Why the Elephant is the King of the Jungle

As Kara, Sara, and I were leaving the safari last week in Northern Uganda, we had a thirty second encounter that will be lodged into our memories forever.

As were driving out of the park, we noticed an S.U.V. ahead of us, pulled off to the side of the road. We assumed they were taking photos of say, boring animals, like hippos, zebras, and warthogs (read: sarcasm). As we approached, the Ugandan guide informed our guide that in fact, they had just seen a male and female lion.

At this point, we weren't too excited for we'd already seen 13 lions the previous 36 hours. Oh, how wrong we were.

It turns out, three elephants were chasing two lions across the field near where we were stationed. Sara commented, "I've never seen elephants chasing lions." For someone who'd been on 15 safari's (Sara used to live in Uganda), I was quite impressed with our luck. That feeling would be short-lived.

After losing visible sight of the two chasing parties, the male lion (who must have weighed close to 400 lbs.) came sprinting out of the brush, headed directly for our S.U.V. With his head down, he was running directly for us in fear of the elephants. After about 5 seconds, he lifted his head to see our vehicle. Immediately he tried to stop in mid-stride, forcing him to lose his balance which caused him to slide down the four foot trench that separated him from us.

The lion literally missed hitting our vehicle by six to twelve inches. Had I not slammed the large viewing window, I could've reached out and touched the lion with my bare hand. I probably would've been henceforth forever known as "one-armed-Josh" had I done so. I will never forget the split-second moment in which my eyes met the eyes of the lion. Never had I seen the king of the jungle (not in film, photographs, or video) filled with so much panic. The elephant, as it turns out, is the real king of the jungle.

After the male lion gained his footing, he sprinted to the other side of the road. The female lion came running behind him a short time after. Luckily for us, and the really intriguing element of this little tale, the elephants changed their course before getting to the road where we parked. We saw them casually jog off into the morning mist.

My heart was in my stomach. My stomach was in my foot.

So, what lessons do I take from this? First, I'm a lot lower on the food chain than I often remember. Second, the difference between beauty and danger is a thin veil (or a piece of metal). Third, we as humans feel most alive when we are in situations and places of uncertainty.

I'm glad to be back in suburbia where, as I write this, the most dangerous animal in my yard is a little black squirrel who keeps getting into Kara's flowers. Soon, he will learn his place on the food chain.

Brian McLaren

About a month ago, I interviewed Brian McLaren regarding church, theology, his new book, politics, etc. To read part of that interview click here. To listen to the full interview, click here.

McLaren is considered one of the leading thinkers on the current and future state of Christianity in the West. He'll also be speaking at Lipscomb's Preaching Conference, for which I'm doing another short film for in the fall. If you can make it, this event will be one of rich dialog and reflection.

Chez Moi

Kara and I just returned home tonight. After a month of being gone (grad school and our time in Uganda) I am at peace knowing I'm home.

The last several days were exciting and stressful. We survived one amazing "lion encounter" during safari (more on that to come), a four hour airport shut down in Paris, and yours truly (moi) dancing with Ugandan tribal dancers (photos forthcoming).

My email inbox says 251 (that's just from last Wednesday). My voicemail if full. My stomach is empty.

I think maybe (as Ugandans love to say) . . . I think maybe I'll just go to bed.

"Home is the place where, when you have to go there,. . . they have to take you in. I should have called it . . . Something you somehow haven't to deserve,"
-Robert Frost.

Christ Plays in Africa and Beyond . . .

WARNING: This blog is a bit esoteric. Coloring books are not available. :)

Understanding the various depictions (translation: christologies) of Jesus in history and culture is one of the most important tasks of the Christian seeker. For instance, I wrote a blog sometime back about different "christologies" in the twentieth century.

In preparation for coming to Uganda and teaching at BBS, I got my hands on Kwame Bediako's Jesus and the Gospel in Africa (thanks to Spencer Bogle for that). I don't have the book with me as I write. However, one thing stands out to me as I write from Jinja/The Source/Manry Estate. Among other images, Bediako describes two images of Christ "playing" (think performing, enacted) in Africa.

