I’m spending a week in the mountains teaching at Redwood Christian Park. Folks have been meeting up here every summer since the late 1940s. In fact, I had breakfast this morning with a man who told me he became a Christian here in 1951. He’s only missed three or four years since then!

We truly live in amazing times. Here I sit at a campsite that’s more than half a century old, beneath a canopy of towering redwood trees that are probably ten times older than that.

And I have a wireless internet connection.

The sad thing is there are some folks here who seem to prefer living in their virtual world to exploring the actual world just a few steps away from them.

But commentary on that topic will have to wait for another time. Today I want to pick back up on this idea of expanding our concept of salvation. As I’ve said here (and thanks for all the comments), I believe salvation must begin to include more than just living in heaven when we die. We must reconnect salvation with the Kingdom of God – which isn’t here in its fullness yet but is constantly breaking through this old world and advancing already in the here and now.

But Frank Bellizzi (Hey, Frank, I’m up here with another Yalie – a Dr. Lawson Stone who teaches Old Testament at Asbury Seminary and is actually a distant relative of Barton W. Stone) brought up another interesting point: We must not separate Jesus the Savior from Jesus the Lord.

I’ve heard this consistently from people I respect – this notion that you can accept Jesus as your Savior and postpone surrendering to him as Lord. In fact, now that I think about it, I may have actually said as much myself from time to time.

But I’m rethinking that position.

God has raised Jesus up and exalted him to the highest place. God (the Father) has made Jesus (the Son) Lord. There’s no getting around that. It is from that position of Lordship that Jesus with executive authority and supreme power now bestows salvation to us. In other words, if Jesus isn’t Lord, he can’t be Savior.

So maybe saying “Jesus is Savior” and “Jesus is Lord” is really saying the same thing. Maybe the two could be used interchangeably.

And – this is the part where we get back on task with what we’ve been talking about here for the last few months – Jesus’ Lordship doesn’t just encompass the religious portion of our lives. Jesus is Lord of everything, the whole of our experience, public and private, domestic and vocational, church and civic, evangelism and social activism.

So, here’s my question for you: If Jesus is Lord of all, does he have an opinion on how you vote, why you vote and whether you vote or not? If so, what’s he telling you?

And (bonus question) do you automatically assume that since he’s told you something, he’s trying to tell everyone else the exact same thing?

The Kingdom of God is the reign and rule of God. It broke into this world in a new way through the life, teaching, death and resurrection of Jesus. It confronts, combats and overcomes evil, holistically spreading personal and communal well-being. It takes hold of God’s people, blessing them completely and demanding allegiance from them.

A local church is supposed to be a community of people who live as citizens of God’s kingdom, a model of what a group of people look like when they come together under the reign and rule of God, being rightly related to their Creator and rightly relating to one another for the good of the whole world. It should be a startling alternative to any other community available.

For now we eagerly await a time when this kingdom will be completely fulfilled even while we celebrate those places where it has come and is advancing. At that time in the future when the kingdom is fully consummated, our bodies, our society and our universe will all be renewed. Sin, pain, frustration, anxiety, disease and death will all be forever eradicated. Life characterized by love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control will be our experience for the rest of eternity.

Salvation is a bigger and broader concept than we often communicate.

Why in the world do you think we so often reduce it to being let off the hook for our sins?

We had some great definitions of salvation in response to the last post. Thanks to those of you who were brave enough to play along! I don’t have a completely definitive definition, but these days I like John Stott’s statement:

“Salvation is a radical transformation in three phases, beginning at our conversion, continuing throughout our earthly life and brought to perfection when Christ comes.”

This fits well with the New Testament’s teaching that — in some mysterious way — we already are saved, we are currently being saved and one day we will eventually be saved.

One of the ways Christians have minimized and trivialized salvation is by separating it from the Kingdom of God. We’ve made it sound sometimes as if the two are different things entirely, but in the Bible it’s not so. In the Bible, Isaiah 52:7 for example, we read that those who declare the good news (i.e., gospel) of peace are also those “who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns!’”

In other words, wherever God reigns (kingdom), God also saves (salvation).

That this was the common understanding during Jesus’ teaching ministry is made obvious when Jesus told his friends, “How hard it is to enter the kingdom of God” and they responded by asking, “Who then can be saved?” (Mark 10:24-26).

They equated entering the kingdom with being saved.

But if salvation means entering into God’s Kingdom, well, that’s a much bigger and broader concept than we tend to discuss during the altar call on Easter Sunday.

So, if salvation means entering into the Kingdom of God, maybe we should talk about exactly what that is. Anyone want to take a shot at that?

What is the Kingdom of God?

Back in April I opened a can of worms around here talking about Christians and politics and the government. There was much discussion over whether or not any involvement would ever be appropriate.

I think Christians should be involved — if for no other reason than because we bring a different kind of thinking to the party (regardless of which party we’re in).

After we batted that idea around a while, we started talking about what it is that makes Christian thinking distinctive (or at least how Christian thinking ought to be distinctive), and so far we’ve looked at three big ideas: Theology proper; Anthropology; Christology.

But wait…there’s more!

Let’s talk about Soteriology for a little while.

Soteriology is the doctrine of salvation, and there’s a near-constant tendency to reduce salvation down to much less than it actually is. We talk about it sometimes like it’s nothing more than a free ticket to heaven or a self-improvement program. Sometimes we sound like salvation is just the forgiveness of our sins or some private mountain-top experience with no real-world application.

