Kataphatic and/or Apophatic?

Brian McLaren, one of my favorite sages, talks about two ways of thinking about God. Kataphatic tradition experiences God as describable, image worthy, and dealing in certainty. God is our fortress, a burning bush, a potter, a Heavenly Father. God is the same, yesterday, today, and tomorrow: The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want…” (Ps. 23)

Apophatic tradition finds human language and imagery failing. God is a mystery, wholly other, mystical and on the far side of human experience. Silent wonder is faith’s greatest expression: O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgements and how inscrutable are his ways! (Romans 11)

The obvious question is, “Which of these traditions is more compelling to you?” And though indeed our spirits lean toward one tradition more than the other, As with so many “one or the others”, wisdom is found in the strengths of each, and especially the art of navigating between the two. I’m reminded of one of many occasions when my dad was offered either cake or pie for dessert, and just said “YES!” — in other words, some of both is best. Both ways of seeing and experiencing and talking about God are biblical, and each serves as a counterpoint and even sometimes as a check and balance to the other.

In those moments when I’m so sure about God, it might be good to watch an approaching thunderstorm in silence and humble myself a bit. And on those days that my spirit is unsettled and shaken, I might meditate on an image of God that comforts me — for instance, God is like a mother hen who gathers me under her wing where I find refuge. (Ps. 91).

My seminary professor Kyle Snodgrass talks about a life of faith as a life of holding the tension between this and that, between two things that are true…He says, “One of the best contributions which Christian thought can make to the thought of the world is that life is complex. It is part of the Christian understanding of reality that all simplistic answers to basic questions are bound to be false. Over and over, the answer is both-and rather than either-or.” (Between Two Truths, Zondervan, 1990, p. 29).

We are saints and sinners. Pride and humility dance together. Hold in tension strength and weakness, authority and submission, faith and works, grace and law, freedom and responsibility. This is where maturity takes shape, when we are able to see truth and value in each, even as they offset each other. We are able to embrace the tension of life and faith and find our way through with joy and peace, rather than always being fearful of the other and different.

What I’m thinking about is the challenge former Covenant Church president Glenn Palmberg used to give when tension was present in the church: “Move toward your opposite.” For me, as one more comfortable living in an apophatic world and church tradition, it’s important for me to befriend and respect and value kataphatic writers and thinkers and friends, and the strength of their images and certainties.

Mclaren concludes: “God is the wind in the sail (apophatic) and the sea we sail upon (cataphatic). We are embarked.“

What do you think and feel about this?

Peter Hawkinson

For Each Other’s Sake

This Sunday was a very special day for our church. In lieu of gathering to worship at our building, we drove as a group down to Kingdom Covenant Church, a partner congregation of ours on the south side of the city, to worship and eat lunch together.

Kingdom is a much younger church than ours, a relatively recent church plant. And that’s just the beginning of our differences, really: they serve a primarily lower-income, predominantly black neighborhood; we serve a primarily higher-income, predominantly white area. They just purchased a building two years ago, in the midst of COVID, an old Lutheran church that was in need of lots of TLC. We’re a year away from paying off our mortgage (!!) and encountering the TLC needs of a building we’ve been in since its construction in the post-war years.

Our services are primarily traditional; with songs out of a hymnal sung to a piano and organ and a choir in robes; theirs are much less traditional, with a praise band, drums, singers leading the congregation in music that you have to listen to, to learn – no songbooks, or projections, or handouts.

I could go on and on, but you get the picture: we are pretty different.

And yet.

We are united in the things that matter. We love Jesus, we want to serve God by serving our neighbor. We want meaningful work, safe places to live, nourishing food to eat, good healthcare when we’re sick, high-quality education and opportunities for our kids.

Still, visiting each other’s churches can be an uncomfortable endeavor, because of some of those differences I mentioned.

This Sunday, Pastor David (Kingdom’s lead pastor), began his sermon by saying: “Winnetka folks, we’re going to make you uncomfortable today.”

He went on to explain: “if you talk to me while I’m preaching, it won’t distract me, it won’t derail me, if anything it will only put gasoline on my fire. If you don’t talk, I’m not sure if you can hear me. And I’ll probably just preach longer!”

Those of you who’ve worshipped with us at Winnetka know this is a far cry from how we experience the sermon. As a pastor, I’m used to people coughing during my sermons, a cell phone going off, maybe a baby crying – but certainly no one talking to me. No one clapping, or yelling “amen” if they agree.

But that’s exactly what Pastor David asked of us this week. To engage a different practice that was normal for his community.

In essence, to choose discomfort for their sake.

And it got me thinking.

