This was written for a World Religions class I’m taking this summer. It is in response to the question are you an inclusivist, restrictivist, or universalist; and why.

Succinctly put, I am a restrictivist hoping that inclusivism is true. I hope that God will save more people than those who we know have heard the message of Christ. This group is too large to callously ignore.

Although inclusivism and restrictivism both present valid points, I find restrictivism better fits within a biblical model. Restrictivists affirm the necessity of Jesus in a more concrete manner than do inclusivists. (Sanders, pgs. 42-43, 57) General revelation is an important aspect of the unveiling of God to the world, but the Bible notes that “faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Romans 10:17, ESV). Although theoretically possible that people will be given an opportunity to believe after death, Hebrews notes that “after [death] comes judgment” (Hebrews 9:27; pg. 46). It seems more like wishful thinking than valid theology to operate with this sort of belief.

Although I do not fully subscribe to a reformed position, reformers make cogently argue the elect will hear the gospel (Sanders, pgs. 57-58). If the elect will hear the gospel, then all who do not hear the gospel are unelect and do not affect the mercy and love of God any more than a staunch Calvinist position would.

Universalism needs little explanation as an invalid theory as it denies every scripture regarding judgment (pg. 108) and removes every semblance of human choice (pg. 110).

Inclusivism rests on two things: first, the universal salvific nature of God (pg. 131) and a struggle within its adherents to reconcile a loving God who sends much of humanity to hell. I question whether theology based on personal feelings should define God. The greatest fault of inclusivism rests on the extra weight put on a few scriptures which indicate God’s desire for mankind’s salvation. If we could prove that one person would experience judgment (as Jesus strongly indicates) then we must conclude that God will not save all of mankind. If all of mankind is not saved, then a theological system that demands the universal accessibility of salvation is trivial. All will not accept salvation and we are not in a position to judge if it is fair. I made no choice that I would be born in Dallas, Texas to a certain family. It is plausible that God likewise makes salvific determinations in a similar manner. Romans 9:21 and the discourse between Job and God both indicate that God will do what He does.

I do see a few potential glimmers of hope regarding the salvation of the unevangelized. First, Paul’s encounter with Jesus was both real and not conveyed by men (Acts 8), and points to the possibility that the Spirit could supernaturally reveal Christ. Second, I disagree that people must refer to Jesus as “Christ” or “Jesus” since those terms were translated to English. “Christ” means “anointed,” so someone who has never heard of Christ can still know Christ because of the Spirit’s work in the world (Introduction III, Slide 24). Similarities within elements of world religions represent the Spirit’s work in the world (A. Lord, pg. 236). This raises the possibility that the Spirit has enlightened the hearts of others, but non-shared elements often contradict one another making a universal comparison difficult. It presents a good start but an incomplete end.

In college, a friend of mine spent a summer in Nepal. She came back with so many great stories and illustrations about people in general. She told stories of people who would believe in Jesus along with the rest of their gods. It was an incomprehensible addition. I thought, “How could you add another religion that doesn’t mesh with what you already believe.” It didn’t make sense. Adding a god that said, “I’m the ONLY way to heaven” didn’t seem congruent with a belief that said, “Be good and you’ll reach nirvana.”
And so I was baffled, and felt pride because my culture was smarter than them. We all knew that wasn’t possible. We Americans are better.
But I doubt that assessment is so true after all. It seems like American Christianity goes something like this: “Yea, I believe in God. And yea, I’m going to heaven and have fun here along the way.” The correlation between Americans and Nepalese isn’t the type of idol we serve, but the existence of important personal idols. Whereas the Nepalese add elements of religions, Americans add Christianity to narcissism and greed. We say, “Sure I believe in God and He has changed my life,” but so many of us would be hard-pressed to describe the change without a large degree of bs and hand-waving. You see, we’ve taken on Christianity like another god in our harem. We seek create a philosophy that is most pleasing to ourselves, while we forget that is not a logical nor reasonable thing to do.
So I ask, “Have you added Christ to your stable of gods?”

I made the jump from a twin sized bed to a queen sized bed a few weeks ago. The first few nights, I sprawled out diagonally on the bed in order to use every square inch of available real estate. It was amazing because I had all of this room for the first time in my life.
After the first few nights, I started to revert to my old habit: sleeping on the edge of the bed. You see, with a twin bed, you are always sleeping on the edge of the bed. The only question is which edge is closer. And so I turned the light off and began to roll over when I realized that rolling over in that direction would leave me on the floor. This was not an exciting idea, so I repositioned myself toward the center of the bed.
I started considering this odd behavior: why was I sleeping so close to the edge? I had so much space to use, but I was still hovering along the side. I began to realize my habits for sleeping next to the edge had superseded my new reality. The new state of my life was a big bed, but my tendencies caused me to revert to how things had always been done.
I wonder how often we miss out on the new and better things of life because we are so comfortable or habitually inclined toward the past. I think I miss out on so much because of these bad habits…

One of the most interesting parts of studying art and architecture is the notion of “thinking outside the box.” We all know that the phrase is overused and has devolved into a sad cliché, but you understand where I’m going. Design forces you to solve a multi-faceted problem, determining the most important elements to include in your design. All things considered, design forces you to devise unorthodox solutions to everyday problems.
I remember the following problem in one of my classes: how can you connect all 9 dots using no more than 4 straight lines?

