Love Orients Us toward the End Goal

As Blaise Pascal put it in his famous wager: “You have to wager. It is not up to you, you are already committed.” You can’t not bet your life on something. You can’t not be headed somewhere. We live leaning forward, bent on arriving at the place we long for.
 
The place we unconsciously strive toward is what ancient philosophers of habit called our telos—our goal, our end. But the telos we live toward is not something that we primarily know or believe or think about; rather, our telos is what we want, what we long for, what we crave.
 
To be human is to be animated and oriented by some vision of the good life, some picture of what we think counts as “flourishing.” And we want that. We crave it. We desire it. This is why our most fundamental mode of orientation to the world is love. We are oriented by our longings, directed by our desires. We adopt ways of life that are indexed to such visions of the good life, not usually because we “think through” our options but rather because some picture captures our imagination.
 
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, the author of The Little Prince, succinctly encapsulates the motive power of such allure: “If you want to build a ship,” he counsels, “don’t drum up people to collect wood and don’t assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.” We aren’t really motivated by abstract ideas or pushed by rules and duties.
 

- James K. A. Smith, You Are What You Love: The Spiritual Power of Habit, 2016.

Love is A Virtue

If we think about this in terms of the quest or journey metaphor, we might say that the human heart is part compass and part internal guidance system. The heart is like a multifunctional desire device that is part engine and part homing beacon. Operating under the hood of our consciousness, so to speak—our default autopilot—the longings of the heart both point us in the direction of a kingdom and propel us toward it. There is a resonance between the telos to which we are oriented and the longings and desires that propel us in that direction—like the magnetic power of the pole working on the existential needle of our hearts. You are what you love because you live toward what you want.

If you are what you love and if love is a virtue, then love is a habit. This means that our most fundamental orientation to the world—the longings and desires that orient us toward some version of the good life—is shaped and configured by imitation and practice. Then discipleship is a rehabituation of your loves. This means that discipleship is more a matter of reformation than of acquiring information. The learning that is fundamental to Christian formation is affective and erotic, a matter of “aiming” our loves, of orienting our desires to God and what God desires for his creation.
 
Calibrating the Heart: Love Takes Practice
 
If the heart is like a compass, an erotic homing device, then we need to (regularly) calibrate our hearts, tuning them to be directed to the Creator, our magnetic north. It is crucial for us to recognize that our ultimate loves, longings, desires, and cravings are learned. And because love is a habit, our hearts are calibrated through imitating exemplars and being immersed in practices that, over time, index our hearts to a certain end. We learn to love, then, not primarily by acquiring information about what we should love but rather through practices that form the habits of how we love. These sorts of practices are “pedagogies” of desire, not because they are like lectures that inform us, but because they are rituals that form and direct our affections.
 

- James K. A. Smith, You Are What You Love: The Spiritual Power of Habit, 2016.

 

You Are What You Love (2)

Paul’s remarkable prayer for the Christians at Philippi in the opening section of his letter to them: “And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God” (Phil. 1:9–11). Notice the sequence of Paul’s prayer here. If you read it too quickly, you might come away with the impression that Paul is primarily concerned about knowledge. Indeed, at a glance, given our habits of mind, you might think Paul is praying that the Christians in Philippi would deepen their knowledge so that they will know what to love. But look again.
 
In fact, Paul’s prayer is the inverse: he prays that their love might abound more and more because, in some sense, love is the condition for knowledge. It’s not that I know in order to love, but rather: I love in order to know. And if we are going to discern “what is best”—what is “excellent,” what really matters, what is of ultimate importance—Paul tells us that the place to start is by attending to our loves. There is a very different model of the human person at work here. Instead of the rationalist, intellectualist model that implies, “You are what you think,” Paul’s prayer hints at a very different conviction: “You are what you love.”
 

- James K. A. Smith, You Are What You Love: The Spiritual Power of Habit, 2016.

You Are What You Love (1)

What do you want? That’s the question. It is the first, last, and most fundamental question of Christian discipleship. In the Gospel of John, it is the first question Jesus poses to those who would follow him. When two would-be disciples who are caught up in John the Baptist’s enthusiasm begin to follow, Jesus wheels around on them and pointedly asks, “What do you want?” (John 1:38).
 
It’s the question that is buried under almost every other question Jesus asks each of us. “Will you come and follow me?” is another version of “What do you want?,” as is the fundamental question Jesus asks of his errant disciple, Peter: “Do you love me?” (John 21:16 NRSV).
 
Jesus doesn’t encounter Matthew and John—or you and me—and ask, “What do you know?” He doesn’t even ask, “What do you believe?” He asks, “What do you want?” This is the most incisive, piercing question Jesus can ask of us precisely because we are what we want. Our wants and longings and desires are at the core of our identity, the wellspring from which our actions and behavior flow. Our wants reverberate from our heart, the epicenter of the human person. Thus Scripture counsels, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it” (Prov. 4:23). Discipleship, we might say, is a way to curate your heart, to be attentive to and intentional about what you love.
 
