Exist~Dissolve

It's Really About Us

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 02:27:02 GMT

This year's Blog Action Day topic is all about climate change. Hardly non-confrontational, right? Depending on who you ask, you can get a variety of opinions about this subject. Some will foam at the mouth, ranting about how humans are killing the planet and that we're all going to freeze to death, or burn up...or both. Others, with equal rabidity, will quixotically assert that climate change is a hoax, foisted upon the minds of the gullible by political forces with nefarious agendas.

Who's right? Well, it's a difficult question. We don't exactly have the right kinds of data from which to make accurate predictions about whatever future the current, apparent trends in climate change might bring. Given that we have not had the opportunity to examine the effects of similar conditions on more or less equivalent celestial masses, all of the prognosticating about doom-and-gloom weather models is really quite tenuous. And on the other side of the frenzy, the sometimes intentional distortion of whatever-limited-research-we-do-have does not help provide meaningful answers. Both approaches are not only naive, but in fact are diametrically opposed to actually getting at what is important regarding the discussion of climate change.

How so?

Let's think about this for a second. When people talk about "climate change," they generally try to couch it in language that communicates how this or that action will help or harm the planet. It sounds nice, of course, but let's be clear: it's a lie. How do I know this?

Because no matter who you talk to, if you probe deep enough, far beyond the rhetoric and trite talking points, you'll find that the interest is not REALLY in the planet...it's in us.

Why are we so concerned about the planet? Because we live on it. So it's not really about the planet...it's about out self-focused perspective of life here on it. In all honesty, if we're so BAD for the planet; AND if we're SO concerned for the planet's well-being; then it stands to reason that we should really embrace whatever efforts will most quickly eradicate our species. After all, if the earth has survived 4 1/2 billion odd years until now, coming through asteroid touchdowns, ice ages, and who-knows-what-else, surely a brief stint of increased carbon dioxide levels will not leave too permanent of a mark. Once we've killed ourselves off, the earth will have a few billion good years left to recover...and I think she'll be just fine.

Now you might think this is a silly argument, and in all honesty it probably is. However, I think it highlights nicely the absurdity of the current state of the conversation. On all sides, people with too much emotion, not enough information (not for lack of trying, at that), and WAY too self-focused perspectives use the planet and its well-being as a vehicle for you-fill-in-the-blank-with-whatever.

If we REALLY want to talk about climate change, the first place to start is to cut the crap about the "best interests" of the planet. Unless we manage to blow it up (which would actually be kind of cool to watch...like on the History Channel ...), the earth will probably be around quite a bit after we've finally exterminated ourselves, moved on, or transmuted to another spectral plane. So then, let's just be honest all the way around and say, once and for all, that we care about climate change SOLEY because, like all good humans, we care about saving our own skins.

Therefore, the question remains: what about climate change? I think it's far too soon to tell whether climate change is a helpful or harmful thing. As with most changes, climate or otherwise, there will be winners and losers. But what if we thought about it like this? What if climate change turns out to be a significant evolutionary catalyst for the human species, the breaking point that introduces a significant modification that lets us do things we had never dreamed were possible before? In such a scenario, those who would oppose climate change would be demonized for intentionally trying to prevent the betterment of humanity, while those whose politics, beliefs, and behaviors had introduced the change would be hailed as heroes and saviors. The point is, given our limited knowledge about what climate change REALLY means for the future of humanity (since that is what we're interested in), to speak with such arrogance and fury--as is the current trend--is really the absolute height of absurdity.

So on this Blog Action Day, by all means think, blog, tweet, and talk about climate change. Just be sure that you remember that all your conversations are more than likely NOT about this fairly-pleasant-to-live-on blue and green ball hurtling around the sun, and are MOST ASUREDLY, at the core, about the fleeting moments of life that we're all desperately trying to hang on to. Once we've all figured out our own motivations, then let's talk about climate change.

St. John of the Cross: The Danger of Experiential Worship

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 09:43:36 GMT

I'm currently reading through St. John of the Cross' "The Dark Night of the Soul." In this short book, the 16th century mystic expounds upon his "Songs" which deal with the "dark night of the soul," the period of purgation through which all followers of Christ must come in order to be perfected and united completely in love and purpose with the Divine.

