Nathan Key

On the way back home from Osprey, where we were visiting my in-laws the other night, I told Beth that I feel like my relationship with God is a little rocky. I related a few things that seemed to be missing from my spiritual health and the frustration I’ve been dealing with over my lack of connection on spiritual matters. It just seems as though I’ve got a lot of brilliant ideas about who God is, but no fruit to speak of that transpires from a healthy relationship.

She let me vent for a few moments, and after talking about prayer and connection for a bit, Beth told me something that I hope I never forget:

“But Nathan,” She said, “I don’t think you realize how much you’ve actually grown. I mean, you’re completely different than when I met you. Sure, you’re not as involved in public spiritual activity as you were- you’re not leading a college ministry or filling in as a youth pastor at church like you did previously- but I can’t begin to tell you about the change that I’ve seen in your heart when it comes to fathering Ethan or providing for my needs.”

“You have this idea in your head that if you’re not doing something huge, something big, and publically recognized that it doesn’t count. But what about our son? God’s entrusted us with raising Ethan. Your influence on his life is going to change the world. That may not seem like a service project in another country or feeding the homeless or any of those other public things that our friends are doing, but it’s just as big and just as important.”

“I guess so,” I replied.

“OK, it may seem like those people are doing more for God,” She said, “But how many of them would get up at 3am and 5am to take care of a crying baby so that their wife could get a few more moments of sleep? Many of them don’t even want kids because it would interrupt their lives. You’ve chosen not only to have a child, but to be a father who cares for his child and doesn’t just rely on his wife to do everything. That’s huge.”

This is about the time when I started tearing up. I began to realize that without me knowing it, God’s been at work all along, changing me into a different, better person.

“Remember that verse, ‘He who began a good work in your will be faithful to complete it?’” She asked, “Well, He really has been faithful in working on you. I mean, you were kind of a jerk for a while there, but He’s been gradually making you more and more like Him- and believe me, it’s obvious. You’re not as selfish anymore. You’re not as easily angered. You’re slowly, but surely becoming more and more like Christ without even knowing it.”

“But I haven’t even acknowledged His work.” I told her. “I haven’t given Him any credit for any of this. I’ve sort of felt like it was me, willing myself to be a better father and husband.”

“Do you honestly think any of this was really your idea?” She asked. “You think you came up with the idea that you should be less selfish and kinder to us? You know, I don’t think any of us part with selfishness naturally. I think change like this is proof that God’s working in us and through us, even when we aren’t. Besides- I think He knows how hard it is to have little babies. You never hear from anyone or in any book that the first few years, when the children are all in diapers, are the most romantic, love-filled days when marriage blossoms and service projects abound. In fact, if you were off doing as much stuff as you used to before we were married; you’d be ignoring your responsibilities as a father and as a husband. I think the real problem is that you’re comparing yourself against who you were rather than who you are.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” I said. “So I guess maybe I need to find more new dads to be friends with. I don’t really know what a new dad’s relationship with God is supposed to look like because I only have myself to compare against.”

Of course, the moment I said this, the paradox became clear. New dads, if they’re spending an appropriate amount of time with their family, don’t really have a ton of time for other relationships with other new dads… Which makes it all the more important to have amazing wives that remind us that God’s working in us. Even when we don’t see it. Even when we believe the opposite.

Nathan Key: First question, you're teaching philosophy, which totally puts you in a different class than say, myself (I'm looking into grad schools for the future), but whenever I tell people about my own interest in philosophy, they always counter with some sort of "what are you going to do with a philosophy degree?" statement. So, let's go ahead and entertain that question for a moment. Other than just teach philosophy, what's the big goal of yours? What do you hope to accomplish with your PhD?

Micah Tillman: Teachers have a strange role. Rather than going out and "having lives" themselves, it's their job to help other people live better (live more intelligently, more skillfully, more virtuously).

A teacher of politics teaches other people how to govern, rather than governing for herself. A teacher of architecture teaches other people how to build buildings, rather than building buildings herself. Etc.
 
A teacher doesn't make things; a teacher makes people -- or, rather, a teacher helps people make themselves -- who then go out and make things.

A teacher doesn't shape things; a teacher shapes people who then go out and shape things.

So, it looks like teachers do nothing, make nothing. Everything that is done and shaped is done and shaped by students. But that just means you measure a teacher's success in terms of people, not things. Teachers change the world for the better by changing their students for the better. Or, rather, teachers change the world for the better by helping their students change themselves for the better.

And that means that being a teacher is both arrogant and humiliating . You have to both think you can help your students become better than they are, and accept the fact that your profession relegates you to role of "having once had an influence on" the movers and shakers (rather than being a mover and shaker yourself).  (But to be honest, I'm not sure anyone would want to see me either move or shake, so it's probably best for everyone that I'm just a teacher. . . .)

