Relational Truth

[Film Clip: The Passion of the Christ — 46:19 - 47:47 (Scene 14)]

"Veritas? Quid est veritas?"

The question Pilate asks his wife Claudia is one we all must ask ourselves. "What is truth?" How we answer this question determines a great deal about what we seek in life.

Perhaps many of us go to college or get otherwise educated in hopes of finding truth. Perhaps it is for truth that we read books, listen to speakers, or debate with friends. No doubt many of us, if we are honest, wish there were no truth; perhaps it is too rigid a proposition or too heavy a load. Some of us see truth as black and white; others as gray; and others as no color at all because we do not believe it exists. I am neither going to define truth nor defend its absolute existence. But I will observe that in the end, we live our lives as though some things are true and others not. At the core of our everyday experiences is an assumption that something, somewhere is true, lest we cease to function. We cannot dismiss truth out of hand, but we may loathe its weight.

Truth should be central to the Christian. If Christians are to be lovers of truth, then no Christian should fear what discoveries may come of science. We need not protect God from his own creation. The project of the Christian and the project of the scientist should be alike, as 'seekers of the truth.' Jesus said seekers will find (Luke 11:9). Yet so many Christians, from Galileo's trial onward, have been afraid to find. Why? Because they have lost sight of the truth. They have forgotten that discoveries of proposition, of the facts and ways of logic and nature, only serve to illuminate the Creator. They have forgotten that the universe's ultimate truth is not a What, but a Who.

That is what we are going to talk about tonight. We're going to talk about the truth central to Christianity, the truth central to Christ, and the truth which I believe is central to human experience. Jesus knew truth to be more than a concept or a set of propositions. He believed truth was the substance of changed lives. Truth was not something static, it was something living; it was inextricably connected to life itself. He said, 'You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free' (John 8:32). Was truth a fact that it could be known? or was it something else? Tonight we are going beyond propositions — we're going to Person — to look at truth as Jesus did.

Relationships matter

Our view of truth and of where it lies determines where we seek it. If I think science is truth, I will be a materialist. If I think enlightenment is truth, I will be a Buddhist. If I think religious law is truth, I will be a Jew. If I think morality is truth, perhaps Mormonism will fit. If submission is truth, then Islam will suit. If wealth and power are truth, I will strive for them like the drowning man strives for air. So what is truth for the Christian?

I was not raised in the church, not unless you count unexamined visits on Christmas or Easter. My hunger was for astronomy; I could hardly get up for breakfast, but I would spring from bed at 4 AM to watch Venus through my telescope as she rose over the trees of the Pacific Northwest. I had a curiosity about the universe, but it didn't connect me to God until I realized that truth might extend beyond stars and planets to other things in life. I read deeply in one religion and the next, curious about God but in no way a Christian. I began to ask myself: what matters most to me? And not to just me, but what matters most to others? What seems to be the driving force behind why people do things? If I were going to invest myself in religion, I wanted it to champion what I felt was most central to my existence. I wanted the thing around which my heart turned to be the thing around which my religion turned. And then it occurred to me: everywhere I looked, the things people wanted most, the things for which they shed tears of joy or despair, were relationships. People would say money or power ruled earth, and they would be right. But relationships — love — would rule if we had our way.

Relationships surround us. They matter dearly to us. How do we spend our Friday nights? With friends? That's relational. What do we do for holidays? We may not like our relatives, but we usually gather with them anyway. The top pop singles right now are, 'She Will Be Loved,' 'This Love,' 'In A Real Love,' 'If I Ain't Got You,' and 'Baby It's You.' Why is the abundance of poems, movies, and songs either about finding love or losing it, about getting laid or getting dumped? Why is sex so powerful — powerfully good or powerfully bad? Why do weddings and funerals break us? It's because relationships are at our core. They are everything. We crave them like food. The cost of war is the cost of expired relationships. Were it not so, war should be an easier wager.