So discipleship is more a matter of hungering and thirsting than of knowing and believing. Jesus’s command to follow him is a command to align our loves and longings with his—to want what God wants, to desire what God desires, to hunger and thirst after God and crave a world where he is all in all—a vision encapsulated by the shorthand “the kingdom of God.”
 
Jesus is a teacher who doesn’t just inform our intellect but forms our very loves. He isn’t content to simply deposit new ideas into your mind; he is after nothing less than your wants, your loves, your longings. His “teaching” doesn’t just touch the calm, cool, collected space of reflection and contemplation; he is a teacher who invades the heated, passionate regions of the heart. He is the Word who “penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit”; he “judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart” (Heb. 4:12).

Our Approaches to Discipleship 

To follow Jesus is to become a student of the Rabbi who teaches us how to love; to be a disciple of Jesus is to enroll in the school of charity. Jesus is not Lecturer-in-Chief; his school of charity is not like a lecture hall where we passively take notes while Jesus spouts facts about himself in a litany of text-heavy PowerPoint slides. And yet we often approach discipleship as primarily a didactic endeavor—as if becoming a disciple of Jesus is largely an intellectual project, a matter of acquiring knowledge. Why is that?
 
Because every approach to discipleship and Christian formation assumes an implicit model of what human beings are. While these assumptions usually remain unarticulated, we nonetheless work with some fundamental (though unstated) assumptions about what sorts of creatures we are—and therefore what sorts of learners we are. If being a disciple is being a learner and follower of Jesus, then a lot hinges on what you think “learning” is. And what you think learning is hinges on what you think human beings are. In other words, your understanding of discipleship will reflect a set of working assumptions about the very nature of human beings, even if you’ve never asked yourself such questions.
 
While we might never have read—or even heard of—seventeenth-century French philosopher René Descartes, many of us unwittingly share his definition of the essence of the human person as res cogitans, a “thinking thing.” Like Descartes, we view our bodies as (at best!) extraneous, temporary vehicles for trucking around our souls or “minds,” which are where all the real action takes place. “You are what you think” is a motto that reduces human beings to brains-on-a-stick. Ironically, such thinking-thingism assumes that the “heart” of the person is the mind. “I think, therefore I am,” Descartes said, and most of our approaches to discipleship end up parroting his idea.
 

- James K. A. Smith, You Are What You Love: The Spiritual Power of Habit, 2016.

Grasping God's Word

 Here is a quick review of the items to look for during bible reading:
 
1. Repetition of words – Look for words and phrases that repeat.
2. Contrasts – Look for ideas, individuals, and/or items that are contrasted with each other. Look for differences.
3. Comparisons – Look for ideas, individuals, and/or items that are compared with each other. Look also for similarities.
4. Lists – Anytime the text mentions more than two items, identify them as a list.
5. Cause and effect – Look for cause-and-effect relationships.
6. Figures of speech – Identify expressions that convey an image, using words in a sense other than the normal literal sense.
7. Conjunctions – Notice terms that join units, like “and,” “but,” “for.” Note what they are connecting.
8. Verbs – Note whether a verb is past, present, or future; active or passive; and the like.
9. Pronouns – Identify the antecedent for each pronoun.
10. Questions and answers – Note if the text is built on a question-and-answer format.
11. Dialogue – Note if the text includes dialogue. Identify who is speaking and to whom.
12. Means – Note if a sentence indicates that something was done by means of someone/something (answers “how?”). Usually you can insert the phrase “by means of” into the sentence.
13. Purpose/result statements – These are a more specific type of “means,” often telling why. Purpose and result are similar and sometimes indistinguishable. In a purpose statement, you usually can insert the phrase “in order that.” In a result clause, you usually can insert the phrase “so that.”
14. General to specific and specific to general – Find the general statements that are followed by specific examples or applications of the general. Also find specific statements that are summarized by a general one.
15. Conditional clauses – A clause can present the condition by which some action or consequence will result. Often such statements use an “if … then” framework (although in English the “then” is often left out).
16. Actions/roles of God – Identify actions or roles that the text ascribes to God.
17. Actions/roles of people – Identify actions or roles that the text ascribes to people or encourages people to do/be.
18. Emotional terms – Does the passage use terms that have emotional energy, like kinship words (“father,” “son”) or words like “pleading”?
19. Tone of the passage – What is the overall tone of the passage: happy, sad, encouraging, and so on?

- J. Scott Duvall & J. Daniel Hays, Grasping God's Word: 

A Hands-On Approach to Reading, Interpreting, and Applying the Bible, 2016

Contextualization in Preaching

Contextualization in preaching is communicating the gospel message in ways that are understandable or appropriate to the listener’s cultural context. In other words, contextualization is concerned with us and now.

Some preachers spend more time reading and meditating on our contextual setting than we do on God’s Word. We get caught up in sermonizing about our world or city in an effort to be relevant. As a result, we settle for giving shallow impressions of the text. We forget that the biblical text is the relevant word. It deserves our greatest powers of meditation and explanation.

To put it differently, the preacher is bound to miss the mark of biblical exposition when he allows the context he is trying to win for Christ control the Word he speaks of Christ. As I stated in the introduction, this is the undoing of many of our churches. Too many of us unconsciously believe that a well-studied understanding of our cultural context, rather than the Bible, is the key to preaching with power. 

