Encountering the Monster That I Am

http://peterrollins.net/?p=2988

by Peter Rollins

posted August 9, 2011

At various times I have discussed the idea of encountering our own monstrosity through an encounter with the other. Recently someone asked me to give a concrete example to help her understand what I meant. I wanted to offer something rather mundane, something that would not expose me too much. But I could not deny that one situation overshadowed all the others. It was something that happened when I was in my early twenties. An event that I am, understandably, very embarrassed about.

One evening I was with a group of dear friends in a dingy bar in Belfast. As usual our conversations jumped around from the sublime to the ridiculous. I can’t remember now what the conversations were, but I do remember one point where someone said “that is so gay” to a comment from one of those in the group. This comment was then repeated a number of times at various points in the evening, probably even by me, although I don’t recall (no doubt because I don’t want to).

A few days later I happened to be out with one of the people who was part of that group. We were just catching up and having small talk when he stopped mid sentence, looked right at me, and said, “Pete, I am gay, can you imagine how I must have felt when everyone started using the term ‘Gay’ to describe what they thought was unmanly and embarrassing the other night.”

At that moment I was undone. I wanted to defend myself by pointing out my disgust with homophobia, by telling him that I would never align myself with anyone who had an issue with same sex relationships and that I think those who would misuse a pseudo philosophy, psychology or theology to justify their inherent prejudices ought to be exposed in their game of rationalisation. Yet I could not in all honesty do it. Instead I was brought to silence. I saw myself through the eyes of my friend, and I could not believe what I saw. I saw a monster.

It was only because I was given grace and understanding in that moment that I was able to face myself. This was a moment of crisis in that it was a moment in which I had to choose whether to defend myself or acknowledge the truth of what had been presented to me, horrible though it was.

So often we avoid confronting our own monstrosity by covering it over and avoiding anyone who might expose it. But it is the other who so often holds the key to our development. Not by presenting us with some new information, but rather by presenting us with something we already are, something we refuse to acknowledge.

John Stott - Authenticity Overcomes Controversy

http://kylearoberts.com/wordpress/?p=487

by Kyle Roberts

August 2, 2011

In the days following John Stott’s death, I have read numerous reflections and eulogies on his life, writings, and impact on evangelicalism and Christianity. He has been held up by the NY Times Nicholas Kristoff as a foil to the “blowhards” and has been honored by several Gospel Coalition voices as a defender of the centrality of Christ and the penal substitutionary understanding of the atonement. He dialogued with liberal mainline theologians and spoke regularly at conservative evangelical institutions, such as Wheaton College. During a chapel Q&A session at Wheaton, Stott responded to a student who asked him about his controversial annihilationist position, a notion that the unredeemed wicked will cease to exist after the general resurrection (they will be “burned up” in the flame of judgment). Stott’s modeled in his answer both a quest for the truth as well as a reverence for the authority of Scripture.

I have sometimes wondered, incidentally, why it is that annihilationism seems to be less threatening to conservative evangelicals than hopeful, inclusivistic universalism (the notion that everyone might eventually be saved through faith in Jesus)? I suspect, at least in Stott’s case, it has partly to do with his explicit attention to biblical texts in mounting his argument (and, correspondingly, with biblicism, as a high value in evangelical theology). Yet there are “evangelical universalists” today who are also mounting arguments from Scripture (see Gregory McDonald’s The Evangelical Universalist, for a good example).

In that controversial book referred to by that student, Stott wrote,

“Emotionally, I find the concept [of eternal conscious torment] intolerable and do not understand how people can live with it without either cauterizing their feelings or cracking under the strain. But our emotions are a fluctuating, unreliable guide to truth and must not be exalted to the place of supreme authority in determining it . . . my question must be — and is — not what does my heart tell me, but what does God’s word say?”

I suspect that Stott’s consistent reverence for Scripture and his stated desire to be faithful to biblical truth, enabled him to remain in the generally good graces of even the most conservative evangelicals. J.I. Packer, taking on Stott’s annihilationist position decades ago, concluded his essay by saying “it would be wrong for differences of opinion on this matter to lead to breaches of fellowship…”

In that 2003 chapel address I mentioned earlier, Stott answered a student who was looking for advice about evangelizing “post-modern people,” by saying that “I, myself, am persuaded that the major way in which the gospel can be presented to a post-modern age is not by anything we say but how we live. There needs to be in us Christian people an authenticity which cannot be denied, so there is no dichotomy between what we say and what we are…there must be no dichotomy between what we are in private and in public. What we say. What we are. That is authenticity. People have to see Christ in us and not just hear what we talk about.”

The admiration in these days expressed for the ministry and life of John Stott, despite an eschatological position that runs against the mainstream of conservative evangelical theology, can perhaps best be explained by the fact that he seemed to follow his own advice.

Authenticity can overcome controversy.

(for more reflections and a link to his 2003 talk, see this essay by David Malone)