The Songs itself is quite short--only a few stanzas. However, St. John devotes several pages to expounding the meaning of the verses. In his introduction to the concept of the "dark night of the soul," St. John describes some of common barriers that hinder believers from true knowledge of God and precipitate the need for the grand purgation. Two of these hindrances are spiritual voluptuousness and spiritual gluttony...or simplified, the danger of experiential worship.

To John, the con-mingling of the spiritual and physical experience of worship is wholly positive: to be united with God is not just an act of mystical ecstasy, but is rather a way of being that intersects the whole of one's life with that of the divine. The danger of experiential worship, however, arises when the experience of worship--and not God--becomes the thing for which the worshiper desires. He points out that the intimacy of worship surely leaves an indelible mark on the memory--how could it not? However, if one is not careful, the memory of the experience of union with God can unwittingly subvert the pursuit of God in worship:

"When such love (for God in worship) is born of sensual appetite, it works contrary effects; for the stronger the one grows, so does the other grow less, and the memory at the same time; for if this love [for the memory of the experience of worship] increases, it will be instantly seen that we are growing cold in love for God, and forgetting [God] for the sake of the memory..."

As devious as this result might be, St. John still sees a greater danger. Not only can the experience of worship be subtly substituted for true devotion to God, but even more demonically it can become the very criterion by which we adjudicate the value and benefit of worship. If it were not enough that the experience of worship could create misguided motivations, St. John warns that it can become a gluttonous force, consuming every virtue of worship for the sake of perpetuating the experiential memory:

"When people of this sort worship, all they seek is to preserve some experiential relish or sensation, rather than to reverence and worship God with heartfelt humility. And in such sort do they annex this to themselves as a right, that when they have not derived some delight or sensible emotion, they think they have done nothing...and not perceiving that the least of the benefits this Most Holy Sacrament confers is that which touches the senses, and that incomparably the greatest is the invisible gift of Grace..."

The gluttonous danger of experiential worship, to St. John, is ultimately revealed in that we--by virtue of our infatuation with experience and the sensuous--become the ultimate judges of true worship and miss out on the true, divine purposes within worship. While God may desire those that worship in "spirit and in truth," this bent toward experiential memory and sensuous gluttony makes the carnal act of worship the primal mode human/divine relationship.

Does this mean that "experiential worship" is without any virtue whatsoever? Obviously not. St. John recognizes that as humans created in the image of God, our worship will necessarily intersect the experiential--in fact, such "experience" is core to what St. John will expound as the dark night of purgation. However, left unchecked, the trend toward experiential worship can become distorted and corrupted, ultimately becoming a tool of the evil one to deceive and destroy, even through that which is seemingly virtuous. The only hope, then, of unifying the sensuous nature of worship with the true spirit of virtue and humility that God desires is that the human person walk through the ultimate midnight cleansing of the heart, the great purgation of the dark night of soul wherein God brings to perfection the will and desires of the human heart.

The Discipline of Giving

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 07:25:40 GMT

(Thanks to Kevin for the inspiration!)

This Sunday's message was about money. Yep, pretty exhilarating, right? I mean, who doesn't LOVE to sit through half-an-hour-or-so of hearing someone speak at you about how you should give more, how giving money is an act of worship, how you really will be blessed-in-spite-of-the-recession...blah-blah-blah, right?

We've all sat through these messages before. We've all heard how only 3% of Americans Biblically tithe 10% of their income, and of course that means that you, me, and the person sitting in front of us are not in the holy 3%. But we should be thanked nonetheless, right? After all, without the 97% of us backslidden, God-hating heathens, pastors wouldn't have such wonderfully shocking statistics. That counts as some form of giving, right?

In all seriousness, growing up in the church I've sat through an unbearable number of messages about money. I've heard pastors rail against congregations for not giving enough; I've heard others try to coax money out of their parishioners on the promise of God formulaicly responding to their act of generosity and sacrifice; and I've even seen people intimidated out of their money by, let's say, overly enthusiastic ministers trying to mold their listeners into the holy of God through their pocketbooks.

This Sunday was not like the rest.

When I sat down and looked at the message title, I figured I was in for more of the same. Knowing my pastor, it was bound to be good-humored, well-thought-out, and compassionate...nonetheless, I was not prepared for what was about to come.

