What is Culture?

To understand the culture is to understand the people,
and this means an imaginative understanding.

T.S. Eliot

Culture is notoriously difficult to define. For some, culture represents the artistic tastes of the social elite; opera, art house cinema, or avante-garde art. Others think of culture as more of a political reality and seek to change it through the ballot box. For others culture has more to do with advertising, family, education, or religion. Rather than being an obstacle, this definitional difficulty can actually provide a rich understanding of culture, because culture includes all of these areas and more. Even so, culture is more than merely the sum of all its varied parts. It is a way of life for particular people connected in real, tangible ways. Sociologist Clifford Geertz described culture this way: “man is an animal suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun, I take culture to be those webs.” Culture is the webs of significance and meaning that hold us up. But, as Andy Crouch has shown in Culture Making, culture is more than just the webs, it is also the making and cultivating of goods that form the webs themselves. People and goods and meaning. For this paper, culture will be defined as the way a people make sense of the world as they make something of the world.


Culture Created
In the beginning, there was culture. And it was good.

Genesis begins with a Creator calling the cosmos into existence. Each “let there be” brought forth something new to contribute to the growing complexity of goods. God as Creator was busy connecting this complexity of goods—day and night, sun and moon, plants and animals, water, earth and air—into a gloriously Good place for man to “live and work and have our being.” In other words, God was busy making a culture in which to situate his image bearers. 

When he finished his culture-making through speech, he did something surprising; he stopped his rhythm of “let there be…and it was good,” and got his hands dirty in the dust of his creation. The second chapter of Genesis zooms into the creation story and shows him coming down into it. He reached down and scooped up the soil and, like a master craftsman, worked the clay into the form of a man. After breathing life into the man, God took off his pottery apron and took up his gardening tools: “And the LORD God planted a garden in Eden, in the east, and there he put the man whom he had formed” (Gen 2:8). 

Adam then follows in his maker’s footsteps when he is placed in the garden, “to work it and keep it” (Gen 2:15). God gives the man the work of naming the animals, a naming that continues to follow in the culture-making footsteps of God’s “let there be’s.” Adam begins his life in the pre-fall paradise by making and cultivating goods and meaning. God then makes a woman from the rib of the man and brings her to him, creating a society in the garden, one modeled after the society within the Trinity: “let us make man in our image…So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them” (Gen 1:26-27). Rather than making the woman in the same way as the creation (speaking) or as the man (breathed-on clay), God made her out of the man and walked her “down the aisle” in order to present her back to the man in the culturally significant act of a proto-wedding ceremony. He invited the man to “make meaning” of this monumental event, which he does by making the first poem in history: “This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man” (Gen 2:23). 

God speaks to the newly married man and woman, giving them what was coined by twentieth century Dutch theologian Klaas Schilder as the cultural mandate: “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth” (Gen 1:28). This mandate helps them to understand and transmit meaning (“what am I here for?”) to further generations and it gives them work to do. God’s image bearers are to make and to cultivate. They make more bearers of God’s image in order to fill the earth with his glory, and they are to cultivate the created order, ruling over it as God’s beneficent vice-regents. Before the fall man existed as God’s representatives living within and making culture to his glory. 


Culture Degraded
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.
William Butler Yeats

God’s command to Adam, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die” (Gen 2:16-17), was a command to trust him and an invitation to make meaning. The trees were a delight to the eyes and good for food (Gen 3:6) and were squarely in the midst of their garden home (Gen 2:9). Adam and Eve could not escape them, perhaps even resting under their shade as they seem to be doing when the crafty serpent comes to tempt them. These trees situate them within a story and invite them to make meaning: “Why did God put them here if we must not eat their good fruit?” “Why did he make their fruit look so good?” “What is special about these two trees?” Adam was meant to tell the story of God’s warning to Eve. They were meant to direct their story-telling and meaning-making toward trusting God, even when it was most difficult. 

The fall was not just the tragic decision of two individual creatures, it was a cultural failure. They fell because they cut the webs of meaning that held them up. They wanted to “be like God” (Gen 3:5), forgetting their story; they were already made in God’s image and tasked with ruling as God’s representatives. But God did not scrap his project, nor did he fundamentally alter their cultural mandate. Man would still be tasked with making and cultivating goods and meaning in the context of a relational society in the created order. 