Think back to your high school days. Do you remember your excitement when you discovered your first crush liked you back? Do you recall the pain you felt at losing someone dear to you? Why do we go to church instead of having sermons mailed to us? Why do we start our letters, 'Dear so-and-so' and end them with 'Love, Henry'? Why do some people fear being lonely more than being rejected ... Relationships are everything.

So why do relationships matter so much? I believe it is because we were designed for them. They fit us like clothes. Our ability to feel great depths of joy and sorrow and express them to one another with language pulls us from isolation, through desperation, and into relationship. Relationships matter to us because they matter so much to the very relational God who made us in his image (Genesis 2:18). Why? Why did a relational God make us so relational? The answer is almost disappointingly simple. It is so that we might know him and be known by him. It is for relationship with him that we were made relational. This is the God who said, 'It is not good for man (or woman) to be alone' (Genesis 2:18). The God of the Bible is so relational that he has relationship — intimacy — within himself, in the Trinity.

The Bible as 'relational saga'

The Bible is one long 'relational saga.' Story after story, person after person, time and time again we see that what matters in the Bible are relationships. Let me offer a few examples.

Adam and Eve enjoyed more than just a vague sense of who God was. They walked and talked with him in the garden. He put clothes on them after they came out of hiding. And it wasn't disobedience, as damaging as that was, that caused the Fall. Scripture is full of failures and heartaches, but where a son or daughter returns and says, 'Sorry, Dad, let's get this right,' God receives them. 'Get up,' he says, 'and follow.' No, the Fall was caused by hiding. Hiding prevents restored relationships. Hiding ruins any chance for repentance and receiving grace. Hiding kills the relationship where it lies. It is from hiding that Adam is found pointing fingers at Eve.

How do we hide? We hide behind lies and half-truths. Lying is not sin arbitrarily; lying is sin because it destroys relationships. Satan is called 'The Father of Lies.' He isn't the 'Father of Violence' or 'The Father of Anger.' Lies are more powerful; they cause us to eat apples, to believe what we need is not relational. Lies cause relationships to crumble. Unlike lies, anger and violence are rarely dishonest. They are genuine. With anger and violence there is authenticity. Lies, by definition, can never be authentic. A friend who is true can be angry, but a true friend cannot lie and remain true.

The story of Job is also intensely relational. After his loyalty fails him, he curses God in a refreshingly honest way. He says,

I shout for help, God, and get nothing,
no answer!
I stand to face you in protest,
and you give me a blank stare! (Job 30:20)

Job has an intensely personal relationship with God, one that brings out statements that sound anything but religious. It sounds as if Job is talking to a real person.

In Hosea, God describes himself as the forlorn husband of an adulterous whore. He's at his wits end because his wife (Israel) keeps cheating on him. This is how God imagines himself, as his people's husband! And he won't give up on his wife.

I'll marry you for good — forever!
I'll marry you true and proper, in love and tenderness.
Yes, I'll marry you and neither leave you nor let you go.
You'll know me, GOD, for who I really am (Hosea 2:19-20).

David's experience of God is also intensely relational. After his adultery with the bronze-skinned woman of the rooftop, David's great fear lay not in being discovered — after all, he was King — but in God withdrawing from him. David's fear was relational: it was the childlike fear of being abandoned.

Do not cast me from your presence
or take your Holy Spirit from me (Ps 51:11).

What is interesting about David, though, is that he knew it would be truth that would redeem him. It wouldn't be a set of religious rites, or kind acts to poor people, or sincere self-flagellating self-talk. What kind of truth did David mean? It was a truth that comes from an indwelling relationship.

What you're after is truth from the inside out.
Enter me, then; conceive a new, true life (Ps 51:6).

And finally, relationships mattered dearly to Jesus. He is the one who defied all religious norms about the great YHWH and dared to call God 'Abba.' We should wish for the ears of a first-century Pharisee, that we might hear how shrill and degrading that word 'Abba' sounds. Jesus valued relationships so much that he spent more time walking, talking, eating and drinking with people than he did teaching. His first miracle was at a wedding, his best-known parable was of a party, and his friends were whores, bullies, and fishermen. Jesus himself was accused of being a glutton and drunkard (Luke 7:34). And did you ever wonder why Jesus hangs around for weeks after his resurrection? Maybe it was because he wanted just one more meal with his friends.

