Blazing a Third Way

The debate is all over the air-waves, literature, university campuses and coffee shops in America: Is Christianity (and religion in general) good for society?

Some thinkers say religion is dangerous. This group would include Christopher Hitchens (author of God is Not Great) and others who point out the tragedies and violence done in the name of religion. They point to The Crusades, Constantine’s Army, Catholic/Protestant Wars, Holocaust (Germany was overwhelmingly Lutheran at the time), along with bloodshed caused by Islam and modern day Israel. They point out that more people died in the twentieth century, the height of Christendom’s influence in the world, than in all the previous nineteen centuries combined. And, I haven’t even pointed out the Christian/Muslim tension in the world today. They look to Nietzsche and his premise that religion is the opiate of the masses, a crutch that helps less intelligent folks make sense of their lives (especially mortality).

Other thinkers say religion is not dangerous. This group would include many political conservative and (some) liberal thinkers, fundamentalists, evangelicals, and (some) mainline leaders along with other loyalists to a particular re-telling of America’s inception. This group would point to the influence of Judeo-Christian values in the U.S. Constitution, the building of hospitals in India, the modern day school system, work with the poor, literacy, Civil Rights Movement (led by a black Baptist minister), Red Cross, A.I.D.S. relief in Africa, along with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Post-Apartheid South Africa (Desmond Tutu was unapologetically Christian in his leadership of this incredible work . . . what N.T. Wright has called the “most significant accomplishment of Christianity in the twentieth century”).

Those who argue that religion/Christianity is poisonous to civilization tend to ignore the accomplishments and sheer will of Christian passion over the last several centuries. While they are correct in pointing out slavery (America’s original sin), they gloss over the fact that a Christian (William Wilberforce) helped to end the peculiar institution.

Those who argue that religion/Christianity is necessary and good for civilization tend to ignore the aforementioned skeletons in the proverbial religious closet. They are limited in their understanding of the way in which religion has promoted evil, division and hate in some parts of the world. They are easily duped by nostalgia and wishful thinking.

I hope to be a part of a church that is a blazing a third way. A way that owns up to the sins of our past and present (my generation loves to point out the racism of our parents and grandparents while ignoring the plank of materialism, apathy, and indifference in our own collective eye) while also having the courage to point out what is good, just, and right about Christianity and other religions.

Christians, it seems to me, suffer from a lack of imagination. We lack the imagination to see a way in which we can make a sustained difference on issues of abortion (I’m pro-life and I’m committed to providing care for young mothers and children born into poverty), war (particularly the re-integration of soldiers into “civilian life”), poverty, addiction (drug, alcohol, eating disorders, gambling, sexual, among others) divorce, abuse, and depression. We feel powerless, as if we cannot make a real dent in the destruction and decay of life as we know and accept it.

God’s Spirit is able to blaze a path in the midst of overwhelming odds. I want to be a part of a church that rises above these old dichotomies, into a new set of questions, dreams, and possibilities.

“What is needed is a realization that power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love.”

Cardboard Testimony

When you get a chance, watch what Richland Hills Church did recently in their gathering time recently. What a powerful reminder that all of us have a story of life, death, and resurrection. I'm grateful that Churches of Christ have a church like Richland Hills which is willing to re-imagine and re-think the task of reaching those who don't know Jesus. The mission drives everything they do.

Mere Discipleship

About five years ago, Mere Discipleship hit churches, bookstores, classrooms, and personal libraries all around the country. More than anything, this work (an appropriation of sorts of John Howard Yoder for evangelicals) prompted spirited discussion regarding religion, politics, the life of Jesus, and the role of church in society.

The second edition of MD is out. For this edition, I've written a detailed study guide alongside Lee Camp for the sole purpose of equipping church leaders, teachers, and ministers to bring this important discussion to the place for which the book was written in the first place: the local church!

If you were challenged by the first edition, consider purchasing the second. If you have not read this book, here's your chance.

Click here for a preview.

"What a book. This is one of those books that you wear out carrying around, marking up, and loaning out. Camp's words are timeless, and timely. And the crazy thing is this: the church is actually ready to hear them. In post-Religious Right America, there is an entire generation that is not willing to settle for the dream of America over the dream of God. There is a hunger for a Christianity that is not just something we believe but something we live and embody, a church filled not just with believers and worshippers but with disciples. Lee Camp points us towards a Christianity that is worth believing in."--Shane Claiborne, author of The Irresistible Revolution, coauthor of Jesus for President

Women in Leadership

Kara and I spent time at the Chicago History Museum last week during our two day stay in Chi-Town.