Now normally, when you're preaching on money, the typical approach is to talk about the BENEFIT of giving. After all, if people already do not give, and given that a lot of people are feeling a financial crunch because of the current economic recession, you have to drop a pretty big carrot to disguise the stick. You know, talk about how God will increase 3, 7 1,000,000 fold what you give--if only you will give. Dig up the prayer of Jabez and try to give it a slant that people haven't heard before (as if!). Or find a collection of random passages in Scripture that talk about God's blessing, rifle through them with some colorful anecdotes thrown in for good effect, and hope a decent percentage are cajoled into dropping some coin before the next service begins. Eat, sleep, repeat.

This message was nothing like this at all. Instead of talking about money and giving in virtual isolation from anything else related to the spiritual life (which is by FAR the most common approach), my pastor formed his central thesis on a very familiar passage:

"No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money." (Matthew 6:24)

Of course, this is a very familiar passage, and I've heard it used dozens of times to frame a messages about money. However, my pastor took a slant on this that I do not think I've ever heard used before.Basically, he structured his argument like this:

If we take the meaning of the passage at face value, Jesus is really talking about money. Money, here, then is not understood as simply a foil for "anything that distracts us from God," as if the passage could be reduced to "You cannot serve both God and ____." Quite to the contrary, Jesus specifically identifies "Money" because, for a variety of reasons, the wealth that we obtain is one of the primary false gods that we craft for ourselves. Put another way, it is a primary way by which we reject God. Understood as such, money is not just one amongst a million temptations competing for our affections; rather it is perhaps rivaled only by self-pride as the greatest dangers to the soul. Because of this, my pastor argued, the logical conclusion is that:

"Giving is a discipline by which we prevent Money from becoming our god."

I was literally blown away when I heard these words. Normally, I'm a fairly unemotional person, especially when it comes to theological discussions. But when the realization of these words sunk in, something welled up inside of me, like the acknowledgment of a great and profound truth, hidden in the simplest of statements.

So why is this statement so profound and truth-telling?

First of all, I think it is a prophetic witness against the "thieves and salesman" (to borrow a line from Derrik Webb) of today's Christian culture that barter the blessings of God to the highest bidder. These charlatans promise miracles, magic formulas, and direct lines of credit with God. To them, money, prosperity, and wealth comprise the domain of God's favor, and they sell themselves as the shepherds and gatekeepers of the holy storehouses. To them, money is morally neutral; a medium of exchange that, while understood as a direct sign of God's blessing (to be sure), is nonetheless incapable of the personification of evil spoken of by Jesus. After all, how can money be a god if the possession of it is, in fact, the very sign of God's blessing to the one claiming to follow Christ?

Contrarily, my pastor's words utterly deny the moral neutrality of money. As Richard Foster powerfully notes in The Challenge of the Disciplined Life , "Money is not something that is morally neutral, a resource to be used in good or bad ways depending solely upon our attitude toward it. Mammon is a power that seeks to dominate us (26)." In such a perspective, the kind of teaching that compels people to seek money primarily as an "end," or realization of God's blessing, leads people dangerously toward, if not all the way to, idolatry. These shepherds guide the sheep into the country of the evil one, thinking that within his dominion they will find God's favor.

But even more importantly, my pastor's words resonated with me because couching "giving" within the confines of "discipline" carefully and thoughtfully avoids turning the act of giving into a pursuit that can end with purely selfish gain. Again, in modern Christian culture, the "prosperity" gospel reigns because not only does it promise riches and blessing beyond the wildest imagination, but it promises them within a very aggressive time line. Give $100, and God will bless you with $1,000 next week, says one huckster. Give $1,000 and God will enrich you ten-fold next month, says another. Promise after promise is made, and each is rooted in the belief that 1.) God will be reciprocal to my giving and 2.) God will be reciprocal to my giving NOW.

By understanding giving as a discipline, however, this false formulaic expectation of God is renounced; giving is done not for what God will reciprocate, but rather as an act of sacrifice and self-discipline. Like the discipline of prayer, is it not pursued so that by becoming a better pray-er I can compel God to answer my prayers more effectively. To the contrary, as the discipline of prayer is practiced solely for the goal of more closely praying God's will, so too the discipline of giving re-orients our understanding of the treasure that we have and the place that is has within the kingdom of God.

By practicing giving as a discipline, we are removed from the temptation of expecting reciprocity from God. By definition, giving will be a sacrifice, and we will not expect God to magically replenish or increase that which we have "lost" through sacrifice. But what will happen is that we will be given new eyes to see that which God has given to us. Instead of a self-focused understanding of that which we have, our letting go of "rights" to our treasure refocuses our priorities and the very orientation we have to money is shifted. No longer a rival god, it becomes a powerful tool through which God's will is enacted in God's kingdom on earth.