Why wasn't Jesus preaching in clean robes from a clean pulpit like the other religious leaders? Because while they were talking about God as a set of rules, a set of propositions, Jesus was out living God in relationships. The entire mission of Jesus was relational. He came to mend our relationship with God by correcting our vision of who God really was, and to relate to us directly as a man. Do we just 'talk at' people, or do we live out God as Jesus did? I'm 'talking at' you right now. That's why going to church doesn't make us Christians. What makes us Christians is living God outside the church.

Do we know the Christian story for the relational story that it is? We had relationship, we ditched it, and then relationship came back to us in a form we couldn't ignore, the form of a man. We tried to get rid of it again, but somehow it stuck, and in the end, that relationship is going to be consummated. Salvation is not a euphemism for 'going to heaven.' Salvation is living a dynamic relationship with the enfleshed truth, in the hereafter and in the here-and-now. Heaven and hell aren't moral endpoints. Heaven and hell are relational. They are continuations of relationships already begun, either with God or with oneself. (C.S. Lewis envisions hell in The Great Divorce as a place where people continually move farther away from their neighbors.) The grave marks no finish line for relationships, but the acceleration of relationships upon trajectories already fixed.

Do we see the true profundity of the Incarnation? The Incarnation was the utmost relational step. In it, God came to us in our form, under our own guise, to relate to us in our time and history, that we might see and touch his flesh, and be convinced by his deeds, his love, his life, and his wounds. The Abba of Jesus is a God that runs down a path for his long-away son (Luke 15:11-32). He chases the one lost and lonely and leaves the ninety-nine behind (Luke 15:1-7). He throws a party for society's outcasts, bums, whores, and sinners (Luke 14:15-24). And still, people like us shrug and say, 'I don't know what God wants from me.' We act like God demands head-hung moral perfection, when God tells us what he wants is relationship (Ps 51:16-17). We think transformation must precede relationship, but we've got it backwards. Jesus said, 'If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching' (John 14:23). We only hear the second part. He's saying if we have a relationship with him, following his teachings will come naturally. He's speaking of cause and effect, not testing us with a guilt trip. We must drop our overbearing sense of duty and start living a relationship with God like we would live it with a person about whom we care deeply. 'Duty' makes for lousy relationships, among people and with God. God did not become a man so that we might have 'duty.' He became a man so that we might have relationship — real relationship, like we have with other people.

Thinking relationally

When we think relationally about God, we illuminate the differences between relationship and religion. If we think relationally about the question, 'Do you practice?', it falls on our ears as ludicrously as asking a mother if she 'practices' mothering, or a husband or wife if they 'practice' marriage. One practices sports or professions, one doesn't practice relationships. But isn't this is how we think and speak of God? If God were something to do, then practicing him should be fine, but who should want to 'practice God?' ... Unfortunately, a great many. In the first century they were called Pharisees.

Let us think relationally about 'faith.' Relationally, faith cannot be just 'belief in.' To believe in something says nothing about relating to it. What if I simply 'believe in' my wife? I come home, I drop my keys on the counter, I grab a beer from the fridge, I pause to think, 'I believe she exists here somewhere.' When she approaches me for a kiss, I lean over and say with a smile, 'You certainly do exist.' Then I go slouching about remembering all the duties she asks of me. 'She exists, so I must take out the garbage. She exists, so I must pick up my socks. She exists, so I must tell others she exists so they can take out the garbage and pick up their socks, too.' Is this any kind of relationship? Yet isn't that how we treat God? We give our cheap tattered intellectual assent, say we believe in God, and then go about our religious duties while God cries, 'Be still and know me!' (Ps 46:10). Knowing God is faith, not just believing he exists. James writes that even demons believe he exists (James 2:19).

