The question of high school was where our conversation primarily resided, and embedded within it was the classic question of public school versus Christian school (and for my family, we add “versus home school”).  The question exposes a number of intriguing angles, and while I am aware that one ultimate answer to all of them is “it depends on the kid,” that doesn’t erase our need for approaching the question from every angle and making sure we haven’t forgotten anything.

I think my main thought (and perhaps my best thought) is a response to that traditional answer of “It depends on the kid.” I want to amend the question to say, “It depends on your goals for your kid.” Ultimately, our one sentence goal for our children is to raise them so that they would love the Lord their God with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength. I’ve often heard it described as raising them “in the admonition of the Lord.”

School and education, then, are compliments to that and should help us in our goal, even if their primary purpose of building literacy and academic discipline is a tad different than our ultimate goal of our children loving the Lord. As compliments, they should help our ultimate goal, and certainly they must not hinder it. How they help is fairly obvious-one who reads well and understands literature is going to read and study scripture better, and one who is informed and knowledgeable in an array of areas is less likely to accept rot as truth.

But public school is a different situation than a good Christian school, and even in the best cases the public school will not help believers connect the skills learned in school with the faith of the pupil. And, I must insist, 16-year old kids are not going to make those connections easily on their own, if they make them at all. Transferring knowledge is what experts and well-educated people do, and much of what we educators attempt is aiding students to transfer knowledge from one area or situation to another. Unfortunately, the quantity of success we achieve on this at the high school level is not as high as I would like to report.

So, then, what is our goal as parents in sending our children to a particular school? If, when we hear startling stories and statistics about the number of students in public schools who abuse drugs and engage in sexual activity, and the number who believe there is no particular truth to be gained or discovered in the world-if our reaction to such information is to say, “But someone needs to stay and bring the Light of the World into that environment,” we need to admit that and hold it up as our goal.

I would think that if that were the goal for a particular family, then it would follow that the teenager heading into the public school would be a clear and firm disciple of Jesus, living a countercultural existence and speaking strongly about the love of Christ. If that’s how the high school experience plays out for that child, then I can hardly imagine a better scenario. As a teacher in the public school system, I would eagerly anticipate experiencing that student. My concern, however, is that the typical believing student entering the public schools is not as strong in his or her faith as the parents would love to think, and that the student does not actually see his or her purpose in that school as being a strong countercultural, Jesus-loving voice.

If the student is not eagerly accepting that purpose, then perhaps he or she is not ready to be thrown to the wolves. She may not have developed her mind enough yet to be as wise as a serpent, and if she is influenced too greatly by her peers, she may not be as innocent as a dove for long. My heart breaks for that student, because the school may be the toughest testing ground she’ll experience, and she may not have been ready for the test.

Now the job of raising a child in the faith and teaching a child the way he should go falls squarely to the parents, and no matter what choice a family makes for its children’s schooling, the school should not be expected to teach a child the tenets of his faith. One would think, however, that if a teenager is still in training, parents would not want the schooling experience to contradict and potentially undo lessons learned at home.

Regarding public schools, the character of this contradiction is important to note, because it rarely contradicts through explicit teachings. Would it were as easy for parents as inquiring of students what they learned and then correcting any wayward teaching. Instead, the contradiction and unraveling occurs through things like the compartmentalization of faith. Sociologist Christian Smith, whose extremely useful study of teenagers’ religious lives was published in the book, Soul Searching, describes this compartmentalization as a clear element of teenagers’ faith today. The effect can essentially mean that students see faith as an occasional something for parents and church, school as something for parents and teachers, and personal lives as something for peers and siblings. When thinking about the important lessons that parents have hopefully taught their children and how those lessons will hold up in school, one has to wonder about the effect of the morally vacuous public school. That environment can subtly and easily contradict the teachings of faith by relegating them to a separate compartment. The best that environment can provide is an attempt at neutrality, but such neutrality, the results of Smith’s study suggest to me, can erode the teaching provided at home. In the face of that possibility, an educational experience that attempts to intertwine faith and learning seems desirable.