Blind adherence to contextualization alters our preaching in at least three ways, and none of them is for the better. 

First, it impairs our perspective in the study—in his preparation of his sermon, the preacher becomes preoccupied with the world rather than God’s Word. This leads to impressionistic preaching. 

Second, it changes our use of the pulpit—the Word now supports our intoxicating plans and purposes, rather than those of God. This is inebriated preaching. 

Finally, it shifts our understanding of authority—the preacher’s “fresh” and “spirit led” devotional reading becomes the determinative point of truth. I call this “inspired” preaching.

You are looking for things that you know will make an immediate impression upon your listeners. You begin enjoying this momentary diversion. The work is not hard. Soon a main idea emerges. You contextualize well since, just like your congregation on Sunday, you are not that passionate about things historical. In fact, you got this job, in part, because they were impressed with how well you produced attention-grabbing messages from the otherwise inaccessible ancient realism of biblical scenes. A detailed study of the text can wait.

This is impressionistic preaching. 

It happens a lot. In fact, it may be the most significant problem facing preachers today. Impressionistic preaching is not restrained by the reality of the text. It ignores the historical, literary, and theological contours of the text. It brushes past—in a matter of minutes—many of the exegetical tools you spent time developing. Where the realist painter might look at his object ten times before painting a single stroke, the impressionist looks at his text once and puts ten strokes on the canvas of human experience. So, too, the impressionist preacher. 

-  David R. Helm, Expositional Preaching: How We Speak God's Word Today

民主转型与民主困境

政体要么民主要么不民主？这是政体类型的经典两分法，这种两分法在1974年启动的第三波民主化之前并无大碍。但是，第三波以来的重要现象是出现了大量的“两不像政体”（hybrid regime）。这一现象国外已经有较多研究，国内学界对此介绍较少。“两不像政体”顾名思义，就是既非标准的威权政体，亦非标准的民主政体，而是介于两者之间。其常见特征是：主要行政长官和议员通常由定期选举产生，普通选民的投票能发挥实际作用，选举过程中存在不同力量的政治竞争；但是，这些国家的选举过程并没有做到自由和公正，通常存在不同程度的选举舞弊和欺诈，当选的执政者则常常利用行政资源压制反对派和媒体，进行各种政治操纵，甚至为一己之私而推动修宪。正因为这些特征，国际学界通常把“两不像政体”视为威权色彩浓厚的政体类型。借助这一概念，大家就更容易理解一些转型国家正在发生的事情。
 
在政治上，宪政本身是无法自我实施的。背后的深层逻辑是，不少人把民主的文本或宪法简单地视为一套可拆卸的政治装置。一旦一个国家安上这套政治装置，该国就变成民主国家或立宪国家了。但实际上，民主的文本或宪法本身不过是几张纸而已。民主的文本或宪法能否生效，能否运转起来，以及能否运转得好，全赖实际的政治过程，全赖主要政治力量的所作所为，全赖政治家的领导力与选择。所以，民主这套政治装置究竟怎样，不仅取决于这套政治装置本身，更取决于安装和操作这套装置的人。
 
搞好民主的复杂因素
 
民主搞不好的直接问题是不会搞民主。民主要搞好，既涉及一套基于民主文本和宪法条款的制度安排，又涉及政治精英和主要政治力量的信念与行为，还涉及最初的民主实践能否常规化、惯例化与稳定化。这里的任何一个方面要搞好，都太不容易。转型困难国家的一个重大挑战，是此前的旧政体没有给新政体留下多少有利的遗产，反而是留下了很多沉重的包袱。一位美国学者在评价埃及转型时这样说：“对民主而言，威权政体是一所糟糕的学校。”以埃及为例，复杂的教派冲突、政治上强势的军队、缺乏充分民主信念的精英阶层、落后的经济社会状况都是转型的阻力，当然也都是政治搞不好的原因。但是，这些问题没有一样是民主本身造成的，而都是此前统治的遗产。所以，这样的国家民主搞不好很可能是此前的负资产过于庞大，而不能简单归咎于民主本身的问题。
 
对不少转型国家来说，无法通过民主的方式形成有效的政府能力，是民主搞不好的重要原因。政府缺乏效能的常见情形包括：行政权与立法权的冲突、无法形成多数派执政党、议会政党数量的碎片化、政治领导层阶层缺乏领导力和政治技巧，以及缺乏功能健全的官僚系统，等等。在保证政治参与和政治竞争的同时，民主政府同时还必须有所作为，这样才能维系其民主政体本身。如果民主政府缺乏效能，从消极方面讲，政府可能会陷于瘫痪，政治竞争与分权制衡将演变为不同政治家与党派的恶斗；从积极方面讲，政府将无力应对重大的政治经济问题，无法在市场改革与经济发展等关键问题上达成绩效，也就无法通过提高新政体的绩效合法性来强化程序合法性。有民主而无效能，终将损害民主本身。

- 包刚升，《被误解的民主》，2015