*Jesus is the Great Ancestor. He is the One who goes before and and is now among the great "cloud of witnesses" (to borrow from language within Hebrews).

*Jesus is the Physician. He is the One who brings healing to the sick, poor, and suffering . . . especially those with H.I.V. or A.I.D.S. Think the gospel of Luke.

Thinking at the same time about the different ways in which Jesus is "packaged" in America--Buddy Jesus, Best Friend Jesus, Bless Me Jesus, CEO Jesus, Psychologist Jesus--I can't help but wonder which Jesus might get the gospel a truer hearing. The following are six images I'd like to pursue to see if the four gospels match up in any way.

1. Suffering Servant
2. Exposer of Powers
3. Protector of Powerless
4. Parent to the Neglected
5. True Representative of Spirituality
6. Healer of Tribalism

Jinja Wrestling and Church Softball

Today, during one of the course sesssions at the Busoga Bible School, I taught the students about social issues in the first century world of Greco-Roman and Jewish thought. To say my translator (Monda) is good is an understatement.

One of the areas that was most interesting to the students, was the discussion of "honor and shame" in Jesus' ministry--specifically the Gospel of Luke.

The short version goes like this. In Israel, men attempted to gain great honor through education, wealth, friends, skill, accomplishment, family, marriage, etc. The more items on the list, the more honor one would receieve. Thus, Jesus exposes the dangers of culture's built upon honor and shame, by turning everything upside down. He is not formally educated, lives a simple life from the backwoods of Nazareth, associates with the "nobodies" and does very little to promote his family or make important social relationships. Just look at the people Jesus ate with. You get the idea.

I asked what men (not women necessarily for Uganda's culture still sees women as second class, as do some pockets of American culture) do to gain honor. One man, Martin, proceeded to tell me about the wrestling competitions that used to consume life in Jinja. Men from various churches would compete against other men. They would have a tournament of sorts . . . the winner was esteemed as a person of great promise. One more important detail is in order. I asked Martin and another man to demonstrate in the front of the classroom. Their wrestling is much more reliant upon skill and speed as opposed to violence and power.

Martin then, after eloquently explaining this to me, turned the question to me and asked, "Joshua . . . .In America, do your churches ever wrestle against one another?" I thought of some funny answers regarding church polity, doctrinal disputes, etc. but decided not to run down that road. Instead, I simply smiled and said," Martin . . . we have something similiar . . . are you familiar with church softball?"

Never did I think I'd have to explain church softball to a room of Ugandan ministers.

The world can end tonight and I'll be just fine.

Jinja pt. 4

Kara and I were able to stay the night last night with Richard and Ida. Richard is the minister for the Jinja Church of Christ, Ida is the "living saint" who ministers and serves in the city and in the villages. When you are around her, you know you are in the presence of holiness.

Aside from the radio blasting all night (Ugandans love to sleep with the radio on, turned up all the way), we slept great. Ida treated us to a feast fit for kings and queens.

This morning, Kara and I joined some of the interns and Sara Barton to worship in Kyabirwa (Cha-beer-a). I preached for about twenty minutes, with a translator. My jokes weren't nearly as funny via translation as they were in my head as I crafted them.

Towards the end of the service, it was mentioned that someone from the church had donated two eggs for the church. Since the "eggs would not fit in the bank" it was proposed that the eggs be auctioned and the proceeds go towards the contribution. Add this to the "things I'd never see in Detroit list."

Two of our students fought tooth and nail over the purchase of the eggs. I believe the eggs went for a handsome sum of twenty thousand shillings.

We are really enjoying our time here . . . not that we ever keep track of it.

The Market

Today Mark took me to the market in Jinja (est. pop. 200k).

The sites and sounds were overwhelming. Fish, grains, berries, pineapples, diesel, waste, mixed with sweat, heat, shade, voices, english, Lusoga, buzungu (White persons). You have to always watch where you are walking as a motorcycle might be hiding righ around the way. Trucks come zooming through with a dozen men in the back of the bed.

First glance, it's weird, hectic, chaotic, and downright intimidating.

People on top of people on top of more people.

But then I took the second glance that mystics talk so much about. And then I see him. Over in the corner, I see an older man, hunched over, with creases or crows-feet, around his eyes. He's weaving something together. I imagine myself walking over to him.