Another example is evangelism. Evangelism is not 'telling people about God.' The Greek for 'evangelism' means 'to walk beside.' It is relational. When Jesus said, 'follow me,' he wasn't offering a euphemism for 'follow my teachings,' or 'follow my ways.' He was telling people quite literally to follow him, to take steps after him, to walk beside him, to be with him. Our evangelical mission is to introduce people to Christ that they might fall in love and follow. A choice for Christ under threat of sword or hellfire is a choice sown in fear; it cannot be reaped in love. I think the Crusades scandalize us because no one 'walked beside,' no one was relational.

Another relational term is 'compassion.' But it doesn't mean 'to feel sorry for' or 'to take pity on.' Compassion literally means 'to suffer with.' It is intensely relational. Phrases like 'compassionate conservatism' have lost sight of what it means to be truly compassionate. If you want to have compassion for someone, do not feel sorry for them, do not take pity on them; instead, stoop down, pick up the cross that they bear, and lift it to your own shoulders. That is how Jesus understood compassion. Com • passion — with suffer.

We have all heard of 'faith like a child.' Faith like a child is not synonymous with 'simplistic faith.' Faith like a child is relational faith. Children don't entertain abstract philosophical notions. They aren't consumed with pondering things they've never seen. They are curious about what they can relate to. They treat God like he's a person.

Morality is also entirely relational. When we read the words, 'sin,' 'repentance,' 'forgiveness,' 'reconciliation,' 'grace' ... do we think in moral terms? If we do, we misunderstand why these terms have moral weight in the first place. God is not arbitrary. He commands us to avoid sin because there is no sin that is not relational. Sin is sin because it wrecks relationships. I challenge all of us to find a sin that is not relational. There is no command given that is not for the preservation or restoration of relationships. Of the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:3-17), the first four tell us how to relate to God, the next six tell us how to relate to others. Jesus captures both when he commands that we love God and love our neighbors (Luke 10:27). Are these moral? Or are they moral because they're relational? God commands repentance because repentance restores our relationship with him. He commands forgiveness because forgiveness restores our relationships with others. He overflows with grace because without it, no relationships can survive. We must cease to view our Christian identities as moral ones. Our identities are relational; morality just serves relationship.

The relational question

How are we to be known as Christians? By our morals? Our ethics? Our lifestyles? By the tracts we pass out on airplanes and street corners? No; the world doesn't care. The world won't know we are Christians by these things, they will only know that we are weird. Weird is fine, but the Bible says that Jesus' followers will be known by their love (John 13:34-35). Jesus is saying that we will be known by our relationships. Christians are seen in the way they love; in the way they evangelize by 'walking beside;' in the way they have compassion by 'suffering with;' in the way they forgive, reconcile, and extend grace. Christians must be known in the way they avoid fracturing relationships and engage in mending them. Relational priorities will identify Christians, and the world is famished for relational priorities.

So we must each ask ourselves, 'What kind of relationships am I giving to the world?'

Am I forgiving or demanding forgiveness?
Am I repenting or demanding repentence?
Am I 'walking beside' or 'talking at?'
Am I 'suffering with' or 'taking pity?'
Am I known for my love or for my clean image?
Am I giving myself to my enemies or just to my friends?

If you are anything like me, you are humbled by that list and its illumination of just how weak you are. But Christ is strong, we are works in progress, and God will get us there. But we have to want him to, and we have to risk letting him.

We must start with ourselves. We cannot love our enemy unless we first love God. Do you live in relationship with God? Do you talk to him as you would another person? Do you have bad days and good days with him? Do you share with him your dreams and fears? Are you angry with him as Job was? Are you afraid he will leave you as David was? Do you withdraw to spend time with him as Jesus did? Do you let him romance you as your Hosea? Do you let him sing you his Song of Songs? Or could it not possibly be you he's singing to? ... As Tillich writes, we must begin to accept acceptance.