So often, we are in our comfort zone at church. We can often pick a church to attend based somewhat on that comfort zone – we like the preaching, the theology, the worship style, the programs. Some of that is good and useful; we need to be at least moderately comfortable to engage consistently.

But sometimes we can get a little too used to being comfortable, and that’s usually when we stop growing.

That’s when it becomes especially important to stretch ourselves; to choose some discomfort intentionally. Like going to worship with Kingdom Covenant, yes, but there are also options right at our own church.

Like attending Wednesday night worship in the Upper Room. It might not be your style, but it is the style of singing beloved by many of our kids, and so for the sake of relationship with them, choosing to be uncomfortable and go sing some rowdy camp songs.

Choosing your discomfort by serving in leadership, or by taking on a local service project.

Choosing your discomfort by pursuing relationships with people across the political divide from you.

And always, always, remembering that we do these things for the sake of each other. To be reminded, as the worship leaders as Kingdom sang with us on Sunday: “I need you, you need me, we’re all a part of God’s body […] I need you to survive.”1

Sunday was a great opportunity to practice this idea: choosing to be uncomfortable for the sake of relationship with each other. But I pray it won’t be the only opportunity.

As we gather together again in a few short weeks, to kick off our fall season, I hope you’ll join me in looking for ways to intentionally choose some discomfort, that we might grow together and grow in our faith.

-Pastor Jen

For Each Other’s Sake

This Sunday was a very special day for our church. In lieu of gathering to worship at our building, we drove as a group down to Kingdom Covenant Church, a partner congregation of ours on the south side of the city, to worship and eat lunch together.

Kingdom is a much younger church than ours, a relatively recent church plant. And that’s just the beginning of our differences, really: they serve a primarily lower-income, predominantly black neighborhood; we serve a primarily higher-income, predominantly white area. They just purchased a building two years ago, in the midst of COVID, an old Lutheran church that was in need of lots of TLC. We’re a year away from paying off our mortgage (!!) and encountering the TLC needs of a building we’ve been in since its construction in the post-war years.

Our services are primarily traditional; with songs out of a hymnal sung to a piano and organ and a choir in robes; theirs are much less traditional, with a praise band, drums, singers leading the congregation in music that you have to listen to, to learn – no songbooks, or projections, or handouts.

I could go on and on, but you get the picture: we are pretty different.

And yet.

We are united in the things that matter. We love Jesus, we want to serve God by serving our neighbor. We want meaningful work, safe places to live, nourishing food to eat, good healthcare when we’re sick, high-quality education and opportunities for our kids.

Still, visiting each other’s churches can be an uncomfortable endeavor, because of some of those differences I mentioned.

This Sunday, Pastor David (Kingdom’s lead pastor), began his sermon by saying: “Winnetka folks, we’re going to make you uncomfortable today.”

He went on to explain: “if you talk to me while I’m preaching, it won’t distract me, it won’t derail me, if anything it will only put gasoline on my fire. If you don’t talk, I’m not sure if you can hear me. And I’ll probably just preach longer!”

Those of you who’ve worshipped with us at Winnetka know this is a far cry from how we experience the sermon. As a pastor, I’m used to people coughing during my sermons, a cell phone going off, maybe a baby crying – but certainly no one talking to me. No one clapping, or yelling “amen” if they agree.

But that’s exactly what Pastor David asked of us this week. To engage a different practice that was normal for his community.

In essence, to choose discomfort for their sake.

And it got me thinking.

So often, we are in our comfort zone at church. We can often pick a church to attend based somewhat on that comfort zone – we like the preaching, the theology, the worship style, the programs. Some of that is good and useful; we need to be at least moderately comfortable to engage consistently.

But sometimes we can get a little too used to being comfortable, and that’s usually when we stop growing.

That’s when it becomes especially important to stretch ourselves; to choose some discomfort intentionally. Like going to worship with Kingdom Covenant, yes, but there are also options right at our own church.

Like attending Wednesday night worship in the Upper Room. It might not be your style, but it is the style of singing beloved by many of our kids, and so for the sake of relationship with them, choosing to be uncomfortable and go sing some rowdy camp songs.

Choosing your discomfort by serving in leadership, or by taking on a local service project.

Choosing your discomfort by pursuing relationships with people across the political divide from you.

And always, always, remembering that we do these things for the sake of each other. To be reminded, as the worship leaders as Kingdom sang with us on Sunday: “I need you, you need me, we’re all a part of God’s body […] I need you to survive.”1

Sunday was a great opportunity to practice this idea: choosing to be uncomfortable for the sake of relationship with each other. But I pray it won’t be the only opportunity.

As we gather together again in a few short weeks, to kick off our fall season, I hope you’ll join me in looking for ways to intentionally choose some discomfort, that we might grow together and grow in our faith.

-Pastor Jen