"Hello sir."
"Hello."
"How are you?"
"Fine."
"What are you making."
"I'm making tents. My name is Paul. Not here for long. Just here to encourage some friends. Trying to make a little money while I'm here. What can I make for you?"

"Oh," I think to myself. So much more going on than I normally allow myself to see.

"You've already made enough," I stammer walking away trying to dodge the S.U.V. driven by a married couple from Switzerland, on their way to raft the Nile.

Jinja Part Two

Kara and I were able to spend today in a village outside of Jinja with Sara Barton. It was interesting to be there as Sara reconnected with old and dear friends. She taught in their new church building. She was truly in her element, speaking lusoga fluently. John and Sara (along with several other couples) came to Jinja (Southern Uganda) in the early 90's to plant churches all over the region. It's incredible to see the fruit of their work some twenty years later: internet cafe, library, Busoga Bible School (training center for ministers and lay leaders), craft store, etc. But the real measure of their work is in the eyes of the people who have been welcomed into a new kind of family; a community built around the stories of Jesus. We've met person after person who talk about "John and Sara Barton, Greg and Jill Taylor, Brent and Heather Abney, Mark and Marnie Moore, Darrin and Becca Smith" as if they were talking about "Paul, Peter, Lydia, Phoebe, James, and John."

---

During lunch, I had a conversation with Alice, a local Ugandan who works with H.I.V. and A.I.D.S. patients. She told me that "Because of the generosity of the United States and other countries, Uganda is one of the few countries in Africa where H.I.V. has been in decline." That was particularly helpful for me to hear as it seems U.S. relations have suffered greatly internationally over the last six years.

Jinja Part One

Kara, Sara, and I made it to Jinja despite moderate drama (missing luggage, late planes, planes running low on fuel). We're staying with Mark and Lori . . . just enjoyed a great dinner, now engaged in spirited political discussion. 

Kara's blog will have photos over the next week or so. Mine will have, big surprise, more words.

Mark's been special to me over the last six years. He and I finished the M.Div. together at Lipscomb in 2005--we've spent many hours talking baseball, postmodernism, history, pipe-smoking, theology, mission, film, and all things Church of Christ. Mark's been a big brother of sorts, offering me priceless wisdom for the task of ministry. 

God's world is so much bigger than our lives betray. 

Peace.

Music for the Soul

When you are facing 30 plus hours on the plane (to and from Uganda), you have to pick your music carefully. So, here's what I'm taking with me (my music all-star lineup) . . .


Ray Charles

The Temptations

U2

Bruce

Chris Rice

Maroon 5

What would you take?

NOTE: Wade Hodges . . . I already know you'd take Hall and Oates or however you spell their name . . .

Clapton

Because I just finished a course at CTS on postmodern culture, I read this book, this book, this book, and this book.

My head was mashed potatoes when I got to the airport last night.

So . . . I picked up Eric Clapton's autobiography. I'm almost done with it. It's incredible. I hope to write more about it, why it challenges the way Christians do "church," etc. For now, I encourage you to purchase the book. 12 dollars paperback. You won't regret it.

A little teaser from the publisher:

With striking intimacy and candor, Eric Clapton tells the story of his eventful and inspiring life in this poignant and honest autobiography. More than a rock star, he is an icon, a living embodiment of the history of rock music. Well known for his reserve in a profession marked by self-promotion, flamboyance, and spin, he now chronicles, for the first time, his remarkable personal and professional journeys.

Born illegitimate in 1945 and raised by his grandparents, Eric never knew his father and, until the age of nine, believed his actual mother to be his sister. In his early teens his solace was the guitar, and his incredible talent would make him a cult hero in the clubs of Britain and inspire devoted fans to scrawl “Clapton is God” on the walls of London’s Underground. With the formation of Cream, the world's first supergroup, he became a worldwide superstar, but conflicting personalities tore the band apart within two years. His stints in Blind Faith, in Delaney and Bonnie and Friends, and in Derek and the Dominos were also short-lived but yielded some of the most enduring songs in history, including the classic “Layla.”

