It looks so good on paper doesn't it? People realizing in the 5 points of Calvinism that they have absolutely no ground to boast in other than the fact that God, for some reason, set his sights and love on them. This fact alone should point straight towards humility.
However, often the reformed are known to be bible-knowledgeable blowhards who hit people over the side of the head with the good book rather than living and loving in light of their professed beliefs. It baffles me that the people who understand God's grace the most, atleast in their minds, show it the least. Here's my beef with the reformed.
1.) Some end up becoming the very adjective that they should despise: religious. Yuck. I hate religion. Religion says "behave or God won't love you". The gospel says "God loves you and if the Spirit is in you, you are finally free to live, that is, to love and serve God. The gospel, while showing the wages of sin, ultimately displays love as a motivator. Fear of God is definitely not absent in the Scriptures, but religion uses fear alone- even against born-again Christians. This is theologically wrong and just foolish.
2.) Theological, intellectual snobbery I'm talking about the theological conversation that starts with one person describing their views and ends with the other person saying, "Oh. Well I believe the bible." Do they not understand that "believing the bible" is a pretty complex task. It is a task that is spiritual, intellectual, and philosophically presuppositional. To say, "Oh, I just believe the bible" belies cockiness and a poor understanding of the bible itself. This elitism makes NO sense in the light of the doctrine of Unconditional Election. It's like cocky person bragging about their lack of anything to brag about. I know, it's ridiculous.
3. Coldness Sometimes people just need a hug. I do believe good theology is a necessary foundation for good, lasting relationships, however, sometimes you don't need to quote a bible verse. Sometimes you can just say, "I love you", "you're doing alright", or "Hey, Honey, you look beautiful". This last year I left a church with possibly the best bible-teaching in the country (honestly, and you probably know which one it is). It wasn't theological differences, it was just, for lack of a better word, cold. Members didn't talk to each other. We got floored by the Word and left. Church must be far more than sound theology and good teaching.
That's all I can think of for now. I pray that I never rub Calvinism or any other part of my theology in anyone's face (especially a brother). I won't to be very strong with my convictions but when discussing I want to simply show my case from the bible in humility.
If you've got different beef (or beef with my beef), then leave a comment.
Alright, so here's where I'm coming from: I'm just going to get this out of the way. My theology over the last year has been becoming more and more reformed. I love the diligence the reformed show in following truth through to whatever end. They hold God and His Word in a higher esteem than cultural or individual sensitivities. I like that- that's what truth should be. I realize that when I say "reformed" some might not know what I mean. Some might know the term but think of it only in its main distinctives (e.g. Calvinist soteriology).
By reformed faith I especially mean:
Centered on God
Based on God's Word alone
Committed to faith alone
Devoted to Jesus Christ
These are based on the 5 "solas" of the reformation.
Sola Scriptura: The Scripture Alone is the Standard
Soli Deo Gloria! For the Glory of God Alone
Solo Christo! By Christ's Work Alone are We Saved
Sola Gratia: Salvation by Grace Alone
Sola Fide: Justification by Faith Alone
For the churched, this is nothing too new. Many creeds are similar to this. The difference between the reformed and the rest lies in the extent that these are followed through in theology and in practice. Luther and Calvin were extremely like-minded. Why Calvin's church has had the staying power that Luther's hasn't is because of that first bullet point. It's based not on a set of traditions, procedures, or creeds: it's center is in who God is- reformed theology is rooted in God Himself.
My view is that people believing reformed theology deep in their heart (not just their head) would be a sort of spiritual utopia: deep abiding joy and humility would abound with a heart-level understanding of the grace of our Lord. In short, I have much respect and much passion about reformed faith. My passion is for God himself to be glorified for the God He is. For God's name to be pulled out of the muck of prosperity and self-help that American Christendom has drowned it in. For people to start to actually understand what the bible says rather than just saying they believe it. O, to see what the Lord would do if we became passionate about truth, grace, love, and above all, Yahweh himself.
Alright, I know I've been posting a bit of video lately but this must go up. I'm jacked. "Crazy Love" (see previous posts) has left an indelible, searing mark on my mind and heart and has made me really consider what I want my life to look like. It struck a chord that no other book has this summer. I am REALLY looking forward to Francis' next book.
My last review reminded me of the sweetest highlight reel I've ever seen. I remember seeing it on ESPN to commemorate the last century. I remember getting chills. Sit back, hit "fullscreen", turn up the volume, and enjoy!