So, what's my big goal other than teaching? I want to be a writer. I want to write books that will help people think more clearly about their lives, as I gradually learn to think more clearly about my own. And it really helps to have a "Ph.D." after your name, when it comes to getting people to read your books.

Nathan Key: On your blog, you've been writing an ongoing commentary on Paul's letter to the Romans, which I've really enjoyed. Can you tell my readers a little bit more about this project and why it's so important to you?
 
Micah Tillman: Thanks! I'm trying to figure out whether I have to become a Calvinist ("Reformed"), you see. I'm scared that I'll have to.

My formative years were spent in a Baptist church that was part-Reformed, part-Anabaptist.  We were kind of Calvinist, and kind of anti-Calvinist. But I didn't know enough at the time to be as thoroughly confused as I later became.

Things came to a head, as they say, when recently I found a lot of lectures on iTunes U from Reformed Theological Seminary. I "go running" every day, and needed something intellectually-stimulating to listen to. So, I started listening to RTS lectures.

It's been both wonderful and infuriating. The Reformed Theologians are remarkable for their systematic, philosophical approach to theology. I really like that. And Tim Keller, of whom I've recently become a big fan, is a Presbyterian (a Calvinist/Reformed Theologian).

However, the more I listened, the more it became apparent to me that I had some serious problems with some of the central tenets of Reformed Theology.

So, I had to figure out whether the problems I had were legitimate. When I try to "figure something out," I have to write about it. That's how I work through things, explore ideas, develop arguments, and whatnot. That led to a lot of blogging about Calvinism and Reformed Theology, and eventually brought me to Romans.

Calvinists cited so many verses from Romans to support their Doctrine of Total Depravity, that I decided I was just going to have to study the whole letter.

And that meant I was essentially going to have to write a "commentary" on Romans.

It's been fascinating for me so far. I'm five or so chapters in and have already found things -- things that seem hugely important to me -- that I had never noticed before. So far it's not looking good for the Calvinists, but there's a lot of Romans left.  I never know quite what's going to turn up in the next block of verses, so you may get to watch me become a Calvinist before your very eyes. Or you may get to watch me get to the final verse of Romans and say, "Ha!  I knew I was right!"

Of course, once I'm done with Romans, I'll have to then get back to the list of specific verses that I was going through when I ran into the block from Romans (and got sidetracked).

Nathan Key: Hey, I'll definitely be looking forward to those other commentaries, too!

OK, here's a question that I'm interested in. It seems like Twentieth Century Philosophy is often associated with atheism and agnosticism- especially since some of the more preeminent twentieth century philosophers were so adamantly anti-god or anti-religion. But lately, it seems like there's been a renewed interest among Christians regarding philosophy. Why do you think that is?

Micah Tillman: There are at least two reasons: Brian McLaren and the New Atheists.

First: It's Brian McLaren's "fault." Or, rather, it's the "Emergent Church Movement's" "fault," of which McLaren is a prime mover.

As best I can tell, it was McLaren who decided that Protestant Christianity needed to do two things: (1) admit it was living in a postmodern world, and (2) embrace postmodernism. (You can do the former without doing the latter, but McLaren thinks we need to do both.  See his A New Kind of Christian series <http://www.amazon.com/New-Kind-Christian-Friends-Spiritual/dp/078795599X/>.)

Once the word gets around that we don't live in the modern world (like everyone thought!), but in fact are living after the modern world, people start to get curious. What is postmodernism? How is it different from modernism? What in the world is modernism, anyway? (I'd suggest Crystal Downing's, How Postmodernism Serves (My) Faith <http://www.amazon.com/How-Postmodernism-Serves-Faith-Questioning/dp/0830827587/>, in response to those questions.)

And once you start asking questions like that, you have to start studying philosophy. Without postmodernism as a philosophical movement, McLaren would have had to turn somewhere else.  Without Derrida and Foucault, there would be no McLaren. Or, rather, McLaren would be a different McLaren than he is today. And that means everyone who is now caught up in the Emergent Church movement would have had to frame what they were doing in completely different terms.

In other words, the legitimacy of the Emergent Church rests on the legitimacy of postmodern philosophy. It's in the postmodernist's critique of modernist ways of thinking that McLaren & Co. found a way to respond to what they thought was wrong with the Christianity they grew up on.

Second: It's the New Atheists' (Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennett, Sam Harris, and Christopher Hitchens) "fault."

