The Jets, the Sharks, and Jesus

“They’re like Romeo and Juliet.” 

I’ve heard that said when two people are deeply in love. What is meant, of course, is not that the two people in question are star-crossed lovers, destined to crash and burn as a result of their passionate feelings for one another. No, it means that they epitomize the timeless, starry-eyed ideal of the romantic love story.

But is Romeo and Juliet a timeless, romantic love story? I was reminded the other day that this uber-famous play is actually about “a relationship that lasted three days between a 13-year-old and a 17-year-old, which resulted in six deaths.” Well, when you put it that way . . . Romantic? No. Timeless? Only because we’ve made it so.

In fact, Romeo and Juliet has been told and re-told in countless different ways with as many different settings and backdrops (from Nazi Germany to wherever Porky Pig lives). One of the most famous re-imaginings of Shakespeare’s tale is the 1950s musical West Side Story (cue snapping), which is set in contemporary (then) New York and involves street gangs, knives, and zip guns (zip guns!). Another well-known retelling was a film called Romeo + Juliet that came out when I was in college, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and set in a fictional modern-day location called “Verona Beach,” which is probably in California. Car chases and gunfights ensue, but the story of two star-crossed lovers remains the same.

“Has anyone seen my zip gun? It’s this long. And it’s a zip gun.”

It seems that the setting is incidental to this story. It’s really about the relationship between these two families (or gangs or whatever) and how it affects two young people and their budding relationship. The rest is just backdrop, which can easily be replaced with another backdrop without harming the tale.

This switching out of backdrops for classic stories is pretty commonplace: Clueless is really just Jane Austin’s Emma plopped down 180 years later in a Beverly Hills high school and O Brother Where Art Thou is a loose re-telling of Homer’s Odyssey. Both work because these timeless stories can play before any backdrop. Georgian England or 90210 in 1995, the Trojan War or Depression-era chain gangs—these are just details not essential to the plot. Now, there certainly are stories where this doesn’t apply (for instance,Orwell’s 1984 ceases to make sense if you remove the backdrop of a tyrannical dystopia), but Romeo and Juliet easily survives a split from its historical setting.

Why do I even bring this up? Because our culture is viewing the world around us more and more in terms of narratives—stories. This is good news for Christians, since we have always viewed the world through the lens of the meta-narrative—the one Big Story of how God created us, we fell into sin, and He redeemed us through an incredible plan that climaxed with the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. When we speak in terms of stories, then, we’re speaking both the language of Scripture and the language of the culture, which can make for some pretty effective preaching and some rather naturally occurring evangelism in the workplace, the family, or among friends.

But we have to be careful how we tell the Story. I’ve previously shared with you the best advice I ever got about preaching: my homiletics professor told us, “Gentlemen, when you’ve finished your sermon and think it’s just about ready to preach, read it over and ask yourself this . . . Could this message still be true and make sense if Jesus had not died and risen again for our salvation? If the answer is yes, then throw it out and start over, because it’s not a Christian sermon. It’s self-help or life-coaching or tips for family dynamics, but it’s not a cross-centered message, which is what we are called to proclaim.” In other words, if you’re about to deliver a sermon or teach a lesson that is supposed to be rooted in the cross of Jesus, but you could swap out the cross of Jesus for the Koran or a book on etiquette or a self-esteem or productivity seminar (just as easily as swapping out Fair Verona for 1950s New York), then there’s something seriously wrong.

Well, the same thing applies to our very lives—our narratives. How is it that Jesus and his cross fit into your story? Is He part of the backdrop, a detail not essential to the plot? Is He a set-piece that could be removed or replaced without harming the overall story? Is the cross of Jesus like the setting of Romeo and Juliet (incidental and unessential) or is he more like the shark in Jaws? Think about it, you can do Jaws without Jets, but not without a shark. No shark, no story. Then again, we could replace the shark with a tiger or a huge snake or even a hurricane (after all, it’s a basic “man-versus-nature” story) and not lose too much, I suppose. The story of Scripture, though, is man-versus-God. And God Wins through His coming down in flesh to dwell amongst us and His dying for our sins, only to rise again. It’s the tale of God, in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself. You remove that and plug anything else in its place and you’ve lost everything.