During the late sixties he played as a guest with Jimi Hendrix and Bob Dylan, as well as the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and longtime friend George Harrison. It was while working with the latter that he fell for George’s wife, Pattie Boyd, a seemingly unrequited love that led him to the depths of despair, self-imposed seclusion, and drug addiction. By the early seventies he had overcome his addiction and released the bestselling album 461 Ocean Boulevard, with its massive hit “I Shot the Sheriff.” He followed that with the platinum album Slowhand, which included “Wonderful Tonight,” the touching love song to Pattie, whom he finally married at the end of 1979. A short time later, however, Eric had replaced heroin with alcohol as his preferred vice, following a pattern of behavior that not only was detrimental to his music but contributed to the eventual breakup of his marriage. In the eighties he would battle and begin his recovery from alcoholism and become a father. But just as his life was coming together, he was struck by a terrible blow: His beloved four-year-old son, Conor, died in a freak accident. At an earlier time Eric might have coped with this tragedy by fleeing into a world of addiction. But now a much stronger man, he took refuge in music, responding with the achingly beautiful “Tears in Heaven.”

Clapton is the powerfully written story of a survivor, a man who has achieved the pinnacle of success despite extraordinary demons. It is one of the most compelling memoirs of our time.

JINJA ON MY MIND

Kara and I leave for Uganda in a few days to join our friends in Jinja. While in Jinja, I'll be:

*spending time with our RC interns (who've already made their way there).
*spending time with the leaders of the church planting efforts in Jinja and Jinja Church of Christ.
*teaching a course with Sara Barton on "Luke's Gospel and the Spiritual Life" at the Busoga Bible School.

Kara will be joining me for some of this along with working in a local orphanage and alongside Lori Manry.

The timing could not be better. I have a stack of novels (limited theological inquiry for this trip) I'll need for the flights to and from. We hope to post some photos along the way.

Let's hope the Tigers are in first place when we return mid-July. Yes, I need forgiveness for my idolatry.

The Future of the Church (OK, That's an Ambitious Title)

Life's been moving so fast, I often find myself reflecting upon things that have come and gone. For instance, last Friday (which feels like a month ago), I taught at the ZOE Conference (Arlington edition). Usually, I teach on Friday (for church leaders) and Saturday (all people)--but I'd already promised to do the wedding of some good friends, so I came to Dallas for less than 24 hours to teach a three session class on leadership in the postmodern world (we are in, regardless of what you think "postmodern" is or isn't).

First, we talked about "re-imagining our world." Instead of fearing post-modern values, we see the emerging world as a place of the gospel to re-contextualized in redemptive ways. This entailed challenging one's view of truth, belief, and the role of certainty.

Then we talked about "re-thinking our word." More than a rule-book or collection of divine timeless principles, scripture is an "unfolding drama" in which we all learn, by baptism and community, what it means to take up our role in the story.

Last, we discussed "re-envisioning our way." We thought, out loud of course, of what it would look like for leaders to reclaim the spiritual practices of hospitality, reading, and sabbath. "Church's are," I ended, "are a direct reflection of their leadership. If you don't like the spirituality of your church, you'd better first change the spirituality of your leaders."

I know that much of American Christianity is in stagnation or decline (save the Community Church and independent Christian Church movements). I'm convinced that much of Christianity will continue to die lest we see the way in which we wed ourselves to the previous era (modernity), repent, and ask God to give us bigger imaginations of what it means to be the church in our time and place.

Dancing, Chapel, War

This weekend was fantastic. First, I got to spend time with my bride and best friend--something we've needed in the midst of a busy schedule and schooling (Kara's working on her degree right now as well).

I performed the wedding of some dear friends Saturday. Kara and I (along with Ash, Kell, Sean, Brett, Erika, Dan, Katie, and several other friends) were the first ones on the dance floor.

"I didn't know preachers dance," one person commented to me as I took a break into between songs. "I'm all about breaking down stereotypes," I replied as I made my way back to the Jerry Ross band now playing Beyonce.