After 9/11, and in the midst of the presidency of George W. Bush, the atheists of the West felt under attack from "Religious Extremists." So they fought back with a series of books against the idea of God and the fact of religion.

That, in turn, led American Christians, at least, to feel under attack. After all, the New Atheists represent enlightenment, reason, toleration, etc. They're smart, well-respected people. They are the intelligentsia.

So prominent Christians began to respond with their own books. (See, for example, Tim Keller's The Reason for God <http://www.amazon.com/Reason-God-Belief-Age-Skepticism/dp/0525950494/>, and search for "new atheism" on Amazon for any number of others.) 

The New Atheists were claiming that certain ideas (about God, religion, the world) have massive real-world effects (like terrorism, war, political injustice). So, suddenly, philosophical issues weren't just esoteric curiosities. These guys were claiming your way of life is produced by your way of thinking, and that the way Christians think leads to oppression and war.

Naturally, Christians would want to defend themselves.  But to do that, they'd have to get philosophical. They would have to defend themselves in the arena of ideas.

NK: I can't help but make the political leap, now that we've covered some philosophy and religion... Iwas somewhat surprised to find another philosopher who leans libertarian on the political spectrum since I honestly don't meet a lot of libertarian philosophers (I suppose this could be due to the influence of Mill and Marx). Anyhow, I was wondering how you came to believe so strongly in individual liberty? Was that something that you picked up through your study of philosophy or was that something you brought with you?

MT: I came to be a libertarian for a few different reasons.

First: I'm a libertarian because I'm not sure I'm right. Since I'm not sure I'm right, I don't feel comfortable forcing other people to do what I say. And thus I'm surprised at other people who are willing to force other people to do what they say. How could they be so sure that they're right, when I'm not sure that I'm right?  I find it offensive!  Do they think they're better than me?

I'm a smart guy, you see; I've thought long and hard about political issues. I married a person who fundamentally disagrees with me, and go to a church where everyone disagrees with me. I can't help but think long and hard about political issues.

And yet, I'm still not sure I'm right. After all, I live and worship with extremely intelligent people who think I'm wrong! So if someone as intelligent and engaged as I am can't be sure he's right, how could anyone?

Libertarianism, of all the political philosophies (besides anarchism, which many libertarians ascribe to), takes most seriously the idea that people shouldn't force each other to do things.

Second: I was raised a "Back-to-the-Constitution!" Conservative, so that predisposed me to believing in things like "individual liberty" and "limited government."

Third: I got really, really sick of people blaming me for things I hadn't done just because I belonged to some "group" like "America," "Christians," or "Baptists" that had done something. It made me question the entire notion of groups -- and I eventually came to the conclusion that they were an artificial construct.

But if groups don't exist, then what does? Persons. Not individuals, but persons. Here, the work of the Boston Personalists, and some Catholic philosophizing about the dignity of human persons really influenced me.

(A person, for example, can need other people and enjoy traditions without ceasing to be her own person; but an individual has to be different from everyone else, has to be unique, has to be an island.  There can be independent standards for a person, but not for an individual; an individual has to follow his own rules.  And that means you can tell a person that she has to respect your rights, but you can't tell an individual that.  An individual can't accept any norms that come from outside himself, or else he ceases to be a true individual.)

The more I thought about all this, the more it seemed to me that libertarianism was closest to being right.

NK: Obviously the libertarian lens effects (or affects, I never get this right) how you read and study other philosophers, right? So, do you see any apparent difference in your own approach to philosophy and religion because of the libertarian leaning?

MT: Indeed.  First and foremost, libertarianism is the idea that politics is fundamentally secondary, that government is not and should not be central to life. Politics and government are important only insofar as they have the power to impede the real business of living.

Therefore, I am inclined to be very skeptical of any philosophy or religious system that makes politics central, that treats political life as the highest kind, or that claims a person's personhood depends in some way on the political system in which she lives, or the government under which she lives.  I find it difficult to believe anyone who would claim that a person can only find fulfilment in a political group or community (e.g., in a nation, a city, a state.).

Furthermore, being of the libertarian persuasion keeps me on the lookout for the ways in which an idea, or system of ideas, could be used by people to strengthen or expand the use of physical force (by government, or by whoever).  That is, it makes me more sensitive than I might otherwise be to the ways in which ideas are connected with power.

And, being a libertarian makes it harder for me to accept even those places in a philosophy or religion where the idea of groups might be used legitimately. I find, for instance, Paul's talk about the "body of Christ" to be hard (but not impossible!) to swallow, because of how similar it is to the (dangerous) idea of the "body politic."