A Generosity That Transcends Morality

Sun, 26 Apr 2009 05:11:10 GMT

(Thanks to Kevin for the inspiration!)

In Luke 10, Jesus tells the famous story of the Good Samaritan. In this narrative, the behavior of the Samaritan toward the injured man is juxtaposed with that of the a priest and a Levite to reveal the nature of the message of love which Jesus was teaching, a love which treats one's "neighbor" as oneself.

Obviously, the various facets of this story have been mulled over for countless centuries. However, while listening to a exposition of this passage this weekend, I was struck by something of an interesting idea: that the nature of love and generosity transcends morality.

Let me explain.

Generally, the attitudes of the Levite and priest are characterized quite pejoratively--after all, it is they who walked so callously by the injured man, with seemingly little regard for his life or injuries. While there is certainly a measure of truth to this characterization, I think some other considerations are warranted.

One of these considerations is that these men did not bypass the injured man out of gross neglect or comfortable apathy. In fact, it is quite possible that their hearts were moved to compassion. If this is so, why did they not then act?

Part of the answer may be that their moral systems prevented them. For a priest especially, coming into contact with the injured (or perhaps dead) man would have brought ritual defilement. The priest would have become ritually unclean and would have been unable to perform his normal priestly duties. This would have brought shame and embarrassment, and both he and his entire family would have borne the consequences. So then, perhaps some of their motivation for passing by may have been honest commitments to upholding some system of morality, notwithstanding what we may think of them in hindsight.

Now of course, the natural reaction to such a conclusion is that their systems of morality are simply wrong. After all, what kind of moral system would prevent--actively or otherwise--basic acts of humanity toward another?

Let us not forget, however, the Samaritan was not without his own moral orientation. For hundreds of years, the Samaritans had been religiously, socially and economically oppressed by the Jews. Samaritans and Jewish children were raised to despise and hate one another, and it is said that Jews would often go hundreds of miles out of their way simply to avoid traveling through Samaritan territory. Fast-forward to Jesus' time, and it is clear that the Samaritan more than likely saw the man (who was probably a Jew) as an enemy. For any self-respecting, moral Samaritan, an injured or dead Jew is but a small step toward recompense for a long history of violence and oppression.

So that is the story of our 3 men. All of them have strong moral systems that clearly define their identity in relation to each other and, for the purposes of this story, to the injured man along the side of the road. Each of their moral systems would have held them in the "right" to pass on by, to look the other way. None of their moral systems would have condemned them for not bothering themselves with the troubles of this poor, bloody man.

If this is true, what is it that made the Samaritan stop? What prompted him to load the man on his donkey? What compelled him to seek medical care for the man's wounds, going so far as to put out his own hard-earned money to see that his every need was met?

Despite the rhetorical beauty of it, the reason is not that the Samaritan was an unnaturally moral man, nor that his moral system was somehow superior to that of the priest or the Levite. Quite to the contrary, the truth of Jesus' teaching in this parable is that the Samartian's actions were so exemplary precisely because they transcended the man's moral categories. Here, Jesus is teaching that true, divine love is not bound to the vacillations of human morality--in fact, he teaches that by necessity love must transcend human categories of morality in order for love and generosity to not be corrupted or subverted by the same.

I think this is an important distinction to make. After all, if the premise of this discussion is sound, it is clear how powerful systems of morality can be. For the Levite and the priest, they were strong enough to convince each of them that is was appropriate to leave the man to his death. But the more profound point here is not simply that their systems of morality allowed such an action; the devious nature of these systems is that each of these men went on their way fully justified in their actions. Because they had maintained right standing within their particular moral systems, they could return to their lives in peace and self-assurance, easily putting the man out of their thoughts.

Lest we despise these men for their seeming callousness, we should remember that we are not immune from the same pitfalls. How many places in our cities do we avoid because we do not want to be "morally corrupted?" How many people do we turn away--actively or passively--because our moral "compasses" cause us to look the other way because we don't want to get involved? How often do we withhold our wealth because of pre-moral determinations about how others will use (read "waste) these resources?

