In the recently released, Bono: in conversation with Michka Assayas, French journalist and U2 critic interviews Bono on a host of topics from childhood struggles to adulthood egotism and all kinds of stuff in between. The most authoritative book available on Bono (not U2 per se), this penetrating conversation draws you deep into the dreams and fears, faith and follies of the Irish rock star.

Interestingly, Bono does not back down from the hard questions. Although, at times, he attempts to sidestep them, Michka hunts him down with inquisitive force. As a result, some of Bono’s theology (quite good) is thrust out onto the pages of this exposing 323 page interview.

Michka inquires: “What about the God of the Old Testament? He wasn’t so Peace and Love.” (name of a new song on HTDAAB)

Bono answers:

There’s nothing hippie about my picture of Christ. The Gospels paint a picture of a very demanding, sometimes divisive love, but love it is. I accept the Old Testament as more of an action movie: blood, car chases, evacuations, a lot of special effects, seas dividing, mass murder, adultery. The children of God are running amok, wayward. Maybe that’s why they’re so relatable. But the way we would see it, those of us who are trying to figure out our Christian conundrum, is that the God of the Old Testament is like the journey form stern father to friend. When you’re a child, you need clear directions and some strict rules. But with Christ, we have access in a one-to-one relationship, for, as in the Old Testament, it was more one of worship and awe, a vertical relationship. The New Testament, on the other hand, we look across at Jesus who looks familiar, horizontal. The combination is what makes the Cross.

Film director Christopher Nolan’s (The Following, Memento) Batman Begins, begins tonight, well actually tomorrow, 12:01 for the real Bat-fans. Whereas all previous Batman films have captured the “super” in the hero, apparently Nolan’s film is going to answer the question, “How did the “bat” get into the ‘man’?” Although likely far from Nolan’s existential, The Following, one wonders just how deep Nolan will dig to get to Batman’s beginnings?

It appears that heroes of modernism have been replaced by new heroes, post-modern heroes. Intriguingly, on October 14, 2004 the superhero of modernism, Superman, a.k.a. Christopher Reeve, died the same day as Jacques Derrida, the philosophical hero of postmodernism. Far from burying either modernism or postmodernism as ethical and philosophical frameworks, the deaths of these two individuals are reflected in recent Hollywood heroes. For instance, take the recent Jason Bourne of The Bourne Identity. When compared to the smooth, sexy and confident 007 of the James Bond legacy, Bourne appears conflicted, lost and confused. Bond is a indifferent assassin, whose female relationships are superficial and sundry. Bourne, on the other hand, is a conscientious killer, committed to one woman, a woman whom he loses. Bond appears omniscient, whereas Bourne is ignorant. Suffering from amnesia, Bourne is searching for his identity and is happy to have discovered his name. Bond’s egotism generates an unreal and un-relatable personality; he even goes by a pseudonym, 007.

So where does Batman fall in the superhero shuffle? Plagued by the death of his parents at an early age, Batman is a tortured soul searching for justice and identity. Oscillating between the Bond-like Bruce Wayne and the Bourne Batman, the masked hero simultaneously portrays the images and traits of both modernism and postmodernism. So who is he? Well, Mark Reinhart, author of “The Batman Filmography,” thinks that Batman is who we want him to be. In an interview by Mac Daniel of the Boston Globe, Reinhart contends that Batman is meant to absorb all of our perceptions, that “none of us is more right than anyone else,” making Batman everyone’s hero and no-one at the same time, a classic post-modern conundrum. One thing is for sure, Superman or Batman, Bond or Bourne, only One hero does it for me, one who is the same yesterday, today and forever- Jesus the Christ.

This morning I spent my devotion in 1 John 3. I was struck by the unequivocal, black and white nature of John’s statement: “the one who practices sin is of the devil; for the devil has sinned from the beginning…By this the children of God and the children of devil are obvious: anyone who does not practice righteousness is not of God…(3.8, 10).” If I practice sin, I’m a child of the devil?! My first inclination is to harmonize what John says with what he says elsewhere, “I am writing to you, little children, because your sins have been forgiven you for His name’s sake (1.12).” As a result, I “escape” the exhortation, I soften the blow of John’s bold statement.

But upon reflection, I don’t think John wants us to harmonize. Sure, he wants us to read in context and rest in the cross but he doesn’t want us to stay stuck in 1.12…he wants us to keep reading. Although Christ has come to decisively defeat Satan, I’m still left with a choice. Will I follow Jesus or will I follow Satan? Will I pursue righteousness or sinfulness? Will I behave in such a way today that I am conformed to the image of the devil or the image of Christ? Practicing sin starts now and so does practicing righteousness.

So where might devilish behavior manifest itself? I don’t have to look far. The tendency to complain about the weather, instead of exalt God for his omnipotence over it and his character in it (extreme temperatures reveal the might of God), is one expression of subdued anger (add to this related sins of grumpiness, self-sulking, cutting remarks, etc.). Satan is the epitome of anger, dissent, accusation. He doesn’t trust God in less than desirable circumstances; he blames God. He longs to lull us into subtle sins, sins of complacency and complaint. He plots to conform us to his angry image, to make us like children of the devil.