After they made leaf underwear to cover their newly discovered shame—itself a cultural activity—God cursed their work. The pleasure of making of image-bearers would now come with the sting of multiplied pain. Their harmonious society would now be riddled with the desire to rule over each other. Their work would no longer be in the rich Edenic soil, but in the thorns and thistles of the fields. Yet, even in the terrible curse there is cultural hope. God gives their story a redemptive twist and invites them to make meaning when he curses the serpent: “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head and you shall bruise his heel” (Gen 3:15). God then comes back into his creation and gets his hands dirty again, as he did in the making of man, creating leather garments for them (Gen 3:21), an act that produced goods—stronger protection against the thorns and thistles—and meaning—an innocent animal shed its blood so that God could cover the shame of his children. In their garden betrayal, man rebelled at the awful cost of severing their relationship with their maker and bending and twisting their nature, degrading and making more difficult their mandate to make culture.

In the midst of the post-fall world degraded by the effects of sin there is another beacon of cultural hope, something that has been called by theologians over the ages common grace. Common grace is common because it is belongs to all people in all cultures and times. It is grace because it is a gift from God. God has gifted all humanity air in the lungs and blood in the body. The image of God in man, tarred though it may be, was not lost in man. 

Common grace in the fallen world can be traced back to God’s response to the first betrayal. Though they were warned that “in the day you eat of it you shall surely die,” Adam and Even did not die! It is true enough that a spiritual death occurred, as evidenced by their naked shame and hiding from God, but we have no reason to think they understood God’s warning in those terms. They ate and God graced. There would indeed be death that day, but it was to be a spotless animal in their place. Common grace was evident even in their banishment from Eden: “‘Behold, the man has become like one of us in knowing good and evil. Now, lest he reach out his hand and take also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever—‘therefore the LORD God sent him out from the garden of Eden to work the ground from which he was taken” (Gen 3:23). They did not deserve to be saved from the terrible prospect of eternal slavery to sin, yet God gifted them with a “normal” life and an eventual escape from their sin-poisoned world. God graced them with children. When one of their children murdered his younger brother, God graced him with a mark of protection (Gen 4:15), because he was still a bearer of the Image, and as such he would always live under the common grace of his maker. 

As the story progresses, it becomes clear that his image bearers move off in two directions—one (the line of Seth) honoring God and remembering their story, and the other (the line of the wicked, grace-marked Cain) honoring themselves and forgetting their story. Common grace is strikingly clear in the story of the line of Cain. Though they did not honor God, his descendants were skilled city-builders, shepherds, musicians and blacksmiths (Gen 4:17-22). All of this culture making was accomplished by men and women who woke up each morning under the same sun as the line of Seth with the common grace of inventive minds and able bodies. It turns out that grace, like rain, falls on the just and unjust alike (Mt 5:45). 


Culture Restored
Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising.
Isaiah 60:3

God’s people were always meant to be a culture within a culture. God chose them, though small in number (Deut 7:7), to represent his kingdom to the surrounding kingdoms. He gave them their own laws and worship practices in order to draw their hearts toward him and to set them apart as a distinctively good society. When his people failed he did not destroy them as they deserved. He restored them. Even when he drove them into exile and scattered them among foreign lands, he preserved them and promised them deliverance. He brought a remnant of them back to Jerusalem, during the time of Ezra and Nehemiah, and allowed them to rebuild their temple. Throughout their rough history he continued to speak promises to them through the prophets. He promised that he would send the true King to rule them peaceably. He promised a future good life together—a life where they would work fertile soil and eat and drink together under the promised King. 

God’s promises were not culture-less promises to individuals. Cultures and peoples will be redeemed. Swords will not be burned up, but hammered (presumably by skilled blacksmiths) into gardening tools. Feasts will not cease to exist, but will be celebrated with gladness and shared memories. God spoke these promises over and over again to his people, until the prophets’ mouths were closed for hundreds of years. Into this expectant silence, in a non-descript stable in Bethlehem, a child was born. 