No, within each of us are all three men. Without trying, we can easily be the priest and the Levite. We can sleep soundly at night and walk securely through the day, self-justified in our own feelings of morality while the world lies bloodied and dying along the side of the road. However, we can also be the Samaritan. This does not mean that we are thoroughly holy people for whom generosity and love come as easily as breathing. No, it will be a struggle and it will require that we set aside a lot of assumptions we have about the nature of love and morality. But rest assured, just as with the Samaritan, it will transcend every category we'd like to lock around it. True love is revealed, perhaps only when the nature of grace explodes every preconception we have. It is in this moment that the Spirit of divine love is released to do that which we could never do ourselves.

Thoroughly Impressed with ToothandNail Records

Wed, 05 Nov 2008 11:26:47 GMT

Over the last three weeks, ToothandNail records has released 3 tremendously cool albums, all of which reveal just how far ToothandNail has come.

Before the albums, however, let me reminisce :). I've been a fan of ToothandNail for a LONG time. 10 years or so ago, ToothandNail was releasing copious amounts of albums. The one problem: they didn't have the resources for good production or good recording. The result was really cool albums that sounded like crap.

Fortunately, those days are long gone. With the success of many of its roster of bands, ToothandNail has obviously been able to upgrade its recording and production talent. Most of albums coming out of ToothandNail are slick and finished, lacking any remnants of the good old days.

With that said, the albums I've been listening to are as follows:

Emery : While Broken Hearts Prevail

This is really more of an EP, but it's got some seriously cool songs on it. Emery's sound continues to evolve as the band becomes less and less afraid to loosen the tether to their trademark screamo. It worked well for Dead Poetic (IMO), so I think it's a positive for Emery as well.

Ruth : Anorak

My first exposure to Ruth came a week ago when I was browsing ToothandNail's site looking for information about Emery. Reminiscent of bands like This Day and Age and Waking Ashland, Ruth is powerpop all the way through. Nonetheless, they bring some pretty intoxicating melodies (especially on "Nothing to Hide")--great drowning-out-the-dullness-of-work music.

Starflyer 59 : Dial M

I've listened to Starflyer 59 since they began in 1993, and I've always believed that SF's Martin is infinitely more interesting and talented than another Martin of Joy Electric fame...Anyway, Dial M is easily SF's best album to date. Smart lyrics and ridiculously interesting arrangements imbue every song with life and quell the doubts about the relevance of Starflyer to the post-90's music scene.

Seriously, do not waste any more time. Go find these three albums right now. Throw away everything else you have and listen to nothing else for 3 weeks. You will not regret it.

The Face of God in the Poor

Wed, 15 Oct 2008 06:50:21 GMT

Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. - Matthew 25:34

This vision of the kingdom of God reveals an interesting perspective into the identification of the face of God. The scenario is that of the eschatological Christ presented as victor and King. Yet the ones who belong to the kingdom of the Victor are not warriors and statesmen, nor kings and rulers--rather, it is the sick, the impoverished and the oppressed. Yet these are not simply citizens of God's eschatological kingdom by proxy, but are more audaciously the ones with whom God in Christ self-identifies. It is in their faces and lives that God dwells most vividly.

It is often said that God is no respector of persons; and in ways this is probably true. However, the eschatological Christ reveals that the poor and downtrodden have a special place within the life and kingdom of God.

If the poor and oppressed have such a central place in the eschatological kingdom of God, what then should the Christian response to poverty be? Historically, the answer has been varied. At times, the Church has made tremendous outreach toward inclusivity and restoration of the poor and marginalized while, at other times, an unfortunate tendency toward over-spiritualization has resulted in increased oppression and neglect in the name of spreading the gospel.

With either approach, however, the danger is that whether the goal is social good or evangelism, the poor will yet remain "them". Filling bellies and souls is great, but if the impoverished are ever on the outside, the goal of the eschatological kingdom of God is lost.

This is why the early Church was so appealing to the poor and distressed. It was not simply because the people did good things for each other, but because by entering into relationship with the Church, people were welcomed into a community of shared life, acceptance and grace. In this community they found help and life that vanquished the despair and distress of the world around them.

And this is precisely the picture that we find in this vision of God's kingdom. The face of Christ within the poor and marginalized professes that these not only find a special place within the heart of God, but that it is through community with "the least of these" that the kingdom of God is realized. The face of Christ in these calls and compels us all to engage their needs and to welcome them into their lives that we might be incorporated into theirs. As we do, we find that the kingdom of God is realized in us as we embrace the face of God for which we all seek.

