Theological Confusion
Topic: Theology
It is this sort of clear-headed, exegetically-informed, rational nonsense that makes me cringe to mention my alma mater, Bethel University. This was taken from a recent issue of the school's newpaper, the Bethel Clarion (scroll halfway down, middle column).
In Remembrance of Me
Jordan Anderson
After the bread, I traded spots with Jesus the other day, and pulled up a chair at the right hand of God. He grabbed my wrist, said, “Watch this!” and spoke the universe while I floated over the deep. He smiled and flung galaxies and massaged life into the shoulders of the earth.
He started a bush on fire and convinced a shy, stuttering outcast to argue with a king. He stuck up for the guy, held the sun in his hand for a few days, and in return they built him a box to sit in. The box was cute, in its own way.
I popped down to the earth to let God out of the box. I tried to explain a bunch of stuff, which didn’t go well. I guess I confused a lot of people with the “last shall be first,” “sound of one hand clapping,” and so forth. Maybe I could’ve just left it at “be like me,” or “help each other;” that was more the point. So, after asking if I had to, I let them kill me. It wasn’t so bad. Afterward, people insisted that killing me was the only way God could forgive them. They were so sure somebody had to die, but at least they finally let God be forgiving a little.
As soon as I left they started building more boxes; they all want things in boxes, it seems. And they made fancy sticks to measure and hit each other with. Lots of people prayed for stuff in lots of different ways. They lived meticulously and bickered a bit. A few of them offered me apologies for not convincing each other about some detail or other of me, which was cute, in its own way.
Most of them died, and the ones that hadn’t yet were just so sure they would. They planned it all out and decided how they would believe when the time came. Then the rest of them died too, which turned out to not be as bad as they thought. At what they were certain to call Judgment (or sometimes Purgatory, Nirvana, the Ganges, whatever), I snuck up on all my friends and hugged them big from behind. They thanked me.
They dropped the medals they had given themselves when they finally got their minds around God. They all wished they’d got it sooner ‘cause their lives and prayers looked real petty. But they washed each others feet, and once in a while turned red about how selfish they were even when they felt their most generous, which was cute and beautiful all at once. It was endearing how playfully child-like they were in heaven.
I spent three eternities being loved by God in Jesus’ place, and he spent three eternities with me in mine. Then I gave thanks and drank the cup.
Where do you start with this? Doctrine of God? Sacramentology? Christology and the incarnation? Redemptive eschatology? Oy vey...