That leads me to revisit the goals we have for our children and how education fits into those goals. If my goal is to raise my child to grow in the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and if in my culture the years under 18 are still years of clear parental training, then I would think one priority would be to make sure my child’s education assists my primary goal. And while literacy is important and academic knowledge is desirable, I am not so sure that the hostile (or at best, vacuous) environment of a public school is a good place for training my Christian soldier.

It’s probably worth noting, after all, that the United States does not train its troops by throwing them onto the battlefield. Perhaps, depending on the goals we have for our children, neither should believers.

My favorite part of the race in general is hearing the NPR stories name all the towns around my old stomping grounds. For example, I was happy to hear that Hillary stopped in Gilford, but disappointed they didn’t give any props to the soccer team or the time we almost broke their record-winning streak by pushing them into OT with a dramatic second half goal (after a long assist from the sweeper on an indirect kick).

But now that I live in the High Plains, I figure it doesn’t really matter what I think, because as soon as I pick someone, he’ll lose in NH (I suppose my “he” reveals at least one candidate I wouldn’t support) and I’ll be disappointed that I don’t get to vote for him in SD. What I don’t like is,

#1,  Guiliani. I’ll be honest, aside from his being opposite of me on every moral issue I care about, I just can’t see supporting a fella who spent as much time as he did running around on his wife. If he couldn’t give two rips about that vow, what’s the one he states to John Roberts going to matter to him? I realize the rate of faithful-marriage-vow US Presidents in our history is probably close to the 15% range, but still . . . I don’t have to like it or support it when it happens brazenly, do I? Anyway, what I also don’t like is

#2, the fact that one of these clowns is going to be President. I don’t invest too much energy in listening to these pompous demographic reverberations (my new title for politicians in general), but I have the distinct feeling that no matter whom we elect, we’re looking at a one-term President.

Linktribution to Alan Jacobs.

The example that really stood out to me was his whole “he stinketh” experience with John 11 (p.61). I know it seems kinda innocent at first read, and I’ve heard many a preacher/teacher do similar stuff with other passages, but what he’s done here is pretty significant I think. He’s essentially taken two words out of their original context/meaning, given them a new context/meaning, and then assumed this is what John 11 is saying to him today.  And so again, my question is, does the “alive-ness” of Scripture give me authority to do this?  I almost get the feeling here that the words of Scripture are kinda magical words that can mean one thing in their original context and then magically (via the use of metaphor) speak something slightly different to me in my present context (perhaps a more “spiritual” meaning as in this example).

Now, to his credit (and to my slight confusion), he mentions just a few pages later that “to take statements made in a letter from one person living in a real place at a moment in history writing to another person living in a real place out of their original context and apply them to today without first understanding their original context sucks the life right out of them.”   This I completely agree with!

And so when I read John 11, I see Jesus Christ demonstrating His power of new creation, proving Himself as the true King in God’s long-expected kingdom.  Or as Martha’s confession in the chapter puts it best, that Jesus “is the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.”  And so yes of course, there is rich application for me here and now.  There is the powerful reminder of the hope of the resurrection.  I learn of freedom from sin’s curse which can be enjoyed even now as I’m united with the King.  I experience a God who is powerfully and compassionately involved in the affairs of His creation and His people.  He shows Himself to me, and I claim His attributes and promises.  And so I guess what I’m saying here is that it’s not that the words are alive in themselves (able to be bent and shaped to specific contexts as I see fit), but rather that they are alive as they communicate to me and speak into my situations the real God who has acted very specifically in history and covenanted Himself to be and act in certain ways.