Click here for the answer…
When I first tried it, I was stumped. I was stumped because I created artificial constraints that hindered me from finding the right answer. For some reason, I felt like the answer had to be within the boundaries of that box, even though the rules of the puzzle did not mention anything of the sort. I was shown the answer and automatically it clicked, “I failed because of my presuppositions.”
Of course this is merely a riddle—an interesting one—but just a riddle. But I’ve begun to think about how we abandon satisfaction because of our failed preconceived notions. We like to consider failures in our lives as passive failures: things that just happen because of a set of environmental circumstances, but it seems like we are much more active in these roles than we would ever like to admit.
I have an intensely sarcastic and biting sense of humor. Neither of these things is necessarily bad when used in the proper sense and at the proper time. I’m not going to delude myself into thinking or stating that I’ve chosen all of my moments wisely. There is always a certain amount of satisfaction associated with a quick retort or a biting comment about someone’s stupid decision. But the enjoyment ends about the same time my arm stops patting myself on the back.
It was satisfying, but not significant. The excitement ended as quickly as it came. And from the narcissistic standpoint, the solution to more satisfaction was to increase the frequency of these comments: it would serve to make sense…if something is good, do the same thing ten times more and it would be ten times better, logically speaking. Right? Not quite. The satisfaction was always fleeting and seemed to bring retorts which destroyed the enjoyment.
But what if the answer to satisfaction lay outside of my definitions? What if satisfaction is better found not in snaky comments but in genuine concern and excitement about others? I began to understand this when I asked a friend about her sister (who was in the hospital unexpectedly). I don’t want to make myself seem like a great person, because I’m certainly not, but after the conversation ended, I realized that genuine concern generates more satisfaction for me than scores of sarcastic comments. It was unsuspected at best and downright shocking at worst.
My egotistical selfishness led to a faulty belief structure which led to unreasonable actions. And in one instant, I realized the error associated with my vain and delusional quest for personal happiness, all filtered through my intensely narrow minded and foolish thoughts.
Of course, my intentions in life are not to make myself intensely satisfied. But if I can follow the guidelines outlined in the Bible while generating satisfaction, I see it as an entirely beneficial situation for everyone and making it a worthwhile goal.

I finally had the chance to sit down and read the Pope’s recent speech that caused an uproar around the world. It was interesting to see how little of the speech actually referred to Islam, and how the quote he used was just an introduction to a brief historical survey of religious trends.
At any rate, the quote (which was quoted from a document dated around 1400AD):
“Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached”.
Consider the premise of the quote. It’s interesting that the quote mentions the violent nature of Mohammed’s teachings. So, of course, this little quote caused a stir around the world. And why is? Well, to some, they believe that the quote was disparaging to their holy prophet, and therefore, they are commanded to violently impose justice on the situation. Do you see the irony?
The very people who are clamoring about the terrible nature of the comment are the very ones that are proving its validity. Perhaps logic need not apply, but this obvious point has been missed in every news story or report I’ve read. Why won’t someone just come out and say, “Isn’t it interesting that your very response to the quote proves the premise of the quote?”
I guess someone has now… What do you think?

If you could choose one of the two following options, which would you choose?
1) To be beautiful / handsome, but also rude and mean.
2) To be ugly, but also generous and loving.
I think our “official” and verbal answer would be much different than how we answer it with our day-to-day deeds.
What do you think?

I used to dream of the day when I could serve God by giving money away. I could give to this project or that project, I could help build buildings and do all of these cool things because I had the finances to give. I could even be involved with missions without getting my hands dirty. Neat, right?
But I figure that is a sad and ever-present perspective of Christianity. I wanted to work hard, get a bunch of nice things, build up my cash hoard, and then start following Christ’s commands. That way I could have my cake and eat it too.
And this comes back to an intrinsic human desire to keep as much power as possible. We want to be in control of our situations—we don’t want to give that power away. And by doing so, we miss out on so many good things in life. I wanted to give God glory in a financial way, and that was bad.
Why was that bad? It’s simple: I wanted to give God only parts of my life. This is going to sound controversial (especially to all of you who have heard sermons on tithing recently)—God doesn’t want your money. He doesn’t need it—He can get it from wherever He wants. And in spite of the fact that God has everything He could ever need or imagine (He’s perfect, you know), God still wants you.
He’s not interested in sections A and B of Andrew. He wants all of Andrew. And the funny thing is, when He has all of me, He’s going to get my time, my relationships and my money. It seems as though I was trying to barter with God over something I had no control over: my life. I wanted to section it off and offer up the friendly parts and times pleasing to me. And God simply said, “No, I’ll take it all.”
And with all of that, the phrase Carpe Diem rings even more true. “Seize the day” is how we should live, (I think David said something like that in Ps 118) not “I’ll save up and then do good stuff tomorrow.”
Of course, the question now is, “What do I do to serve Lord now?” I don’t necessarily believe the answer will cause me to travel to the wilds of Africa, but it should affect my day-to-day life. And that could be an interesting journey.

Abu Musab al-Zarqawi died yesterday after two 500 pound bombs were dropped on his safe-house (not so safe, huh?). I learned of this as I programmed my DVR this morning.
My first reaction was, “Sweet! We finally got the murderer and instigator. It’s about time.”
The reaction was unmitigated joy. Complete and total excitement at the death of a human being. And I thought, “How in the world can I be so calloused–I mean, this man died and is going to hell. And I’m cheering about this?”
So mainly I wonder how do I temper my joy at the punishment of evil men while not forgetting that we are all evil men, deserving to die? Or should I just be glad that he’s gone–never to kill anyone else? I never want to get to the point where I can enjoy the deaths of people–but of all the people to be joyful about, al-Zarqawi seems to be in the top ten.
What is the correct mix between gracy, mercy and justice? And what should my reaction be?