This button was part of the display case in the Roman Catholic section of the museum. The button is quite brilliant I think.

The Great Fire

In 1871, the city of Chicago suffered a devastating fire. By the end of the destruction, almost two-thirds of the city proper had been destroyed. Likely a case of an urban myth run wild, early reports pointed to a poor Irish woman as the one responsible. A poor, immigrant Catholic (the perfect criminal in the political milieu of late nineteenth century Chicago), Catherine O’Leary was the first reported perpetrator. The Chicago Tribune reporter who “leaked” this information would later retract.

Several theories now remain regarding the person responsible for the great fire. Yet, the most interesting element to me regarding the story is the reason the city burned down in the first place. Before Chicago became the “windy” city, it was known as the wooden city for its streets, buildings, factories, and homes were primarily made of a substance that could be destroyed in an instant. Chicago was made of wood and it would soon learn the fallacy of constructing an entire community/existence upon a fragile source.

I find this to be a great metaphor for our cultural situation regarding Christianity and the Church. Made of wood (science= God), our western religious cities are slowly burning. Architects from all over the world are now coming to this city to a) diagnose the cause of the fire (i.e. the failures of modernity) and b) create new possibilities and paradigms within our given context.

This is not to say that the “wooden city” was evil, bankrupt, or false. Rather, it is to recognize the limitations as well as the possibilities now for the future.

You can’t have a resurrection without a crucifixion. Some see the decline of Western Christianity as tragedy. I see it as an opportunity to raise up a new kind of church.

Mere Discipleship Part Deux

A few years ago, Lee Camp wrote a provocative (and slightly controversial!) book, Mere Discipleship: Radical Christianity in a Rebellious World.

In short, this book is an introduction to a "a different way" of doing/practicing Christianity: the committed practice of non-violence and reckless love. Brazos Press has done a second printing which will be out in a few weeks. This book has had a major impact in evangelical circles, as well as broader Christian groups.

Not long ago, for example, I got an email from a pastor in Southern California from an Episcopal church who was trying to teach Mere Discipleship to his church in a class on mission.

I am honored to have written The Study Guide for Mere Discipleship with Lee last year. Not only was Lee one of the most influential professors during my tenure at Lipscomb (Hazelip School of Theology), I also consider him a good friend, a source of wisdom and wise counsel.

Someone recently asked me, knowing how polemical the book has been, "Do you agree with what Lee is proposing in this book?"

Here's my (not so) simple answer.

I don't agree with everything in the book. Most of it, yes, I think he's right (why I think he's right and what I don't agree with are for another day and perhaps another venue). However, I know this for sure. His challenge to American Christianity is one of the most important voices in contemporary dialog. He's a prophet of sorts, and I have a clearer picture of The Jesus Way because of his writing, teaching and, most importantly, the way in which he lives his life.

Shane Claiborne has this to say about Mere Discipleship.

"What a book. This is one of those books that you wear out carrying around, marking up, and loaning out. Camp's words are timeless, and timely. And the crazy thing is this: the church is actually ready to hear them. In post-Religious Right America, there is an entire generation that is not willing to settle for the dream of America over the dream of God. There is a hunger for a Christianity that is not just something we believe but something we live and embody, a church filled not just with believers and worshippers but with disciples. Lee Camp points us towards a Christianity that is worth believing in."--Shane Claiborne, author of The Irresistible Revolution, coauthor of Jesus for President


Read the book. It will mess you up.

Spiritual Food

Two good friends recently shared this article with me. It's a great description of the relationship between the Lord's Supper and serving the poor.

Sara Miles describes the significance the holy meal has had in her spiritual maturation. A former atheist, Miles describes the Lord’s Supper as the place where the esoteric, ethereal, and abstract notions of Christian belief are defeated by the truth that Christianity has always been a religion based upon tangible practices. Describing her first communion, she writes, “Faith turned out not to be abstract at all, but material and physical. I’d thought Christianity meant angels and trinities and being good. Instead, I discovered a religion rooted in the most ordinary yet subversive practice: a dinner table where everyone is welcome, where the despised and outcast are honored."

There's food and then there's food.

The Pastor's View

The view of the local-church pastor can be quite depressing. Families torn apart. Indifference. Jealousy. Petty backbiting. Closed-mindedness. Racism. Apathy. Idolatry. Materialism. Insecurity. Loss of job. Generational sin. Lack of integrity.

Not always depressing . . . but the view is enough to make you . . . well . . . depressed.

And then . . .

Every once in a while the view of the pastor is spectacular. Yesterday, the view was heavenly.