Rather than being part of the background or a supporting character in our story (a character who might be written out at any time), God calls us to become a supporting character in His story, the Big Story of redemption that he is writing. That means that our whole existence is only meaningful in relation to the plot of the Jesus Story. To remove us from that and try to find any meaning apart from it would be meaningless, like trying to create a spin-off series for the Close Talker or “Frightened Inmate #3.” When we realize that our lives have meaning only because they are part of God’s Story (and not because He is part of ours), then we can say goodbye to much of the uncertainty and doubt that so often plagues us as Christians—doubt that we’re doing enough, doubt that our story is compelling enough. It’s not. But His Story is.

Just as a sermon should pass the “Would it make sense without the cross?” test, so should our lives. When we prayerfully reflect on each day, perhaps we should ask the question, “Would today have looked any different if Jesus hadn’t died for my sins and risen again for my justification?” If it would have been the same, take heart—God’s story carries on. Let’s repent of our attempts to make Jesus part of the scenery and ask him every day to make us part of His Story, which is timeless—not because it can be re-imagined in a number of different times and places, but because it spans all of time. And he’s cast you in the role of disciple. How could we possibly pass that up?


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If I Enjoy It, It Must Be Bad . . .

I recently told someone that photos of big city skylines are “like porn” to me. I immediately recognized that it was a pretty crude thing to say (which isn’t surprising; the taming of my tongue is my greatest struggle, and the old gab-box has to be slapped back down from time to time as part of my sanctification), but it also planted a weird seed of thought in my mind that germinated over the next few days.

Here’s what I started to ask myself: was there maybe something to that analogy? Was there something sinful about my love for leafing (or clicking) through pictures of Chicago, Detroit, LA, Beijing? After all, these are images of places that, according to the Scriptures, are passing away. Why do they do it for me? Was this an indicator that I was setting my eyes on “earthly things,” and not on “things above” (even though skyscrapers are both earthly and, ya know, above)? 

 

The Scripture passage in question is, of course, Colossians 3:1-3, “Since you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.  Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.”  And, given that context, it becomes quickly clear that setting our minds on “things above” does not mean having our head in the clouds, avoiding anything physical, or making sure we don’t enjoy the wonderful creation God has given us. In fact, the more we set our minds on things above, the more we’ll find them right here at ground level.

So how can I tell if my ground-level interests are harshing my piety? Well, first off, let the Scriptures themselves tell us what they mean by “earthly,” “worldly,” and “fleshly.”

Here’s a montage (provide your own power ballad):

• “Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry.” (Col 3:5)
• “You are still worldly. For since there is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not worldly?” (1 Cor 3:3)
• “Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions,  envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these.” (Gal 5:19-21)

So I check my tendency to thoroughly enjoy cityscapes against these works of the flesh and worldly things. Is it leading me to anger, division, and fighting? Nope; that would be weird. Into idolatry? i.e., if I’m honest with myself, am I looking to these images for comfort that I should be receiving from God? (This isn’t as crazy a question as it may initially sound). I determine: no, I’m not.

Nor is it giving birth to lust (as would be the case with actual porn) or lust’s cousins, jealousy, greed, and covetousness. Again, this is not so far fetched; I’ve heard from several people in the last year or so, who tell me that thumbing through pictures of houses, cars, cottages, etc. online or in magazines (a seemingly innocuous practice) has led to incredible covetousness and a sense of deep discontentment. That practice, then, is sinful, insofar as it reinforces a focus on earthly things, as defined by Scripture. However, I have no real aspirations to owning a skyscraper or having a penthouse view and I don’t find myself coveting these things. Ironically, flipping through catalogs of theology books has often led me into covetousness, but looking at an impressive crop of steel, glass, and concrete buildings does not.

And I think it’s fitting that this little case study involves cities—particularly when we consider that the first city was built in direct opposition to God’s command (Gen 4:12, 16) and the next major city planning/building project was an example of full-on insubordination against the Most High (Gen 9:1; 11:4). There’s something dodgy about cities from the very beginning. Perhaps that’s why many people think of them as being full of crime and corruption, when, in reality, you find sin and corruption everywhere you find people.