God’s very son in the flesh. The promised King came into a uniquely first century Galileean culture. He lived in a family, wore clothes, ate regional cuisine, attended synagogue and worked as a carpenter. He who stands above every culture became en-cultured. He came into the culture that He created, not only to restore our relationship with God, but to restore a culture that was meant to display the kingdom of God on earth. He gathered his twelve disciples—a number representative of the twelve tribes of Israel—and taught them and others about life in the Kingdom. While he lived among them he represented the culture of the kingdom; one that both transcends and includes the best parts of the many varied cultures of his image bearers. His kingdom is a multi-cultural kaleidoscope of colors and flavors that are characterized by unity and diversity, servanthood, peace, hope and love. 

God’s son was given the name Jesus by his earthly parents under the direction of God’s messenger. The name itself—a combination of Yahweh + saves— is an invitation in making meaning. This child will be the one to receive the throne of David and his reign will be unending (Lk 1:30-33). He fulfilled this promise by fulfilling the righteous requirements of the law of the kingdom and dying to bear the shame and punishment due his enemies. He then rose victorious over death and the bent kingdom of the serpent. Before he ascended to heaven, he commissioned his followers: “All authority in heaven and earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Mt 28:18-20). Luke records another, related commissioning: “…you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:8). Hints of the cultural mandate echo through these commissionings. His followers were to make image-bearers, filling the earth with the glory of God. They were to make a new culture by inviting others into the story of God, a story that provided “webs” of meaning to make sense of life in this world. Rather than replacing the cultural mandate, Jesus gave his followers orders for how they were to continue their work. In fact, very few of his followers quit their jobs or left their homes to pursue vocational mission work. Centurions remained centurions, tent makers remained tent makers, families remained families, yet their life gained new focus and meaning as they lived with a new purpose to be his witnesses to all people. Jesus had not called them out of culture, but had given them a new culture with new webs of meaning and significance within the surrounding culture. 


Culture Consummated
I have come home at last! This is my real country!...This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it til now…come further up, come further in!
C.S. Lewis 

His followers quickly learned that even a redeemed culture had its problems. Generosity was not shared by all (Acts 5:1-12), old racial and cultural prejudices sometimes remained (Acts 6:1; Gal 2:11-12), and even missionary friends argued and split ways (Acts 15:36-40). The painful reality is that the kingdom, though it has been inaugurated in and by Jesus, still awaits its consummation at the fullness of time. The gospel tells us that, contra Yeats, the center (Christ) can hold. But things still fall apart. 

The putting back together of all things at the consummation of the kingdom will not be, as is often taught, a total destruction of the physical and cultural world. Heaven will not be a bloodless, ethereal world of clouds and harps and chubby baby-angels. The scriptures tell a different story—the story of a people who lost a garden but will gain a city: “And he…showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God, having the glory of God, its radiance like a most rare jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal. It had a great, high wall, with twelve gates…” (Rev 21:10-12). The city will look both like and unlike the great cities within our earthly cultures. There will be walls and gates and roads and artwork and a river running through a great park. Yet, it will be so radiant with God’s glory that it will have no need of street lights or the moon or even the sun. And God will be so present with his people that they will have no need for a temple or church. The gates will never need to close because there will be no danger or darkness. In the place of dangerous marauders, distinctive people groups and civic leaders will pour in through the gates and bring their gifts and glory to give to God and to beautify his new city. 

The story moves from the garden to the city, but it also moves ciruitously from the tree of life lost to the tree of life gained: “Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations” (Rev 22:1-2). In addition to the startling reality that there will be time in the new creation (months), we learn that the nations, rather than being destroyed or flattened, will be healed by the leaves of the tree! The nations, with their diverse cultural contributions, will live and worship together in a rich harmony: “After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’” (Rev 7:9-10). Sopranos, altos, tenors, and bass’, wearing and bearing cultural goods, will contribute their uniqueness to the song of praise.


Culture Engaged
Fear is not a Christian habit of the mind.
Marilynn Robinson

As members of a culture within the cultures Christians have a difficult task. We live in the time between the times, what has been called the “already, not yet” of the kingdom. As we await the new city and the consummation of the kingdom, what do we do? When we recognize that culture is the way people make sense of the world as they make something of the world, we also recognize that there is no escaping cultural engagement. Though much can and has been said about the way in which Christians ought to engage culture, for the sake of simplicity we will look at four actions that every Christian can do in whatever cultural setting they find themselves in.