What would it look like for me, for us, to trust God even in weather we don’t desire? In circumstances or situations that are uncomfortable or undesirable. How might a child of God respond to these things? Will be content or will we complain? Angry or awestruck at God’s awesome power. Oh, to not act like children of the devil but like children of God!

Put ten bucks in the jar. When I recall some of the popular discipleship disciplines I espoused and practiced in college, I shudder. Did I really think that they were biblical or even helpful? If one of the guys I was discipling caved into a particular sin he was “being held accountable” for, he had to put ten bucks in the jar. Sometimes the accumulated cash was put in the offering, other times it was used to celebrate “not sinning” over dinner. Somehow, this practice was supposed to motivate holy living.

Maybe you’ve had a similar experience, one which frequently occurs within the context of what evangelicals call “Accountability Groups”- gatherings in which brothers and sisters in Christ meet together to encourage one another in their journey toward holiness, toward Christ-likeness. Ideally, these groups promote Christian obedience through enforcing biblical standards while also providing an environment of grace in which we experience the pain of confessing sin and the joy of conquering it. Put more positively, accountability groups typically seek to foster personal holiness and faith in Christ through corporate confession, discussion and prayer, a noble aim. Whether you can relate the experience above or not, one thing we all have in common is the struggle against mixed motives and deficient discipleship in our pursuit of holiness.

Asceticism and Confession

Although the aim of accountability groups is good, the practice is often misguided. Accountability groups often smack of asceticism. Failures to trust and cherish God are punished through graduated penalties (an increased tithe, buying lunch or coffee for the “partners,” or unspoken ostracism from one’s peers). Instead of holding one another accountable to trusting God, we become accountable for exacting punishments on one another. The unfortunate result is a kind of legalism in which the healing of confession and the power of God’s promises are substituted by peer prescribed punishments. As a result, our motives for holiness get warped. Confession in such contexts is relegated to “keeping from doing it,” making discipleship a duty-driven, rule-keeping journey.

Alternatively, these sorts of groups can devolve into a kind of evangelical confessional booth from which we depart absolved of any guilt, fearing merely the passing frown of our fellow priest. I confess my sin, you confess yours. I pat your back, you pat mine and then we pray. Accountability groups become circles of cheap grace through which we obtain cheap peace from a troubled conscience. This approach to holiness backfires and we begin to take Christless comfort in the confession of sin (ours and others). Confession becomes divorced from repentance, reducing holiness to half-hearted morality. Accountability becomes a man-made mix of moralism and cheap peace.

Don’t get me wrong; confession is good and biblical: “Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.” (Js 5.16; cf. 1 Jn 1.9) It’s a means of grace for spiritual healing, not something we do in order to regain God’s approval. It’s relating to our Holy Father in authenticity and is a holy act itself (not something we do to position ourselves for holiness). The problem arises when we lose sight of holiness and we turn confession into a purely horizontal act, making it an impersonal ritual.

Motivation for Holiness

With accountable asceticism, the main motivation for not sinning is punishment or embarrassment. The idea is that we will refrain from sinning because we don’t want to lose something or to be embarrassed by confessing our sin to a friend. Confessional booth accountability empties the power of holiness by hollowing its motivation. Earnestness for holiness is replaced by ritual regurgitation of our sin. Whether we drift toward the confessional booth or accountable asceticism, what’s common to both is a subverting of the seriousness of sin and a forsaking of holiness, both of which sever us from the joy of Lord. In short, we substitute ritual for righteousness.

So what’s the big deal? What’s at stake in our distorted forms of accountability, in hollowed pursuits of holiness? Well, for starters, our relationship with the Trinity gets short-circuited. The Father isn’t trusted, the Son’s sacrifice is sold out, and the Spirit is slighted. In addition to trivializing the Trinity, we settle for the fleeting pleasure of peer approval or cheap peace when we could have “pleasures forevermore” in our relationship with God (Ps 16.11).

In order to avoid the confessional booth mentality and ascetic accountability, two things are necessary. First, we have to take the threats of Scripture seriously. When God says, “Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord (Heb 12.14),” he means it! Gathering together to remind one another of the imperative of holiness is good and necessary. Second, we need to be reminded of the powerful and precious promises of God (2 Pt 1.4). God’s promises aren’t meant for measuring; they’re for trusting. His promises are the path to true pleasure. They are the way to worship. God h
imself is bent on pursuing our pleasure through His holiness: “but God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness (12.10).” Did you catch that? The infinite God of the universe is committed to our good, even in discipline! He pursues our true pleasure, knowing that when we trust him we become like Him; we become holy. When we trust in His promises, God is glorified and we are satisfied. Our happiness is bound up with His holiness.

So the next time we gather together, believe the warnings and bank on the promises. Scripture motivates us for holiness with both the pitchfork and the carrot. Encourage one another to not settle for second-rate pleasures, but to pursue the happiness that comes with holiness. Of course, be sure to listen, learn and love, praying for one another so you will be healed. In doing so, we will escape the evangelical confessional booth and axe ascetic accountability, embracing happiness in holiness, without which no one will see the Lord.