But there’s good news (as always) and it’s rooted (as always) in Redemption. Sure, cities as a phenomenon got a sketchy, sinful start in the first book of the Bible . . . but check out the last book: “And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God.’” (Rev 21:2-3)

You see that? God redeems the very concept of cities! As Abraham Kuyper said, “There is not one thumb-breadth of the universe about which Jesus Christ does not say, It is mine.” Remember that when you’re worried that your pastime, hobby, interest, or mode of blowing off steam might not be quite “heavenly enough” for a Christian. If it’s not causing you to sin (including coveting what others have or consuming your life and time to the point of becoming idolatrous), you are free to love things on this earth. To steal a line from my friend Dr. Michael Wittmer’s, we were created for this place; we’re earthlings, for heaven’s sake!

It's incredibly telling that Christians often have a subtle sense that “if I really enjoy it, it must be bad.” That kind of quote/unquote “puritanical thinking” comes not from the Puritans, but from the Gnostics. And the Bible straight-up condemns that kind of thinking. “If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations—‘Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch’ (referring to things that all perish as they are used)—according to human precepts and teachings? These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-made religion and asceticism and severity to the body, but they are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh.” (Col 2:20-23) Trying to avoid everything in the world doesnot make us immune to the pull of the world and the works of the flesh.

So enjoy the city skyline. Enjoy hiking and picking wild berries. Enjoy punk rock, hip hop, folk, or reggae. Enjoy studying history and mythology. Enjoy reading fiction and watching films. Remember: your maturity as a Christian is not measured by how miserable you are or your lack of enjoying life. People today might call that view “puritanical,” but our Puritan forebears didn’t believe that for one minute! They enjoyed good food and drink (yes, drink!, although in keeping with Col 3, they were careful to never drink to drunkenness), music, and relaxing with family and friends.

This year, may we too work hard, serve God with all our might, and acknowledge him as the giver of all good gifts, letting all good gifts cause us to return thanks and give praise.

(If you're interested in reading more on this topic, you should check out Dr. Wittmer's book Heaven Is a Place on Earth and his newest work Becoming Worldly Saints, which comes out in less than a month.)

My Corny Christmas Poem

Here’s a corny little rhyme-couplet style poem I wrote a few years ago. Trust me, the metre works if you make it...

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Twas 750...
Years before Christmas and all throughout Judah
There were idols a-plenty (of Baal, not Buddha)

The Assyrian Empire was everywhere feared
Led by Tiglath-Pilesar, whose name was quite weird

King Ahaz had buckled like the belt on my khakis
And the great nation Judah became boot-licking lackeys

They abandoned the covenant and the God who had made them
Looked to Egypt for help, which had been...um...forbaden

Their enemies were mean, they were kickers and spitters
So the people lost hope, like a bunch of lame quitters

The Devil was happy; he was pleased! he was winning!
With the king a big wimp and the people all sinning

And so without hope, they gave in to these Gentiles
As Isaiah had prophesied, a couple of exiles

The South off to Babylon, the North to Assyria
(‘fore that massive Diaspora from Spain to Siberia)

Could there ever be hope again for this covenant people?
It seems the Old Testament is in need of a sequel.

For 400 years, not a peep from a prophet
God withheld the big bomb, not quite ready to drop it

Then about A.D. 1 God said, “Now, let’s get to it—
To reverse the great curse that came down when they blew it”

The arrangements all made and the stage all prepared,
The Virgin conceived and the census declared

And up in the heavens, God let loose with his Spirit
(He doesn’t say “Ho ho ho”—when He laughs, you can feel it)

“On Raphael, on Michael, on Uriel, on Gabriel”
Operation Immanuel will kick off in a stable.

Salvation is coming; Satan’s curse is deleted,
The people redeemed and the devil defeated

Old Satan was cooked—with potatoes and gravy
How horribly embarrassing—to be trounced by a baby

So into the darkness was born a great light
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.