A family still grieving the death of their 24 year-old daughter, a young man just named to a top position with a NBA team, an older woman facing chemotherapy head on, a young adult battling a heroine addiction, a handful of adults fighting the cycle of homelessness—all came together to worship in community.

We sang. We ate. We drank. We listened. We prayed. We gave. We spoke. We cried. We asked, “Why?” And for a few moments, the world, as it is (not as we wish it would be) was not a bad place to live. The world, we concluded, might even be a place in which God is at work.

The Future of the Church

Many bemoan the future of the church in America.

I'm not one of them. The church might get smaller . . . but I trust that, in the fullness of time, God will do what God wills. By "church" I'm not referring to a specific tribe (Church of Christ, Community, Catholic, Baptist, etc.) but, rather, to the church universal.

Last night, I spoke at Hope Community Church in Detroit to about 40 young adults regarding faith, Christian history (skeletons and bright spots alike) and evangelism. Their questions were outstanding, candid, honest, and authentic.

The top question of the day, to paraphrase one Christian thinker, is not whether Christianity is rationale, true, or logical. The top question . . . is rather . . .can Christianity prove itself to be redemptive, authentic, and "good news" for those who do not subscribe to the tenets of Christianity?

Driving home last night, I thought of this quote from one African scholar.


"It is not often recognized in Christian circles that theological affirmations about Christ are meaningful ultimately, not in terms of what Christians say, but in terms of what persons of other faiths understand those affirmations to imply for them. In other words, our Christian affirmations about the uniqueness of Christ achieve their real impact when they are subjected to the test to establish their credentials and validity not only in terms of the religious and spiritual universe in which Christians habitually operate, but also and indeed especially, in terms of the religious and spiritual worlds which persons of other faiths inhabit. For it is, after all, in those ‘other worlds’ that the true meaning of the unique Christ is meant to become apparent and validated.”

Church Numbers, The Nation of Islam

Last night, I sat on a panel with ministers and pastors from various evangelical denominations to discuss “Big Church/Small Church: A Conversation about Church Growth, Evangelism, and Church in the Age of Marketing.”

Once again, Calvin Moore has done an excellent job with putting together this series (House of God).

Some of the ministers represented pastor mega-churches (22,000 and 6,000 respectively). I represented the medium-large church (1,000—less than one percent of all American churches are larger than 850 people). Three other pastors represented “small churches” (200, 20, and 15 respectively).

I toyed with idea of beginning the panel with this quote, “I think—tide turning—see, as I remember—I was raised in the desert, but tides kind of—it’s easy to see a tide turn—did I say those words?”—President Bush in Washington D.C.; June 14, 2006

Or, I could've turned to Michael Scott for wisdom: ". . . Am I a great leader? Yes. Yes I am."

The conversations ranged from whether or not Joel Osteen’s church is “orthodox” to Barak Obama’s UCC ties in Chicago (c.f. African emphasis); to the marketing that takes place in the confines of the “evangelical Christian ghetto.” It was a spirited conversation, full of wisdom, passion, experience, and (some) humility.

When discussing the mystical (my word) relationship between the people of God and the gathering of God’s people, I told this story.

Along with one other college friend, I once went to hear Cummings debate two Muslim ministers, over a two day period, concerning the reliability of Scripture versus the truthfulness of the Koran. I went to hear Cummings the first night by myself. I was the only white person “in the house.” I was treated with great respect and dignity by the Christians hosting this event. The second night was the debate/dialog session between Muslim Ministers and Christian pastors.

It was quite a scene.

There were only two white guys in the standing-room only auditorium—yours truly and Mark Johnson (who was probably wondering what I’d talked him into exactly). For the most part, the dialog was amicable. Many fine philosophical and theological points were highlighted and debated. What I remember from this night, however, had little do with the former and everything to do with identity.

Near the end of the session, a middle-aged black man sitting next to me, stood up in front of the all-black gathering, mixed with Christians and Muslims, and pointed his long finger in my face saying, “You mean to tell me…you Christians…that you don’t see who this man is.” My heart began racing. He was staring down at me. “This man is the devil. The white man is the devil.” I’m quite sure my face was red as I slumped deeper and deeper into the old wooden pew which, thirty seconds previously, was a fine piece of furniture. Now, it was the most uncomfortable chair in the history of the world.

The crowd grew silent. The place, all of the sudden, was eerily empty.

Just when I thought my heart was going to burst, an older African-American woman put her arms around me and said with great passion, “Excuse me, sir. This man (referring to me) is my brother in Christ. I have more in common with this man because we were baptized into the same Lord Jesus.”