Wait. The scriptures end with hopeful waiting: “He who testifies to these things says, Surely I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen” (Rev 22:20-21). Followers of the “Lord Jesus” must not put kingdom hopes in political leaders or “Christian” athletes and pop stars. We await the return of the true king. We have hope for the world around us but our expectations must be chastened. We will not be the ones to build the city. It is not, in the end, ours to build. The city will descend and the kingdom is received as a gift (Heb 12:28). We are to cultivate what James K.A. Smith, in Awaiting the King, describes as a “posture of uplift, tethered by hope to a coming king.” 

Pray. Jesus taught his followers to pray: “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Mt 6:10). This prayer has a forked aim, one side longer and less direct than the other. The long aim is that our prayers would help usher in the promised kingdom in all its power and glory. We pray for the heavenly city to descend and the king to wipe away our tears and the wedding banquet to begin. When we do not know what to do or how to make a difference in the world, prayer is the one activity always available to us, and it is good that the followers of king Jesus would pray for the consummation of the kingdom. 

However, the scriptural record and historical evidence often leads God’s people to despair and hopelessness. This is where the shorter and more direct aim of prayer can be helpful in cultural engagement. This aim is for the kingdom outposts of local churches to grow into communities that represent the culture of the kingdom here and now. These communities are filled with people who gather in to worship bringing their unique cultures of their neighborhoods, families, ethnicities and workplaces. When God’s people pray for his kingdom to come in their church, they are acting as cultural change agents, laboring together with God for his kingdom outposts to shine light into the darkness of the watching world. 

Work. “So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Cor 10:31). Christians, like all other people, are called to work while on this earth. Hard work excellently done reflects something of the image of God and brings him glory. And because God worked to create the cosmos, every legitimate vocation has inner dignity because it follows in the pattern of our maker. When Jesus called together his first followers, they were fishermen and tax-collectors, doctors and tanners. What their vocation was mattered far less than how they worked at it. This means that rather than only missionaries, priests, and company presidents, all Christians engage culture when we work—creating goods and meaning—with the ethics of the kingdom guiding our efforts. As Luther said, “If he is a Christian tailor, he will say: I make these clothes because God has bidden me do so, so that I can earn a living, so that I can help and serve my neighbor.”

Rest. God is on the move, growing Christians into the culture of the kingdom, so we will be ready to receive it when it comes in full. We need not feel the pressure to create the perfect society on earth, or to build the kingdom now. We need not claw our way upstream of culture or worry overmuch when our famous “Christian” political leaders and pop stars fall short or fail morally. We represent a culture that is coming. 

Jesus, at the outset of his most famous sermon, said, “You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored?...You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden” (Mt 5:13-14). Salt and light are qualities that cannot be gained, they just are. They are given by their maker. Jesus is king over every square inch and in his sovereign wisdom has placed every single one of his followers squarely in the midst of whatever cultures we find ourselves in. We are to season and preserve like salt; adding the flavor of the kingdom into the families, work places, schools and political realities we find ourselves situated within. As we season and preserve, our faithfulness to the hidden kingdom of Christ is to shine like a city on a hill—illuminating the path and captivating the hearts of the weary travelers wandering in the dark streets of the fallen world. 

Rest, because the king is on the throne and he wants to use your faithfulness exactly where you are. Work, not as an excuse to evangelize or as a means to build the kingdom on earth, but excellently and to the glory of God. Pray for the kingdom to come in the culture of the church now, and in the surrounding world on the day of the return of the king. And keep waiting hopefully: “Behold, he is coming with the clouds” (Rev 1:7).

Reflections on The Institutes: Out of the Labyrinth

Written by Michael Worrall

In chapter 5 of his Institutes of the Christian Religion, John Calvin is pointing out that God makes himself known to mankind through both fashioning and governing the universe. After ten paragraphs detailing how God’s wisdom, creativity, sovereignty, and judgment are revealed in his sustained creation, Calvin pivots to show how despite all of this mankind still wanders away into confusion and fails to worship God. He says, “For each man’s mind is like a labyrinth, so that it is no wonder that individual nations were drawn aside into various falsehoods; and not only this - but individual men, almost, had their own gods.”

The problem, Calvin says, is not that God has failed to reveal himself, but that our minds are labyrinths filled with twists and turns and dead-ends. Our thoughts, which ought to be stayed on God, can’t escape our own heads. He concludes that this trapped, rattling mental life doesn’t just lead individual men and women into falsehood and confusion, but entire nations. Calvin isn’t surprised that individual confusion and falsehood has corporate consequences, he assumes it! 