---

In case anyone wonders about my education at Columbia Seminary (PC-USA), I've gone to chapel more times since being here than I did in all three years of seminary at ACU and Lipscomb. I find that incredibly funny. Mind you, I don't know 3/4's of the songs, but I'm happy to learn and grown. Today our chapel was lead by ministers from Korea and Jamaica--it was powerful. We ended with this song:

Lord, your summons echoes true when you but call my name
Let me turn and follow you and never be the same
In your company I'll go
Where your love and footsteps show
Thus I'll move and live and grow in you and you live in me.

---

Today, I'm wearing a t-shirt that reads, "PEACE IN NORTHERN UGANDA." I'm reminding myself (and generating conversation with others), that I am privileged to be able to study and reflect critically while brothers and sisters in Uganda are still experiencing the evil and brutality of the "powers that be."

Click here for a hilarious/tragic case study of what it means to be a fundamentalist in the worst sense of the word.

Mid-Week Ramblings

I never like to be away from home (read: Kara) for more than a few days . . . however . . .

My time in Atlanta at Columbia Theological Seminary has been wonderful. I'm in a class right now with pastors/thinkers from all over the United States (California, New Jersey, North Dakota, Alabama, Georgia, Florida) and the entire world (Taiwan, South Africa, and Korea).

We cover every denomination in Protestant faith: Churches of Christ, Baptist, Presbyterian, Methodist, Pentecostal, etc. We're realizing that as different as we are (and we are different!) our struggle is the same because all of us are trying to do ministry/think theologically in (mostly) the same stream: North America.

I just learned that my next course is slated to be with Walter Brueggemann, the Michael Jordan of Old Testament studies over the last thirty years.

---

Some sports side notes:

*I can't believe the Lakers laid that size of an egg. Wow. I'm stunned.

*Marcus Thames, as Kara will attest, is a great player to root for. He's humble, likable, and just shows up and puts in the work. All he's done now is tie the Tigers record for consecutive home runs for hits.

*The trade rumor mills say Tayshaun and Chauncey for Carmello. If Denver is that dumb to do it, I think it's a great trade. Though, 'Mello and 'Sheed on the same team might be a recipe for disaster.

I am so proud!

Josh is in Atlanta right now about to start his first class for his doctoral program, so I (Kara, the wife/best friend) am guest-posting tonight to let you all see some pictures from today. I took over 100 pictures, so these are just a few of them!

I am so proud of Josh, he works so hard in his job, at school, and at home and he still dedicated himself to training hard over the winter for today's triathlon. My favorite thing in the world is to cheer him on, and today was so exciting! I actually enjoyed it more than the marathon because the three different events bring so much energy, and the courses were pretty close so I was able to run and catch him at different spots. 

Although he said it was a lot harder than he thought it would be, he gave each event his all and finished strong in a time that he had hoped for. 

I am so proud of you Josh, you were awesome today and you should feel great about this victory!

Restless

Trying to sleep the night before a triathlon reminds me of being a young boy (six or seven) the night before Christmas.

Kara had some young girls from our church stay the night at our house a few years ago. One girl was so anxious, she came into our room and told Kara, "Mrs. Kara . . . I think I forgot how to fall asleep."

Amen.  

Sunday's Comin'

What does one think about less than 48 hours before his first triathlon? . . .

"A marathon doesn't sound too bad right now."

"Why did I let my family talk me into this?"

"I wonder if there's a chicken exit?"

"Man, that water is going to be cold."

"If a woman gets in my way in the river, will I swim over her?"

"Am I swimming first, then biking, then running? Or is it the other way around?"

"What if I have to go to the bathroom?"

"Will shaving my chest make me faster?"

"Drowning in the Detroit River isn't the worse way to die."

"Do those bike crashes you see on t.v. (where one idiot crashes 50 people) really happen?"

"I should've stuck with church softball."

Listen to Your Life

Parker Palmer taught me several years back. Palmer came to speak in Nashville when I was a graduate student at Lipscomb University.

I remember sitting next to my friend and mentor, John. He leaned over and said, “This guy is incredible. You will really enjoy this.”

Palmer is well known in academia for his work on education, learning, and teaching. I expected a technical lesson on the finer points of communication. Instead, Palmer brought a prophetic word. This is how I remember the hour we spent with him.