For one of the few times in my young life, in that moment, I felt like I belonged to something spiritual, something other-worldly. Never had I been so convinced of the truth and power of the story of Jesus for a modern and complicated society like ours in these United States.

Never had the word “my” sounded so good to me.

Liars Go to Hell

Just this week, standing on the corner of Auburn and Rochester Road, was a middle-aged white male. Some of you know who I am talking about.

Normally, this would not draw the attention of onlookers as Rochester is predominantly white. This person was doing something unusual for he wore a large sign that read:

Revelation 21:8
LIARS GO TO HELL!

Kara first sited this man and reported to me via cell phone. This happened about a week ago. I responded to her journalistic reporting by stating, “Can you get a picture?” She was driving at the time, and thus, could not get a discernible picture.

As if the story could not get any stranger . . . my “liars-go-to-hell-sign-wearing-friend” held, in the hand not supporting the large sign under discussion, a miniature Santa Clause holding a camera.

“I suppose it is Christmas,” I muttered the first time I noticed, as I drove through Rochester, the figurine of the man from the North Pole.

I’ve heard several people comment on the new Rochester messenger throughout this week.

On Friday, I met a friend for lunch in Troy, the town right next to Rochester. I was early, for once, and noticed the “liars-go-to-hell-sign-wearing-friend” standing at a main intersection.

Santa was also with him, I should add. In his hand. With the previously mentioned photograph device.

I looked at my watch. “He won’t be here for another few minutes,” I thought remembering that my lunch partner had to stop at an ATM machine before meeting me for some Mexican food.

I’ve been thinking, reading, and writing a lot about reconciliation lately. The one constant in all of my reading is “going to the other.” Whether it’s the Tutsi going to the Hutu (Rwanda), the uptight urban-city-slicker going to the rural simpleton (work) or the victim approaching the perpetrator (countless scenario’s)— there’s something profound about one person, despite tension or awkwardness, going to another in genuine respect, searching for authentic understanding.

While some think it's the passive/weak/idealistic way . . . I think it is the harder way. What's easier: to avoid confrontation and tension or to embrace it? Nine times out of ten we choose the former while the latter offers the greatest potential for insight and, on the rare occasion, healing.

So I walked. Carefully. And slowly. Towards the man wearing the loud sign.

“Sir, can I talk to you?” I asked. No response.
“I’m not here to argue. I just want to talk. My name is Josh. I’m a minister.”

Apparently, the “minister angle” didn’t bring me anymore credibility. He only stared beyond me.

“Will you talk to me? . . . You won’t talk to me?” I was getting a bit agitated. I mean, I came all the way out here to . . . well, this story isn’t about me.

Then our eyes met. And I knew it when I saw it. It’s almost impossible to explain what “it” is. It’s like the innate ability of a point guard to find the open man in a critical juncture of the game. Or the negotiator, in the moment of intense drama, who knows the precise words that need to be spoken.

I did not find anger in his eyes.

I did not stumble upon arrogance.

I did not even locate confusion.

Instead I found the most dangerous thing in the world when mixed with religion.

I found fear.

So, I walked away knowing what is so true in all of us. Deep down, all of us wrestle fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of failure. Fear of mediocrity. Fear of . . .

Tonight, before I sleep, I’ll pray for this man, whoever he is. Because, ironically enough, he’s not afraid of me or you or Rochester. He’s afraid of God. I know plenty of people in that boat. Just because he’s rather transparent about it, doesn’t mean I should love him any less than I love my wife, or you.

Worship

Click here to read an essay I recently wrote for Wineskins Magazine. This essay discusses the relationship between what happens on Sunday morning (corporate worship) and mission (living our lives as "worship before God") using New York City as a case study of sorts.

I'm curious to hear your thoughts and critique. What are the strengths and weaknesses of the essay? Remember that dialog is the path to true understanding.

There are other great articles in this issue including a great interview with Brian McLaren. Props to GT (Greg Taylor) for being an outstanding editor; for helping me find my own voice.

Baseball, Adventure, and the Titanic

Three thoughts from the World Series. First, Boston won five of the first fifteen World Series at the onset of Major League Baseball. In the last eighty-nine years (or thereabouts) they’ve won a grand total of two. Second, from 2004 until present day, the losing team in the World Series has won a grand total of 1 game. The Red Sox swept the Cardinals in 2004. TheWhite Sox swept the Astros in 2005. The Cardinals won in five against the Tigers, and the Rex Sox swept the Rockies in 2007. That’s an amazing statistic. Last, why do we still call it a world championship, when a MLB, NBA, or NFL team wins their American championship? Is it truly a world championship?