This is fascinating to me in our cultural moment where systemic sin is being debated. Why is it so hard for us to believe that our nation is still staggering from the drunkenness of slavery and segregation? Why is it so hard for us to believe that our businesses, communities, courts, and churches have been “drawn aside into various falsehoods” like arrogance, greed and injustice? It seems corporate and systemic sin (at least idolatry) aren’t up for debate in Calvin’s mind. If individual men are confused in their own minds “it is no wonder” that the nations, communities, and organizations they make up will be led into similar confusion and falsehood. 

Fortunately, God doesn’t leave us lost in the maze of our minds, wandering forever into confusion. “We must come,” Calvin says, “to the Word, where God is truly and vividly described to us from his works...If we turn aside from the Word, as I have just now said, though we may strive with strenuous haste, yet, since we have got off track, we shall never reach the goal. For...the divine countenance... is for us like an inexplicable labyrinth unless we are conducted into it by the thread of the Word; so that it is better to limp along this path than to dash with all speed outside it.”

The way out of our falsehood and into intimate knowledge of God is to be “conducted into [God’s presence] by the thread of the Word.” There we see God “truly and vividly described to us from his works.” Perhaps we have been “[striving] with strenuous haste” on the tracks of progress, status, and self-righteousness when what is needed is to stop, backtrack, and “limp along” the way of Jesus in confession, repentance, and neighborly love.

Quarantine Corner: Curated content for life on lockdown - Week 9

Written by Michael Worrall

Stories have great power to shape the way we think, feel, and imagine. They place us in circumstances in which we may never find ourselves otherwise. They play out the effects of decisions that we may never have to face. 

Saving Private Ryan made me imagine the horrors of war.
Blood Diamond showed me the relentless love of a father.
Whiplash warned me of the dangers of boundless ambition
Lion moved me with the sorrow of relational loss & the joys of reunion. 

Those are only the movies that came to mind. There are many more stories that have formed my imagination. In her book On Reading Well, Karen Swallow Prior says, “The stories in which we are immersed project onto our imaginations visions of the good life—as well as the means of obtaining it. We must imagine what virtue looks like in order to act virtuously.”

What stories are you immersed in? 
What vision of the good life do they project?
How are they helping you imagine virtue and vice?

Here is week 9 of Quarantine Corner:

Listen: Liz Vice 

Liz Vice makes music that fits somewhere between Gospel, R&B, and Soul. She has a voice that is effortlessly strong and a knack for writing thoughtful lyrics over catchy melodies. I would give a few noteworthy songs to start with but, truthfully, you can’t go wrong. 

Read: George Floyd and Me” by Shai Linne

In this article, Shai honestly and vulnerably answers an email he received from a white sister in Christ after George Floyd’s death. Shai allows the reader into his thoughts, emotions, pains, fears, and hopes. In the process, he opens the door for readers to understand and respond in compassion and empathy. I would urge you not to miss the open door, but to enter in and listen.

Watch: Knives Out (Amazon Prime)

Knives Out is a twisted and whimsical “whodunnit” that will draw you in as you try to put the pieces together. Along the way it vividly reveals the corrosive effects of greed and self-interest.

Bonus Listen: Jude 3 Project podcast

The Jude 3 Project exists to help the Christian community know what they believe and why they believe it. Podcast host and Jude 3 Project founder, Lisa Fields, interviews guests on a wide range of topics such as: leadership, friendship, mental health, apologetics, and many more. Find a topic that sounds interesting or just pick an episode and jump in!

Why I still read the Bible

Written by Rhys Bezzant

I have been a Christian for over forty years, and I still read the Bible. Sometimes with more spiritual focus, and sometimes with less. I hate it when my Bible reading is rushed, but that does happen at least a few times a week. My Bible reading might be directed towards a sermon I am preparing in a few weeks’ time, but equally I might be reading a book of the Bible because it has been a long time since I last made my temporary home there. The passage might be long and meandering, or alternatively short and sharp. I normally spend time reading before I focus on praying, but I know that I could organise my devotional time the other way around. Old habits die hard! There is however one devotional habit that I have reshaped. I used to follow the ACTS principle: first adoration, then confession, then thanksgiving, then supplication. But I have realised that the psalms don’t necessarily follow this pattern, so I feel free to begin my time of prayer with whatever prayer posture suits the day, or even suits the reading. The Bible can set the agenda for my prayers and suggest how I go about them on that particular day to keep my praying fresh. However I don’t read the Bible just as an overture to my prayers. Reading the Bible does a whole lot more than that.