“All of us live our lives as if we were on stage,” Palmer quipped at one point. I leaned in, conjuring up my own images of Shakespeare’s conviction that “all the world’s a stage and we are merely players.”

Palmer continued.

“Many of us live on this stage unaware that we’ve constructed a curtain which divides the front stage from the back stage. The front stage is our public persona—who we want people to think we are. Smart, funny, successful, beautiful, talented, organized, brilliant, caring . . . these are merely some of the characteristics we display while acting and living on the front stage.”

He had me.

“The problem is that we tend to be very different people once we are on the other side of the curtain. Behind the curtain, we take off our hypocrite mask. We lay it down and we allow our true selves to come out. We usually do this when we are alone or in the company of a select few. We speak what we really think. We respond to what really matters to us. We are cynical, jaded. We are full of joy and confidence. We let our hair down, as it were, and allow our true selves to emerge from the cave in which we’ve been hiding.”

This was one of those moments in which I was listening intently while also drowning in my own background and history—remembering times I’d done exactly what Palmer was describing.

“The greatest danger in this identity construct,” Palmer’s voice now rose with passion. “ . . . The greatest danger in this is that we live our lives on the front stage that we completely begin to believe that the front stage is all there is. We act, we pretend, and we perform. And when we do, we eliminate the things that make us human: raw emotion, hurt, pain, joy, passion are thrown away.”

This is one of my fears for our churches . . . that we convince ourselves it is all about having the perfect sermon, the right program, or the slick pr approach. We work, work, and work some more (and ask you to join us in that busyness) and we rarely, if ever, stop to ask for God to quiet our performance and instill us with his power and his presence.

His power raises us from the dead. Our power put him on the cross in the first place. His presence allows us to live with hope amidst a broken world. Our presence leads to division and strife.

Cold Rivers

With less than one week away from the Motor City Triathlon, my brother and I decided Saturday to test out the waters (literally) of the Detroit River in preparation for the chaos this coming weekend.

Water Temperature: 59 degrees.

Let's just say that the difference between training in a heat-controlled environment at my fancy health club versus being in the Detroit River with 20mph winds and cool temps is the difference between sitting in a seminary classroom talking about grief versus sitting across the room from a parent who has just lost a child; like watching a video on pregnancy versus actually giving birth.

I was not prepared at all for the "real conditions."

So, it got me thinking a bit about our privatized Christian bubbles and the spiritual ghetto's we sometimes create in the name of safety and fear.

The only way to be prepared for the elements of this world is to, well, be fully invested in this world.

I think I'll go make a few calls to price the cost of renting a wet-suit.

The interview with McLaren went well. Too tired to do a long summary.

The highlight for me (other than McLaren's references to Restoration history) happened early in the conversation. When I asked him what he meant by the statement, "Eschatology always wins" (a question I got from my good friend Lee Camp's interview of McLaren on the site for his new exciting integration of theology, literature, and music, Tokens)?

His response was simple.

"If you think your house is going to burn down the next day, you are not going to be motivated to clean up your room."

What if the house isn't going to burn down? The question you ask almost always determines the answer you conjure.

McLaren Interview

I am about to interview Brian McLaren for Wineskins Magazine. His new book, Finding Our Way Again, is excellent. This book is the perfect follow-up to Everything Must Change.

I'll post later this afternoon about our conversation.

If you have not signed up for ZOE-Dallas, it's going to be a great event. Teaching at ZOE s always one of the highlights of the year for me.

Texas Lessons

I was fortunate to spend yesterday with people from the Bammel Church of Christ in Houston. Jonathan Ross invited me several months back to speak at their "Life In the Red Zone" summer series.

Before I began the teaching time for their Wednesday night service, I shared my "Most Important Facts to Know About Texas." I figured I'd be back on the plane at 5am this morning, . . . it was worth the risk.

Cue the dramatic music. Here are the most important facts to know.

#1 Not every city looks like Abilene.

#2 Evidently, a football team plays in Dallas.

#3 Despite the legend of the Alamo, Nolan Ryan's destruction of Robin Ventura is the stuff real legends are made of.