The writing of the book I must preface this review. I walked away from this book wowed- I was moved. However, this was, I'm sad to say, in spite of the author, not because of him. It's not that the facts weren't right or they weren't thorough, it was that the emphases were all wrong. Mark Kriegel knows and love sports. Through the book, this comes out as you get to know, in detail, all the stats, the big games, and the teammates of Pistol Pete. The depth and emphasis of Pete's basketball ability is well-covered.
However, it is very apparent that Kriegel fails to emphasize the psychological importance of Pete's relationship with his father. What also shows is his failure to really understand the mind and moods of Maravich. Finally, it's clear that Kriegel has little to no spiritual interest or knowledge. From this vantage point, Kriegel attempts to give us a biography of one of the most complex, haunted lives in the history of basketball: a life whose epicenter lies on the day he met Jesus Christ. It suffices to say that the highs of finding his Savior and his lows of utter despair aren't truly felt by the reader nearly as much as they could be. This is why simple basketball fans will love this biography (Sports Illustrated called it "The best sports biography of the year") but anyone who is interested in the emotional makeup, the darkness, the anxiety, the family troubles, and the spiritual emptiness that can motivate men, will find this book lacking.
Now, having said that, I must say that in this book I managed to meet Pete Maravich, though I often had to read between the lines and think deeply for myself to get at him. I don't want the review to end here because like I said, I was deeply moved in spite of the author. With the negative behind, I now begin a look at the things I did get from this sad tale with the happy ending as well as the man himself, Pistol Pete. Who was Pete Maravich? Pistol Pete was the most prolific scorer of all time. He averaged 44 points- for his career. Pistol Pete owns the NCAA career scoring record with 3,667 points.
...He did it without a three point line- and he had the best range in the country. It's said that he would have averaged over 50 points a game ...He did it in 3 seasons because freshmen weren't allowed to play varsity. ...Most say it will never be broken
It is arguable that Pete Maravich is the greatest basketball player of all time. Better than Jordan, Bird, and Johnson (all made famous for their championships and the greatness of their teams). Pete never had the luxury of being on a great team. He spent his college career as well as his pro career single-handedly turning entire parts of the country on to a sport that many had never even watched. Both his college and professional arenas would go on to be known as "The House that Pete built". Without Pete and his dad, Press, LSU (and perhaps the entire SEC and maybe even the entire south) might still only be interested in football. Pete's story Press Pistol starts off, and rightfully so, with the most influential man in Pete's life: his dad, Press Maravich. It brings us through his uneventful upbringing and eventually to Press's discovery of a new game sweeping the country: basketball. From their on, his new obsession would carry him from the mill in the area that H.L. Mencken would describe as "the most loathsome towns and villages ever seen by the mortal eye" into the first professional basketball leagues.
Press, who was coincidentally Mike Ditka's basketball coach, was born for basketball- for playing and coaching basketball. Even as a player, everyone knew that it was Press's team. Why did John Wooden go with the high-low post offense after acquiring Lew Alcindor (and before unleashing the greatest dynasty in sports history)? The answer is Press Maravich. "I would go to him first" Wooden would say.
"One should never underestimate Press's knowledge of the game," says Wooden. "over the years he was the one I would go to for analysis on several aspects of the game." At UCLA, Wooden would become the most successful coach in basketball history. He'd win ten national championships and coach nineteen first-team All Americans. Press never got to work with that kind of talent. He only had Pete. (Pistol)
As Press's playing career ended in disappointment, he knew that the Maravich name would be forgotten. Unless... unless his newborn son had anything to say about it...
It's a boy! Pete was born with a basketball in his hands. He'd follow his dad to practice- high school teams and then college. Little Pete always sat on the bench. Yes, right by the head coach. Yes, Division 1 college basketball. Press would make up drills for Pete to practice, which would later become famous. By age six, he was all Press could talk about. He would show off Pete to his players, to Wooden, and to other coaches: and they were wowed. By eighth grade, the 100-pound stringbean was starting varsity. He played for two high schools (as Press would move from his head job at Clemson to coach at NC State), breaking scoring records at each.
This passage is from when Pete was a high schooler, hanging out after his dad's practice and playing against the starters on the NC State team that won the conference.