Reading the Bible in a time of quiet is not a warm-up exercise, but is rather a whole body workout in itself. Reading the Bible is not merely an occasion to engage with rational content but is a more spiritually demanding apparatus. For I want to encourage every Christian to persevere in engaging with the Scriptures attentively because they consist of words not pictures. And words are magnificent things! We are prone to think that the purpose of words is to transmit information – which they do – but they do so much more. Words convey emotion and hit the heart. Words address our will and demand our obedience. Well-chosen words lift us beyond the everyday and motivate us to look to the reality we inhabit and to look up to the one who guides history. Words reveal the soul of the speaker, and when we know the soul of our friends we grow in confidence to hold fast to their promises. Words are carried through the air with the breath of the one who whispers, so words are the framework for relationships. Of course I am not so naïve as to think that words can’t damage people. I have been on the receiving end of harsh words. And words may reveal a duplicitous heart as well as reveal one that is true. Words in the last hundred years have been used disastrously for propaganda and advertising, both devaluing their currency. But God has chosen words to be the primary vehicle for his promises, presence, and purpose, and has made himself most clearly known in the Word made flesh, the Lord Jesus Christ. Even today, the Son holds all things in this cosmos together through his powerful word (Heb 1:3).

 So when I come to read the Bible, I discover that God addresses every part of me, and in doing so makes me whole again. There is never a time when we should consider giving up reading the Bible, because there is never a time when we don’t need to be remade in the image of Christ.

In fact, I can do better than just accidentally find myself reading the Bible. I need to run towards the Lord who will address me in his Word. And when I turn towards him, I am making a decision, and surrendering my body, and yearning with my heart, and expecting with my mind to learn Christ again, as Paul describes Christian discipleship in Ephesians 4:20. When I come to grasp that God’s words will engage with every part of my life, I should bring every part of my life to him, so running is a great metaphor. The whole point of fearing the Lord is weirdly not to run away from him as the word fear might suggest, but to run towards him. To fear the Lord is to run to the Lord! To fear him means to put myself in the position of a learner, as the first few chapters of the book of Proverbs picture. There may be days in the week when I find myself physically running out of the door because I am late for work, but that shouldn’t exhaust the opportunities I take for spiritual running, eagerly coming back to the Lord in his Word even when that happens not to be first thing in the morning. And this is true when I am feeling like I have let the Lord down again. In fact, the best thing to do when you are conscious of your sin is not to hide your face from the Lord but to seek his face, pursuing him to grasp hold of cleansing and forgiveness in order to sate your hunger. We must keep close accounts with the Lord, and regularly practise eating his flesh and drinking his blood (John 6:54). He is better than the manna from heaven, satisfying us daily if only we would take up his life-giving word. Where else can we go, asks Peter, to find the words of eternal life?

So what is the best posture for prayer? Kneeling? Pencil in hand? Devotions at the break of day? Actually it is running with all that you are to allow God to address all that you bring. The posture is spiritual and only secondarily physical. The pattern and the rhythm of a devotional life have been for me of enormous help in times of darkness and despair, but these are external helps at best. Celebrating the life of the Spirit within is something altogether more substantial.

In which case, we need to work out what is the best way to read the Bible today, because that might look a little different from yesterday. Of course, it is likely to be the same physical book or device as yesterday. But that doesn’t mean that how I spend my time is the same. Yesterday I read a passage quickly from end to end, to see if God gives any reasons why Jeremiah has to buy a field during a siege (Jeremiah 32). But today I wanted to work out how Jeremiah understands his own personal relationship with the Lord in the same chapter when he prays. And tomorrow, I might just take up God’s response to Jeremiah, in the words “Is anything too hard for me?” and repeat it over and over in my mind to taste and see that the Lord is good indeed. I might even visualise myself in the storyline and imagine what I would do if one prophet was telling me to stay in Jerusalem, and another – namely Jeremiah – was advocating giving up and going with Nebuchadnezzar to Babylon. The tension between the prophets has been bubbling up throughout the book, but the choice to stay or to go represents the clash of the prophetic titans. Which side will I be on? What does that mean for my sacrificial discipleship today? Perhaps, I will ask, what should I do in this time of covid to help me look beyond the immediate crisis and yearn hopefully for the future, though I suspect it won’t be to buy a field. There aren’t too many of them in the inner suburbs of Melbourne. 