But if we believe that humans are more than souls, more than bodies, more than communal beings — if we believe that humans are actually all of those things (plus probably a little more), then salvation has to include all of those dimensions. Salvation has to have spiritual, moral and social consequences.

It seems like we talk about this every now and then here on this blog, but if something’s worth remembering it’s worth repeating, right?

So, let’s see what kind of response this generates: What is salvation?

Let’s recap, shall we?

We started this train of thought by saying that God is not just interested in “spiritual” things; he’s interested in everything. We also said that God is also not just interested in “his” people; he’s interested in everyone. Finally, we said that God is not just a God of mercy and compassion; he’s a God of justice, too.

Then we said that people are worthy of honor, respect and dignity. Christians feel compelled to help others — not simply out of obedience and not simply because we want to imitate Jesus. Humans, created in the image of God, are actually worthy of our attention and assistance. Granted, they are fallen, and that image of God has been marred almost beyond recognition. But it’s still there, and that makes people incredibly valuable regardless of their contribution to society through mental or physical capabilities.

Oh, we also noted that humans are more than just bodies — so they need more than just physical assistance. They are more than souls — so they need more than just spiritual help. They are more than just social/communal beings — so they need more than just relational help. They are all of these things and then some — so they need assistance of all kinds.

Lately, we’ve looked specifically at Jesus and the way he reached out to hurting people in need of help. He left behind privilege and comfort, safety and security to put himself in harm’s way on behalf of others. He sacrificed and endured discomfort for the greater good of enabling and ennobling humanity.

This is all well and good so far. It’s good to take some time periodically and think through this kind of stuff. And it all sounds great. But to this point it’s all just theory.

What would it look like to put this all together and actually do something about it?

Each generation must struggle with the person of Jesus. They must put in the hard work of trying to figure out language to present him in ways that will make sense to their culture. In my own lifetime I’ve seen presentations of Jesus as a traveling mystic, a socialist, a capitalist, a superstar, a homeless man, a family man, a revolutionary, a king, a pauper and a clown. I’ve seen Rock Star Jesus, Breck Girl Jesus, Che Guevara Jesus, Superman Jesus.

There’s one guy going around these days giving a particularly macho version of Jesus. He says Jesus must be some sort of bad*** because, “I can’t worship a guy I can beat up.”

That seems like a really dumb thing to say about a Savior who came to earth precisely to be beaten up on our behalf. But that’s not my point here.

Some of this is to be expected. Jesus was, if you examine the Gospels, a paradox, an enigma, a perfect blend of seemingly contradictory characteristics. He was perfectly righteous without a trace of self-righteousness. He was Lord of all and Servant of all (perhaps we could even say he was Lord of all because he was Servant of all).

As much as Christians like to talk about the Christmas story, I fear we may have neglected the theological implications (and, thus, the practical, ethical obligations) of the Incarnation.

Think of it: The Son of God did not stay safely ensconced in heaven. Rather, he emptied himself of his glory and humbled himself. He became tiny and weak and vulnerable, entering into the human condition with all of its pain and alienation and temptations. He did not merely preach good news, he demonstrated it by healing the sick, feeding the hungry, forgiving the sinful, touching the untouchable, paying attention to the marginalized, lifting up the downtrodden and raising the dead.

He told his friends that he hadn’t come to be served but to serve others and give his very life to pay the price that would secure the release of countless captives who were otherwise helpless. He allowed himself to become the victim of the most terrible injustice imaginable, and as the legal system failed him and put him to death he prayed forgiveness over his enemies.

This is how the Father sent Jesus: out of his comfort zone, our of his security, into the pain of others, into the messiness and clutter, into the rough-and-tumble of everyday life.

And then he looked at his friends and said, “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you” (John 20:21).

So, you tell me: What might it mean to be sent like Jesus?

What I’ve been attempting to do for the past couple of weeks here is show that when it comes to resolving social and political issues, the thinking of Christians ought to be distinctive from other perspectives in our world. After all, as we’ve seen, God isn’t just interested in “spiritual” things; he’s interested in everything. He’s not just interested in “his” people; he’s interested in everyone. He’s not just a God of mercy and compassion; he’s also a God of justice.

This sets Christianity at odds with most other philosophical and theological mindsets — which tend to stress one extreme or the other.

After we talked about God, we talked about humans (which is the appropriate order). I said that, because humans are created in the image of God, they are worthy of respect and honor — simply by virtue of their humanity — not because of anything they have done or might do.

This sets Christianity apart from naturalism or Darwinism because the origins of humanity lead naturally to dignity. We ought to have compassion and show mercy on the weaker members of our world rather than allowing the process of natural selection to weed them out of the gene pool. I’m not saying that believing in naturalism or Darwinism leads inevitably to the Nazi death camps. I’m just saying that when Nazi death camps arise, naturalism and Darwinism don’t really offer much of a rationale to stop.

I should also add that Christians aren’t to reduce humans to merely souls — so our work cannot be simply about evangelism. Nor should Christians think of humans as merely bodies — so our work cannot be simply about relief and physical comfort. Finally, Christians should not think of humans as just social beings — so our work cannot be simply about social reform. The distinctively Christian view of humanity is that we are all soul/body/community simultaneously. Thus, our work should be for the betterment of all three of those spheres.

So, our theology proper (understanding of God) sets us apart. And our anthropology (understanding of humanity) sets us apart. But you can’t have anything distinctively Christian without mentioning Christ.

Oh yeah…Jesus.

One time, near the end of his time here on earth, Jesus said to his closest friends, “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you” (John 20:21).

What do you suppose that means?