Passage from Pistol
It had happened earlier that season, over the Christmas break at Reynolds Coliseum. Only a half dozen or so guys were there, but Bill Bradley himself could inspire only a fraction of the awe they felt that day.
They were playing three-on-three. There were four starters: Coker, Lakins, Worsley, and Tommy Mattocks. There was Les. Pete made six. "We loved to play against Pete," Lakins would recall. "he was the coach's son. Coach worked our tails off. That was our only retaliation."
They bellied him. They pushed him. They shoved him. They hit him. "We were beating the shit out of him that day," says Coker.
Then again, none of the corporeal punishment made any difference. Whatever Pete threw up came down through the net. There were jump shots, hook shots, set shots, bank shots, left- and right- handed shots, driving shots, and shots that seemed to come all the way from Guilford County. The game went on for hours, as each player took his turn trying to guard Pete. None of them could. ... He had never seen the kid like this: the way he was taunting starters on an ACC championship team, teasing them with that high yo-yo dribble. And then, as soon as you lean or lunge, you're embarrased, he's gone. ... Everything about this boy's game was funky and flagrant. He went behind the back, over the back, between his legs, between your legs. Then there was that pass with English on it, the one that bounced of the floor at an absurd angle. Years later a basketball writer would liken the ball's movement to something that came off a pool hustler's cure stick. But the sense of timing suggested the work of an accomplished comedian.
As the game wound down, toward the end of its third hour, Pete invented a shot. He was fading to the deepest corner. The stairs to the dressing room, just beyond the court, led down from the court level. "Going down," Pete called, as he threw up a high, arcing hook shot. He didn't stop to watch it swish through the net. He didn't even break his stride. He just kept going, right on down to the locker room.
Coker and Les ambled over to the bench and sat, speechless, shaking their head, wondering if the show they had just seen- the finale of which they would call the "going down shot"- had just happened. Finally, Coker spoke: "Les, you ever see anything like that?"
Les shook his head no. "I think that was the best performance I've ever seen." Coker wasn't arguing. "I think he might be..." Les was nodding now. "Might be the best who ever was."
Pete in College Pete would go on to play at LSU, one of the worst basketball schools in the country, with his father coaching. His freshman year he could not play varsity because of NCAA regulation so the 5:30 p.m. freshman game would sell out- attracting thousands. When the varsity started at 7:30, the gym would be empty again.
As he made it to varsity, of course, Pete became an icon- overpacking every arena he played in for three years. This was in the south where basketball was hardly considered a sport next to football. His team was usually just above mediocre, but Pete was reinventing the game... and breaking every NCAA scoring record while doing it.
Now, however, Pete was a national star- and something dark and ominous was starting to show in the young man. Beneath the prodigy, and more, genius, was a discontent forged from a lifetime of pressure. Pete began to deal by drinking heavily. Of course, he could still hit his average (44!) hungover, but he was not healthy.
NBA His NBA career includes the spotlight which was always on the Pistol and the struggles through injuries, alcohol, and serious anxiety and depression. The great Jerry West said, there was "probably more pressure on Maravich than on any rookie in the history of professional sports." Pistol documents Pete's ups (like when he put up 68 against 4 hall of famers, two of them on the all-defensive team) and his downs (alcohol and depression), his worsening condition and short career that he still managed 15,000 points in. The book portrays a desperate man, looking for escape through alcohol, vegitarianism, the extra-terrestrial, gardening, reincarnation, yoga, and even Pong.
Life and Death Finally, after Pete's early retirement, Kriegel eventually brings the reader to that night in February 1982 where his life changed forever. At 5:40 a.m. after a night of sweating through a lifetime of memories, Pete Maravich asked God to forgive him. "Save me. Take me." The Lord, in his providence, spoke to Pete Maravich. He was born again. The deep sadness in his eyes disappeared. He was different man.
His famous death in the arms of James Dobson on a basketball court many call too crazy to be coincidence. After the doctors found what was wrong, a defect in his heart, they determined that he should have died before the age of twenty.
Thanks, Pete To the man who Magic "Showtime" Johnson called "the original Showtime", the hall-of-famer in the top 50 players ever, the scrawny kid who no one could believe was "The Pistol", the tortured genius who changed the way a sport was played, and the innovator 20 years ahead of his time, I simply say, "Hats off, Pete." To me, Pistol Pete Maravich is one of the most interesting characters to walk this earth. I look forward to the day when we meet in heaven- I just don't want to guard him.