So its not so much that I live the metaphors (p. 61 – that just seems all to vague and perhaps irresponsible), but rather that I am living the next act in the one, continuing story.  I don’t consider my life circumstances to be a metaphorical battle between David and Goliath as much as I do the next act in the long-developed story of God’s mission to subdue evil; of which David and Goliath was one scene pointing to Christ’s death and resurrection as the inaugurated climax and then continuing down the line in my present role in Christ’s body.

Okay, well not sure if that all made much sense.  I’m struggling to quick jam my thoughts down here.  And let me just say I’m really not trying to be nit picky here with this one example.  My concern actually is for solid orthopraxy (just like Bell).  But again, I look towards solid ortho-doxy to steer my ortho-praxy.  And since I look to Scripture to define ortho-doxy, the right use Scripture is of fundamental concern for me.  And so alive is somewhat of a scary term to me as it could give unintended warrant to someone wishing to bind and loose certain things from the text (i.e. a theology of divorce) for a new, 21st-century community of believers.

I’ll start by first of all saying that I don’t see any evidence (either in Scripture or the dictionaries he references or old Jewish sources) to support the idea that binding and loosing implies the giving of authority “to make new interpretations of the Bible” (emphasis his). If we look at binding and loosing in the context of Matt. 18:18, we would understand it to be authority to confront someone in their sin (which, by the way, is essentially how the Dictionary of Biblical Imagery understands the terms as they appear both there and in Matt. 16:19 in conjunction with the keys to the kingdom). It seems to me that everywhere binding and loosing imagery is used in the NT (esp in Matthew), it is most often in reference to the spiritual/physical condition of an individual (12:29, 22:13; Rev. 20, etc). I suppose we could say that the apostles were given authority to interpret Scripture as it related to preserving the purity of the kingdom and confronting indwelling sin, but its a substantial leap to then say that passage grants any community of believers authority to make new interpretations of the Bible. There’s more discussion to be had there perhaps, but suffice it to say I don’t think his argument in this chapter can find support in the binding/loosing imagery in Matthew. I think he’s significantly stretched the context of Matt. 16.

Before going further, can I just say that I absolutely agree the Bible needs to be applied (even interpreted I suppose we could say) to present day situations. We need to be in the business of wrestling (via the Spirit) with how the truths of Scripture call us to action in our present-day circumstances. But how does it do that? That’s the question.

Now a question I would have for Bell: The Israelites come out of Egypt with all its various deities and divine images. God essentially says to them, “I am the one true God. I am Spirit, so don’t make any earthly images of me.” At a some point later, the Israelite community decides, “well we heard it said God was like this, but we say…” and they fashion a golden image of God and fall down in worship (and most commentators would say the problem here is not that they were worshiping false gods but rather that they made an image out of God who Himself had no earthly image (cf the 2nd commandment and Deut. 4:12-15). Now would Bell take issue with their communal repainting of how they previously understood God’s self-revelation? We could ask the same question with regards to Adam and Eve. “You’ve heard it said if you eat this you will die, but I say…” The community of God in the garden (A & E) then decides to repaint the word of God in order to fit the needs (hunger) and ideas (serpent’s counsel) of their present day and act accordingly. Am I a bit over the top here? Probably. But I think it would at least be fair to ask how, if I adopt the approach to God’s word as laid out in this chapter, am I to think of these situations. Is someone right to come along, read Bell’s chapter, and find justification to repaint his own (assuming he finds a community of faith to back him up) prior understandings of idolatrous behavior, moral imperatives, homosexuality, etc?

Because this was indeed a loaded chapter, and because there is too much I want to say in response at this point, maybe I’ll just pause and see what you guys think. Am I forcing Bell down roads he’s not trying to go down? Am I drawing unfair implications? So to just sum up so far, I think he’s imposed new meaning to loosing and binding as they appear in Matthew, and after reading the chapter, I’m left desperately searching for a guardrail to delineate and keep me within the path of ortho-doxy/praxy.

What do you guy’s think? My next discussion topic would be the idea of Scripture’s “aliveness” as discussed in this chapter.