So, in some ways, my libertarianism puts me at a disadvantage. So, I have to remind myself that even though I feel or believe very strongly in libertarian ideas, I am not certain of them.  I have to remember that one of the reasons I'm a libertarian is that I don't think I've gotten everything figured out. And therefore some ideas that may not make me happy at the moment, may actually be legitimate. 

NK: I think we're on the same page in this regard, and I really like how you said that libertarians are often those who have strong opinions that they DON'T want to impose on others, even if those ideas aren't ideally "Libertarian." Micah, thanks so much for sharing these thoughts with us. I really glad to have a voice like yours to learn from and brainstorm with.

MT: Thanks for the honor!

I was thinking about Jesus' statement, "Judge Not, Lest Thee Be Judged" the other day when I was sitting in a gathering at Summit Church in Orlando.

It's rather difficult, honestly, writing a blog like this to avoid criticism of other people. I mean, as much as I try to make a humble narration of the things I see around me, I've probably resorted to finger pointing at least as often as true objective commentary. That said, I hope that anyone who reads this blog (especially those with contrary opinions) understands that some of my very best friends are democrats, republicans, socialists, and of course libertarians (I even know a few closet fascists, but I won't call them out here). I love each of them very much and I think that each of us are trying to accomplish the same things with our political agendas. None of us are more or less compassionate toward the poor, the rich, or the middle class- we merely have different ideas about what's the most effective way to meet the needs of the most people.

What's frustrating is that any one of these ideologies could probably work. Socialism has worked in some places just as well as the free market. And dictatorships have flourished just as democracies have. But we rarely acknowledge this. We're each so sure that we have the right answers, we resorts to casting judgment on each other about whether we truly support the needs of the poor or the lives of unborn children or marriage or whatever issue we're most passionate about.

And this is when Jesus' words about judging can become most helpful.

We judge when we assume that Republicans who are trying to protect the rights of businesses are evil because they don't seem to be fighting for the "little guy." We judge when we assert that they don't care about women because they want them to go through with pregnancies. We put the "evil" brand on Democrats who are trying to fight for the rights of homosexuals because they don't seem to respect heterosexual marriage. We shut down their ideas because their sense of social justice involves (in our minds) "punishing" those who are successful at creating wealth. People assume that Libertarians are crazy potheads because we want to legalize marijuana even though most of us think it would actually SAVE lives and lead to less violence.

I know I need to be more humble when I blog. I need to be careful to remember that my friends on the other side of the political isle are usually after the same thing as me. They want to everyone to have the best possible life. I can't be so quick to blow them off- even if I disagree with their methods.

So hold me to that.

I'll do the same for you.

I've had a really hectic week, and thus been unable to blog... But I wanted to share two things.

First, I've been reading through John Piper's book "When I don't Desire God: How to Fight for Joy" and I was struck again with the reality that idolatry comes down to a failure to really see God clearly and enjoy Him. That's why I'm certain that idolatry is really the worst sort of problem we can have...

Even more than Pride.

For if we don't have a clear picture of who God is, we'll never value Him more than our "idols."

ALSO:

Christopher Cocca, who I interviewed last week, posted his half of our interview today on his site. Head over there and check out some of our talk on Google Wave, Irony, and Sci-Fi.

Based on some of the comments from the other posts (here and here) I wanted to address something that should clarify my position a bit and also add to the discussion.

Comment: All laws spring from some sort of morality.
True.

And on the State and Local level, where the government is more in tune with the morality of the community, I believe that governments should have the ability to legislate freely. It's with the Central Government that I'm a little wary.

Here in the United States, we originally limited the powers of the Federal Government to the protection and unification of our people under a select number of rights- springing from a common sense of morality.

What I was trying to argue- and failed at- was this: as we've allowed the Federal Government to gain more and more power and influence over its citizens, the end result has been laws that don't always land squarely on a shared vision of morality.

Let's face it, not all people or religions share a common idea of right and wrong.

Those ideals that gain nearly unanimous consensus probably belong at the Federal Level. But the rest of the laws should be saved for the local level, where they will remain coherent with the will of the people closest to them. This is why we've got the tenth amendment. And I think we need to look into re-emphasizing it a bit more.

Continued from last Thursday.

I am almost tempted to side with the "moral majority" on this issue because of a few I remember reading from Jefferson and Adams where they basically came out and said- this system of limited government isn't going to work if people abandon God. But then I remember what happens when religions feel like people are abandoning "the faith." Things get ugly. Sometimes bloody.

Which is why I'm glad that Churches aren't in control of the army here in our country.