I can read the Bible slowly to capture its emotion, or I could read it quickly to get an overview of a story. I can allow the Scriptures to speak to a decision I have to make today, or to address a talk I have to give tomorrow. The Bible is wonderful in the variety of literary genres it contains, and it never ceases to surprise me that a passage I have known well can speak to me in fresh ways through the Spirit’s prompting. There are seasons to read a prophet’s warnings, seasons to travel with Jesus on the road to Jerusalem, and even seasons when the book of Revelation can bring spiritual comfort as well as intellectual challenge. I am still reading the Bible. Not always because I want to. But always because the Lord serves my soul when I do.

Reflections on The Institutes: Calvin’s Memento Mori

Written by Jesse Furey

Innumerable are the evils that beset human life; innumerable, too, the deaths that threaten it. We need not go beyond ourselves: since our body is the receptacle of a thousand diseases—in fact holds within itself and fosters the causes of diseases—a man cannot go about unburdened by many forms of his own destruction, and without drawing out a life enveloped, as it were, with death.”  Book I, ch. 17, 10

John Calvin, the 16th century French Reformer, began his career as a budding academic by publishing a substantial commentary on Seneca’s De Clementia. Seneca was a first century Roman philosopher who was one of the most influential figures of the Stoic school of philosophy. The Stoics taught that the way to experience the good life (eudaimonia) was through accepting reality without being controlled by fear or pleasure, and through the patient cultivation of virtue. Even in popular culture, to be “stoic” is understood as an unusual coolness in the face of either pressure or pleasure. 

One way the Stoics promoted the acceptance of the circumstances of life and the cultivation of virtue in the midst of those circumstances was through the Memento Mori. Memento Mori is, literally, Death Reminder. The earliest practice of Memento Mori is believed to be an ancient Roman tradition—a victorious general returning from battle and parading before the cheering crowds would have a servant whispering to him, “look behind you, remember you are just a man, and remember you will die!” Whether it was the whispers of an aide, or skeletons in festivals, or a skull on your desk (the skull is the most familiar to us moderns—even occupying a central place in Marvel’s The Punisher character, though it is not clear whether his memento mori is for himself or others), for the Stoics, Memento Mori was a way of life. 

Seneca himself said, “Let us prepare our minds as if we’d come to the very end of life. Let us postpone nothing. Let us balance life’s books each day. … The one who puts the finishing touches on their life each day is never short of time.” This way of thinking is alien to most of us moderns. We have, for the most part, imbibed the enlightenment vision of everlasting life. The scientists (an honorable vocation, but one that has become our new white-robed priests) will figure it out and the machine will fix it and we will live forever, even if we have to colonize Mars to do it. Of course, this utopian vision crumbles in the midst of a global pandemic that shows no respect to our vision and no signs of ending anytime soon. We need a better approach to life. We need to recover the Memento Mori. 

Reading the Institutes, it is not hard to see the influence Seneca and the Stoics had on Calvin’s theology. Yet, they depart here. For the Stoics the key to life was balancing the books as if today was your last day alive. Calvin also highlights that our life is “enveloped...with death.” But the good life isn’t found in the impossible and exhausting work of balancing the books. Instead, Calvin’s Memento Mori turns our attention on the Providence of God. When our certain death joins with our joyous trust in God’s providence—this is the good life. 

Of course, we could take it one step further—to the hill of the Skull itself (Golgotha is Aramaic for “Skull”). The hill of Calvary and the cross of Christ is the most powerful Memento Mori there is. Providence and Death joined together in the broken body of the Eternal One, who would rise again to new and eternal life on the third day. This is why we carry the cross before us—a reminder of a death not ours. For Christ-followers, the cross is our reminder to live in reality because we will, in fact, die, but death has already lost its sting for us.