the side of the road, butterflies in traffic, and kids who seem sad.

I carry these things with me--all the time--until, after a while, they get heavier, and heavier, and I break down. I give them to God, and I lay them down. And then when I'm feeling strong enough, suddenly I find myself in a new day, picking up new burdens like little packages that need my care. And I start to worry more and more that if I don't tend to them, no one else will care.

This is a problem in my life.

This might be my biggest struggle against God.

I have a hard time letting go because I care so much. Recently, a mockingbird made a nest in our maple tree, and I started using leashes when I took the dogs outside because I was just sure they were going to get the birds. I fretted and fretted and prayed and prayed and prayed, and one day I went out there and found the nest on the ground. This was very upsetting to me. Just three mockingbird eggs, but they had life. And I feel this ever-present responsibility to care for life.

Have you been there? Maybe your circumstances are different, but do you pick up little burdens throughout your days and hold on to them as if they won't inevitably bring you down? As if they somehow need your care to be okay?

God has been teaching me two things lately. Letting go, and that little acts of faith matter. Let me explain.

What is faith if we cannot, at the end of it all, simply let go to God? 

Many times, when we feel this urge to tend to things, it comes from a good heart. I am passionate about creation and want to care for it the best I can. Praying about these things is good. Praying as a vehicle for control is not. There's this fine line where we step back and realize that our attempts to please God are nothing and that He simply wants us. Not that we shouldn't bring our concerns, our hearts to God, but rather, if we pick them right back up afterwards, what good has it done?

And then the other thing--how little acts of faith matter. I don't know about you, but I live under this constant feeling of not being good enough. I don't know where this came from. I was never in an environment that perpetuated this tendency, so the only conclusion I can draw is that it must've come from somewhere deep within. I am a perfectionist. I like things well-done, but I am rarely satisfied. And so when I am filling my figurative backpack with all these heavy rocks, they begin to weigh on me. I inevitably try to tackle the problems myself, all at once. And I always, always fail. Oh, it may look like a great success to the outside eye. But I know where I could've done better. And this makes me tired.

But is this the life God has called us to? Has He not given us a framework for laying these burdens down, once and for all? Has He not offered us peace instead of the worry that comes when we become overly invested in solving our own problems?

Last night, God led me to Hebrews 11 before bed. Speaking of which--daily quiet times, there's a great example of a situation where I always feel like I'm dropping the ball. Can you relate? I wish I had space to copy the whole chapter here, so instead, I'm going to give this link: http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews+11&version=NIV

"Now faith," it says, "is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for."

The rest of the chapter goes on to outline some of the giants of the faith and all of a sudden, you come to see the Old Testament is this beautiful outline of people who believed God, and it was counted to them as "righteousness." Moses is one of the examples given, and I'm always amazed by that, because really, it would seem Moses lost his faith in God's promise, would it not? But he still gets a shout-out. Which is so encouraging, isn't it, to know our faith doesn't have to be perfect in order for it to count.

I hope you're encouraged today to know God loves you right where you are. And as well all strive to be better, to do things well as we run around throughout the day, may we also remember the reason behind it all.