But this isn't to say that governments are better at dictating morality. I don't believe that at all. In fact, I think they're pretty terrible at it. Now, there's nothing particularly "wrong" with governments dictating morals. Most of world history is full of this sort of thing. In fact, Liberty and Limited Government are relatively new ideas compared to dictatorship and tyranny. But it's only very rarely that a benevolent leader was in charge and things ran rather smoothly and peacefully because the morality that was dictated came from a good heart.

The trouble is, leaders aren't always good. And inevitably a lot of them make terrible, selfish choices that actually hurt their people rather than help them. And when evil men are in charge of dictating morality- you have the Inquisition and the Holocaust. You get persecution and genocide.

Interestingly enough, I think part of the problem we have today here in the US isn't that we're too immoral. I think there is plenty of morality. The problem is that we've slipped into a government system where too much power is in the hands of the President and Legislator. Both Republicans and Democrats bring their "morality" into Congress and pass laws based on restraining or enabling the morality of the people.

We've heard the term culture war quite often over the past 10 years and I think the reason liberals and conservatives are so wary of each other isn't the political, but rather religious and moral ideas that each party holds.

Liberals are concerned with the environment for moral reasons. The same is true for systemic poverty and education. These aren't simply political issues for them, they are very religious and moral.

The same can be said of Conservatives who are concerned with unborn babies and upholding their own ideal of what marriage should look like. These aren't simply political issues, either- they speak to the very core of their being and spring from a moral/religious code within them.

Whenever one side or the other makes it into the White House or takes a majority in Congress, fear grips the other side. There's a sense of impending DOOM that the Republicans or Democrats are going to ruin the world with their ideals. I firmly believe that is evidence that we've actually given TOO much moral and religious power over to the government rather than the reverse. These are ideals and values that are at war. And if they were left to the community and churches to decide (as they were originally intended to be), I think our nation would be much better off.

On Sunday, we went over to visit Summit Church in Orlando again. The topic was John 8:1-11 and I was specifically thankful for two perspectives that I gained on this passage, specifically around Jesus "writing in the sand" when the scribes and leaders bring the woman to him who has been caught in adultery.

"Now early in the morning He came again into the temple, and all the people came to Him; and He sat down and taught them. Then the scribes and Pharisees brought to Him a woman caught in adultery. And when they had set her in the midst, they said to Him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses, in the law, commanded us that such should be stoned. But what do You say?”  This they said, testing Him, that they might have something of which to accuse Him. But Jesus stooped down and wrote on the ground with His finger, as though He did not hear. So when they continued asking Him, He raised Himself up and said to them, “He who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first.” And again He stooped down and wrote on the ground. Then those who heard it, being convicted by their conscience, went out one by one, beginning with the oldest even to the last. And Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. When Jesus had raised Himself up and saw no one but the woman, He said to her, “Woman, where are those accusers of yours? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said to her, “Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more.” "

One: In New King James, there's a statement that doesn't appear in any of the other translations. Verse 6 says, "Jesus stooped down and wrote on the ground with His finger, as though He did not hear." The teacher at Summit reminded us that these scribes and Pharisees were basically barging in on Jesus' teaching- with this added section it seems that Jesus has good boundaries as a teacher. He's not going to let anyone interrupt His teaching- especially not those who are simply trying to trip him up.

Two: By responding in this way- bending over and writing on the ground- Jesus diffuses all attention from the woman in question and places it on Himself. That may seem trite, but when we consider that this woman was probably standing there naked- or barely covered since she had literally been "caught in the act"- we're dealing with a lot of shame and exposure. When the men came in pointing fingers at the woman, trying to get Jesus' take on the matter, He calmly takes the focus onto himself and spares her from the limelight.

I think this is a good metaphor for the entire human condition. There's an accuser who wants to shame us and use us to trip up others, and then there's Jesus who refuses to play into the accusations, and calmly takes the focus onto himself and diffuses the enemy's tricks. The sin is never sidestepped or excused- it's called out and exposed for what it is- but the end result is redemption rather than shame and condemnation.

You're trying to call out a friend's addiction, so you heap on the guilt...

Thick.

The results are less than desirable, in fact, your friend seems to be further addicted than ever before. What's going on? Why doesn't a guilt trip work?

Plain and simple, every one of us are dealing with self-loathing tendencies already- without the aid of our well intended friends. So add an addiction to the mix and you can bet you're dealing with someone who's already going through a lot of guilt, self-hatred, and contempt over their inability to let go.

That said, how on earth would MORE guilt make that situation any better than it already is?

Perhaps that's why God goes with a different plan (one that we'd follow if we were smart)? It's His Kindness that leads us to repentance (Romans 2). He knows that condemnation is worthless, usually pushing us onward toward despair rather than redemption.

That said, when we heap on condemnation- we're working against God. We're anti-Christ.

Just a thought.