The question asked us by the Jesus of Scripture is not 'do you believe I exist?' It isn't, 'do you believe in me?' It is much more intense. Many people believe in God, many even in Jesus, but they fail to relate to him. They don't know what he asks. The question Jesus he asks is not for our belief, but for our hand — in marriage. 'Will you marry me? Will you marry your life to mine? Will you marry your goals, your hopes, your dreams, for this life and the life to come, to mine? Will you marry your values, your wisdom, your objectives to mine? Will you marry your thoughts, your deeds, your posessions to me?' God wants a relationship with us as intimate and fulfilling as marriage. A relationship with God can provide things no religion can: intimacy, fellowship, love, acceptance, and ultimately, truth in abundance. These come from a Who, not a What.

Now, we can say 'no', but we must say 'no' to what Jesus is really asking. Jesus will honor our honest answer; but we shouldn't peddle our answer to a question he's not asking. The question is, 'Will you marry me?' Could a question from the God of the Universe be any more relational? any more frightening? any more promising?

Dare to marry

If you find that God is an idea, a concept, a set of rules, a book ... if you find yourself locked in command-keeping and the burden of morals and right-living, then close your eyes, lay down your religion, and allow Jesus to come to you with these words...

I dare you. I dare you to relate to me without expectation. I dare you to treat me as the person I say I am. I dare you to drop your propositions about me, about life, about morality, about God, about truth. The truth sits beside you now, asking for your hand. Draw near to me, as I draw near to you. Know me, as I know you. Marry me, as I marry you.

With your eyes still closed, imagine this scene. The Christian story began in relationship, in a garden. It ends in relationship, at a wedding. You are invited. In fact, you are the bride. You have dirt beneath your fingernails. You have mud in your hair. Your dress is wet and full of holes. Your face is bruised. You don't feel like a bride — you have heard that kind of pillow-talk before. But today you are a bride. With every step down the aisle, your dress whitens, your body washes clean, and your bruises fade. This is how the Bible describes it:

Then I heard the sound of massed choirs,
the sound of a mighty cataract,
the sound of strong thunder:

Hallelujah!
The Master reigns,
our God, the Sovereign-Strong!
Let us celebrate, let us rejoice,
let us give him the glory!

The Marriage of the Lamb has come;
his Wife has made herself ready.
She was given a bridal gown
of bright and shining linen.
The linen is the righteousness of the saints.

The Angel said to me, "Write this:
'Blessed are those invited to the Wedding Supper of the Lamb.'"
He added, "These are the true words of God!"

I heard a voice thunder from the Throne:
"Look! Look! God has moved into the neighborhood,
making his home with men and women!
They're his people, he's their God.
He'll wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death is gone for good.
- Revelation 19:6-9, 21:3-4

Augustine said, 'In loving me, you made me lovable.' Only a Who, not a What, can love. If truth is love, then truth must also be a Who. Jesus said, 'I am the way and the truth and the life' (John 14:6). The Who of truth will always be a scandal to the mind looking for the What. We must embrace relationships as salvation; for indeed, they are one in the same.

Let's see Pilate ask his question again, this time with the face of truth before him.

[Film Clip: The Passion of the Christ — 40:39 - 42:58 (Scene 12)]

Now we are going to see Jesus' answer to Pilate's question. I want you to notice how relational Jesus' words are. But his answer is not just words, it is also action, the action of the Cross. I'm not showing you this clip because I want to tear out your heart or make you uncomfortable. I'm showing it to you because we cannot find Jesus' answer to 'what is truth?' apart from the Cross. The Cross is relational. The Cross and its vindication in the Resurrection turn us from God's enemies into his sons and daughters.¹ On the Cross the unjust becomes justice, the unloved becomes lovable, the unworthy becomes worthy, and the great YHWH becomes Abba. At the Cross, perfect love and perfect justice are forever welded into perfect relationship. This is Jesus' answer to Pilate's question: that he is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

[Film Clip: The Passion of the Christ — 1:35:05 - 1:37:23 (Scene 27)]

¹Romans 5:10-11, 2 Corinthians 6:18, Ephesians 1:5