"He could have played blind... I hadn't forgotten him. Some people seem to fade away but when they are truly gone, it's like they didn't fade away at all." -Bob Dylan on Pete Maravich
Here's two highlight videos- they had limited video back then, but this offers a taste of Pete on the court. Ultimate Pistol Pete Maravich MIX
The other day my dad held out some food to our dog, Maddie, at the table. Maddie went nuts- she was ecstatic. Once the food was consumed, she quieted down and walked away. I made a comment, and immediately after saw the analogy. I jokingly said, "You ever wonder if she likes you or just the food you give her?".
What would make you feel loved? If your dog loved you for being you, OR if your dog simply enjoyed the food you gave her (not you), and got excited about you simply because she figured out the correlation between you with the things you give. That doesn't feel very loving, does it?
Let's put ourselves in God's shoes. God feels. It isn't too hard to wonder what he feels when all we want is more stuff or different stuff or comfort or some other relationship. I must ask myself, "What do I want more - God himself, or stuff from God?" He loves to give but he hates when the gifts become god in our life. We must always look past the gift to the giver and, as hard as it is, look to the most satisfying thing- more of God, even if it means giving up some of God's things, which it usually does. I'll leave you with a quote from Pipebomb.
"The critical question for our generation—and for every generation— is this: If you could have heaven, with no sickness, and with all the friends you ever had on earth, and all the food you ever liked, and all the leisure activities you ever enjoyed, and all the natural beauties you ever saw, all the physical pleasures you ever tasted, and no human conflict or any natural disasters, could you be satisfied with heaven, if Christ were not there?" — John Piper (God Is the Gospel)
Taken from David Powlison: http://www.boundless.org/2005/articles/a0001827.cfm
Antipsalm 23 I'm on my own. No one looks out for me or protects me. I experience a continual sense of need. Nothing's quite right. I'm always restless. I'm easily frustrated and often disappointed. It's a jungle — I feel overwhelmed. It's a desert — I'm thirsty. My soul feels broken, twisted, and stuck. I can't fix myself. I stumble down some dark paths. Still, I insist: I want to do what I want, when I want, how I want. But life's confusing. Why don't things ever really work out? I'm haunted by emptiness and futility — shadows of death. I fear the big hurt and final loss. Death is waiting for me at the end of every road, but I'd rather not think about that. I spend my life protecting myself. Bad things can happen. I find no lasting comfort. I'm alone ... facing everything that could hurt me. Are my friends really friends? Other people use me for their own ends. I can't really trust anyone. No one has my back. No one is really for me — except me. And I'm so much all about ME, sometimes it's sickening. I belong to no one except myself. My cup is never quite full enough. I'm left empty. Disappointment follows me all the days of my life. Will I just be obliterated into nothingness? Will I be alone forever, homeless, free-falling into void? Sartre said, "Hell is other people." I have to add, "Hell is also myself." It's a living death, and then I die.
The antipsalm tells what life feels like and looks like whenever God vanishes from sight. The antipsalm captures the driven-ness and pointlessness of life-purposes that are petty and self-defeating. It expresses the fears and silent despair that cannot find a voice because there's no one to really talk to. Something bad gets last say when whatever you live for is not God.
And when you're caught up in the antipsalm, it doesn't help when you're labeled a "disorder," a "syndrome" or a "case." The problem is much more serious: The disorder is "my life." The syndrome is "I'm on my own." The case is "Who am I and what am I living for?" when too clearly I am the center of my story.
But the antipsalm doesn't need to tell the final story. It only becomes your reality when you construct your reality from a lie. In reality, someone else is the center of the story. Nobody can make Jesus go away. The I AM was, is and will be, whether or not people acknowledge that.
When you awaken, when you see who Jesus actually is, everything changes. You see the Person whose care and ability you can trust. You experience His care. You see the Person whose glory you are meant to worship. You love Him who loves you. The real Psalm 23 captures what life feels like and looks like when Jesus Christ puts his hand on your shoulder.
Psalm 23 The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil. My cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Can you taste the difference?
You might want to read both antipsalm and psalm again, slowly. Maybe even read out loud. The psalm is sweet, not bitter. It's full, not empty. You aren't trying to grab the wind with your bare hands. Someone else takes you in His hands. You are not alone.