A Little Off Subject...

Sat, 30 Aug 2008 12:07:24 GMT

So a coworker and I are always talking about code. Not terribly interesting (especially for people who aren't in the biz...), but sometimes we make ourselves laugh. Yes, I know. I am a huge nerd for finding conversations about code to be funny...

But anyway, the other day we were talking about XHTML validation (you're welcome to start sleeping about right now, if you wish) and how validation fails if there are markup tags that are not "closed" (e.g., a "div" tag that hold an image, text, etc. needs to have a "closing" tag to tell the browser what it's dealing with).

Somehow, the comment was made that life feels like failed XHTML validation--replete with open "tags" of disappointment that never close...

Boy, I made myself bored just writing this. Appartently my line of work is dorky and lame. Oh well.

The Diminution of God's Glory...Possible?

Mon, 11 Aug 2008 07:00:29 GMT

Wow. I haven't posted here since the middle of May.

Well, I've been busy...and whatnot.

For the last several months, I've been extremely busy with my company, Singularity Concepts. I've launched several websites and currently have some "bigguns" in progress.

But for some reason, I've gotten the theology bug recently. So here goes.

The other day, I came across a post talking about problems with Arminian theology. As was once my practice, I jumped into the fray, gunning down the arguments of my Calvinist detractors (not to difficult, but good sport nonetheless). At one point, one of the Arminians actually defended the Reformed view of the atonement, and pointed me to a post somewhere which he believed was a "great" defense of PSA theory from a non-Reformed perspective.

Needless to say, the argument highlighted was terrifically weak and philosophically thin, but one point did pique my interest. One of the fundamental arguments made by the author for his view of atonement is that sin damages God's glory, and that this glory must be restored.

Obviously, this is nothing new. Beginning primarily with Anselm, theologians have thought this way about atonement. Simply, they suggest that in the fall and continuing sinfulness, humanity degrades the glory of God. As God must be glorified, the argument continues, something must be done to restore God's honor. The answer, for whatever reason, follows that punishment of the perpetrators of sin will effect this restoration. So then, the peculiar mystery of atonement is that Christ is able, as the Incarnate God, to not only encapsulate the whole of history's dishonor of God, but is moreover able to vicariously bear the penalty of this, thereby fully satisfying the honor of God and its due requirement for restitution.

Several problems crop up, of course, for this theory. The most disturbing, however, is its view of God's honor and glory.

Consider this. If God is eternally glorious, it stands to reason that the eternality of this glorification concomitantly requires that the amount or level of God's gloriousness is not diminished. After all, if God's glory waned at any moment, God's would seek to be eternally glorified, and would thereby cease to be God. Simple enough.

However, we must go deeper: what is the source of God's glorification? Is it attributed to God by others, or is it self-referential? The former conclusion poses signficant problems, for it requires that that which attributes glory to God exist eternally with God, whereby the glory which accrues to God might be equally eternal with God (for if God is not eternally glorious, God is not eternally divine). If we say that glory is attributed to God by that which is not God, one must posit that that which is not God has existed eternally whereby it might be identified as the source of attribution of God's glory. This, of course, blurs any meaningful distinction between God and that which God has created, creating a thoroughgoing pantheism. So it must be concluded that God's glory is self-referential.

If this is case, however, we must return to the original notation about the eternality of God's glory, e.g., that there is no point at which God's glory is diminished. If the logic of this is understood, then it must be further concluded that there is nothing, either internal or external to God, that can in any way add to or diminish from God's glory. For such a scenario to be possible, one would have to suggest that God's self-referential glory has not be as infinite and eternal as the divine existence toward which it is directed and from which it procedes.

So for discussions of atonement, the notion that God's glory and honor is somehow detracted through human sin must be rejected, for if this is true, we must admit that human sinfulness is capable of diminishing the eternality and fulness of the divine life, even though that which detracts is ultimately dependant upon the former for its primal ontology.

What, then, does this mean? It requires that when we approach an understanding of atonement, it must be recognized that the cross is not "for God." The cross is not a mechanism for filling a deficiency in the divine person, as if something needs to be restored unto God, lest God be understood as incomplete. This is ludicrous, for a God which lacks that which is essential to deity (e.g., eternal glory) is no longer God.