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I viewed the film, Into the Wild, on Friday night. It’s an amazing film. It is a bit slow in parts but the story line is excellent. I wish I would’ve read the book first because the book is always, always, always, better than the movie (Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, The Autobiography of Malcolm X, Cold Mountain, Band of Brothers—just to name a few). My favorite line from the film, "I'm going to paraphrase Thoreau, 'Trust, forgiveness, passion, beauty, justice, reason are wonderful. I desire truth.'" That's my paraphrase.

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I remembered a sad but true story this weekend from my marathon training of two years ago. I was running in THE CRIM, a big race in the Flint area in prep for the 26.2 miles I was about to endure less than two months later. Upon the last major stretch of the ten mile race, I stumbled (not literally) upon a sad metaphor which captures the state of some of our American churches.

After several churches passed out water, food, gel boosters, etc, I came upon a church that decided during a grueling race that they would contribute to the running experience by blessing the runners with a barrage of hymns.

That’s right. No water, Gatorade, granola bar, or slice of an orange—this church brought “God is So Good” and “The Lord Bless You and Keep You.”

While others were meeting the needs, they brought hymns to the party.

I suppose that’s not completely bad for music is powerful. I simply wonder if that’s not a scary parallel to the way some churches still function. While divorce, H.I.V., S.T.D’s, depression, and poverty wage war, some stand on the top deck of the Titanic blessing each other with hymns.

Harry Potter and John Yoder

I'm late to the Harry Potter party. I finally gave in and read the first one this past week. Rowling is an excellent writer. I'm glad I finally gave in to Kara's prompting.

What is about Harry Potter that has everyone so intrigued? First, Rowling's creativity is unprecedented for modern popular work. C.S. Lewis once wrote, in an essay, that the chief sin of modernity was its war against the imagination of adult Westerners. Harry Potter dares the reader to see things upside down and sideways. Second, Harry Potter is a story of good and evil and we, as humans, seem to be drawn towards stories with clear heroes and obvious villains. We want to know that are lives are a part of some larger cosmic struggle. Third, people are drawn to Harry Potter because they need a person like Harry Potter to exist (common but virtuous, daring, and powerful). Potter is not superman per se, but he is a normal teen with limitless potential. Deep down we all want to believe that we can become more than we already are. Fourth, in Potter (at least the first novel but I'm guessing this is true all the way to the end)...love wins. Power, greed, deception, and even magic have their limits. But love breaks through the barriers and limits...love always wins.

That some Christians refuse to allow their children to ready Harry Potter is beyond me.

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I have found this quote from Yoder to be one of the most succinct statements concerning Jesus in all of New Testament scholarship.

Jesus was not just a moralist whose teachings had some political implications; he was not primarily a teacher of spirituality whose public ministry unfortunately was seen in a political light; he was not just a sacrificial lamb preparing for his immolation, or a God-Man whose divine status calls us to disregard his humanity. Jesus was, in his divinely mandated prophethood, priesthood, and kingship, the bearer of a new possibility of human, social and therefore political relationships. His baptism is the inauguration and his cross is the culmination of that new regime in which his disciples are called to share. Hearers or readers may choose to consider that kingdom as not real, or not relevant, or not possible, or not inviting; but…no such slicing can avoid his call to an ethic marked by the cross, a cross identified as the punishment of a man who threatens society by creating a new kind of community leading a radically new kind of life (The Politics of Jesus).

Patriotism and Nationalism

I want to think out loud here (which I suppose is a non-technical definition of blogging). I'm curious to hear what others think on this topic.

Is there a difference between patriotism and nationalism (borrowing the distinction from a Christian ethicist)? Let me define my terms here.

Patriotism is affinity and affection towards one’s country. This includes appreciating the sacrifice of soldiers from wars gone by as well as the work and dedication of so many in the current Armed Forces.

Nationalism, which is easier to spot in citizens of other nations (c.f. Iran), is total and complete loyalty to the country regardless of said county’s policies, practices, etc.

I am proud to be a U.S. citizen. I love the United States. I think we are one of the more unique stories in the history of civilization. I believe we’ve also influenced, for the good, countless nations into embracing ideas of equality, justice and freedom.

If I was a nationalist, I’d stop there.

But I’m a patriot, not a nationalist.

Because I’m a patriot I am also aware of U.S. blunders such as our inability and lack of desire to be involved in Rwanda and Darfur. I wonder what would happen if oil was discovered in these two regions.

So…is this semantics or is there a difference between being a patriot (a good American or German or Ugandan or Egyptian) and being a nationalist?

Specifically, if one follows the teachings of Jesus, should there be a distinction?