Breaking free from a paradigm of thought generally takes quite a bit of time. Prior to 2003 my spiritual belief structure was dramatically different from what it is today. I can personally attest that it isn’t easy to “break free” from cherished schools of thought, especially as they begin to erode one by one. Everybody’s path is different, but whatever the trajectory of the journey, unless we are willing to embrace an often frustrating quest for truth, we probably aren’t willing to find the it, but rather settle for that which is easiest to believe. For most of us, shifting paradigms is difficult. And time consuming. And at the beginning, it looks perilous.
One such paradigm most of us are familiar with is the left-right/liberal-conservative spectrum of thought (both politically and theologically). We could imagine it as a line being drawn in the sand, and on one end is the liberal left, and on the other end is the conservative right. When asked where we stand on a particular issue or system of beliefs, most of us place ourselves somewhere along that line. We also picture others somewhere along that line in relationship to our own “point” on it. We say things like, “He’s a little more liberal than I am.” Or, “She’s a little too far to the right politically for my tastes.”
But what if we take the line in the sand, and instead of picturing people along a spectrum of left/liberal or right/conservative, we begin thinking a bit more three-dimensional. What if a better position were somewhere hovering above the line, suspended midair, in a way that defies the traditional dualistic tendency? What if we began thinking in ways that didn’t place people on a line that allowed us to assume so many things about them based on where we place them? What if we thought more deeply about the way we understand theology and politics, and instead of trying to find a “middle ground” that made sense or was a decent compromise, we searched for a higher place that accurately described what it is we are all about?
Those familiar with Brian McLaren’s book A New Kind of Christian will notice that I used the same illustration as he does to describe how we think in a duality, and how this can be limiting to our view of the world. While McLaren used that illustration to talk about new conceptions in faith and Christianity, the same analogy works for the political paradigm of thought. This became apparent to me about three years ago when I became quite interested in the implications for Christ-followers to carry out social justice as part of the gospel message. I read books like God’s Politics by Jim Wallis. I read articles by Tony Campolo, Brian McLaren, and others calling Christians to stop thinking only about the afterlife and begin living out Jesus’ mission to transform society. Christ’s life-changing movement was to change how we interact socially with one another. If Christianity was about anything, it was about revolutionizing the world with the love of Jesus, which started with the poor, downtrodden, and outcasts in society. So from a theological perspective, this all sounded great. I’m on board. But the practical solutions being proposed by these same people didn’t feel right to me. Something didn’t seem completely justifiable in the way they were going about how to accomplish their ends. Question upon question kept piling up in my mind, and soon it became clear to me that the bulk of the answers I needed could be found in economics.
So while I was still in seminary, with plenty to read, write, and dialogue with, I went to search for some economic texts that would help me on my quest. For most folks, economics sounds terribly boring (and some of it is). But I discovered early on that economics has less to do with gibberish we hear from financial gurus on TV and more to do with how human beings act and interact with one another. Yes, there’s the financial aspect to economic theory, but at its core, I found that economic study is about human action. The great economist seeks to understand how the world works. So if I wanted to change the world as a Christian, I needed to know how the world works, so my commitment to social justice would be ethical and effective.
What I found incredible about economic philosophy, particularly from the Austrian school of economic thought, was that it felt like I was emerging from the left-right line in the sand, and finding a higher place of understanding. Not only were these explanations about life more invigorating, and made an immense amount of common sense, the practical critique in contemporary politics was the same: politics and the social order today are very messed up, and there are better answers out there.
Every paradigm is imperfect, and every explanation of paradigms is imperfect. But in a fallen world it is imperative for us to remember that all ways of describing the world are imperfect and in constant need of revision. Hence the need to revise the duality of liberal/conservative. And even the three-dimensional explanation of life will not always be the best, and others will be proposed.
But whatever the illustration we use, there is a freshness and vitality to breaking free from the liberal/conservative paradigm that plagues our political dialogue. If we can break free from thinking in a dualistic fashion, there’s a fresh new air to breathe above the ground. It might actually help us think more clearly!
Doug Stuart is a committed follower of Jesus and passionate about building for the Kingdom of God through education and mobilization. He is a regular writer at LibertarianChristians.com as well as the founder of Living Loud.
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The book is divided into three parts. The first part reviewing the landscape of the traditional view of hell, God’s wrath, and judgment (and believe me, she makes it known that there is way more to this doctrine than who goes where when they die!). The second part offers an alternative viewpoint of hell, God’s wrath, and judgment, while the third part offers what she titles a “New View of Hell.” While I’m only finished with the first part, what strikes me about her writing is the way she weaves personal conversations with her students and her friends. It’s a casual-yet-serious discussion about the nature of God and the problems that the eternal conscious torment theology bring to the table. Not one to get off on tangents to every possible objection raised early in the book, she cleverly “teases” the reader with brief answers while promising a fuller explanation to come. While it might sound like an odd description for a non-fiction book, in a weird way I feel like I’m reading a Daniel Silva
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