#4 The Bammel Ministry Staff might be the best ping pong cohort in Churches of Christ.

#5 (H)Akeem Olajuwon no longer plays for the Rockets.

#6 "Gringos" is a restaurant not a derogatory Spanish term reserved for White Americans.

I thought it would be arrogant to have seven, but then again . . . I'm not Jewish.

#7 There are actually four countries in North America: Canada, Mexico, U.S.A., and . . . Texas

#7b (Dr. Pepper is from Texas not heaven . . . who knew?) . . . this one didn't make the cut.

The Eternal Appetite of Infancy

From G.K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy:

. . . it might be true that sun rises regularly because he never gets tired of rising. His routine might be due, not to a lifelessness, but to a rush of life. The thing I mean can be seen, for instance, in children, when they find some game or joke that they specially enjoy. A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grow-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes daisies alike; it may be that God makes ever daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that he has the eternal appetite of infancy, for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.

Introducing Jesus . . .

Christ Church Macomb

Over two years ago, John Laster and I birthed a vision to the Rochester Church to begin a multi-site approach for reaching lost, disenfranchised, disillusioned, marginalized people.

That vision is now a reality.

Last week the leadership team finished sharing their life journey's with each other (genograms).

Here's a photo of most of the team celebrating this milestone.



One of the great joys of ministry is seeing a blank sheet of paper turn into a formidable ministry. CC:M's site pastor, Andy Harrison, did a great job this weekend handling the teaching time. I can't wait to see what God is going to do through this team.

Running

Today is a day in which I'm actually glad to be training for the Motor City Sprint Triathlon coming up in less than a month. This morning I went for a nice, long run and I've felt great all day. Running does that to me for some reason. I know some people hate it . . . some days I hate it. But most days, after I make it past the first ten minutes, I get into a rhythm, and let my mind drift off to theological debates, the Tigers chances of making the playoffs, is Chauncey Billups going to start to dominate the Boston series, a new course I'm teaching in Uganda this summer, who did I forget to call last night, how did I drop that ball at first base last night in our softball game?

And usually, around the 30 or 50 minute mark, after time with Bruce or Bono is finished, I take a nice long walk. Occasionally I get the proverbial "runner's high" . . . most times, I just feel at peace.

We are flesh and spirit, body and soul. Running keeps me connected and whole.

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.

I find myself resting in this commentary by James Francis and his depiction of Jesus as the successful "nobody."

“Jesus was born in an obscure village. . . .He never wrote a book. He never held an office. . . . [Yet] all the armies that have ever marched, all the navies that were ever built, all the parliaments that have ever sat, and all the kings that have ever ruled, put together, have not affected the life of man upon this earth like this one solitary personality.”

Bob Russell, former long-time pastor of Southeast Christian Church in Louisville, Kentucky will be preaching at Rochester Church in all three services tomorrow. If you live in the metro area, come out to hear a man of integrity and passion.

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.

The Power of Touch

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 Color of Water

A few months ago, I mentioned the best-selling book The Color of Water. As I prepare to teach and preach this weekend, I've been drawn back to this amazing story and the way in which it connects with Mary, the mother of Jesus.

About ten years ago, James McBride wrote a book about his mother that captured the hearts of many Americans. The book, The Color of Water, is his tribute to his mother who raised twelve children on her own in the Red Hook Housing Projects in Harlem, New York City. “As a boy . . . James knew his mother was different. But when he asked about it, she’d simply say, ‘I’m light skinned.’ Later he wondered if he was different, too, and asked his mother if he was black or white. ‘You’re a human being,’ she snapped.”

On another occasion, after a rousing experience in church, James asked his mother if God was white or black. “God is a spirit . . . neither. God is the color of water.”
When James was 14, his stepfather died. His biological father, a devout Christian who stared the Brown Memorial Baptist Church in Harlem which still stands today, died while his mother carried him in her womb. The death of two husbands sent his mother into a state of chaos. She coped by riding her bike all over Harlem. While most drove cars, took the bus, hopped on the subway, she decided to ride her red bike through the busy streets of America’s biggest city. “The image of her riding that bike bicycle typified her whole existence to me. Her oddness, her complete nonawareness of what the world thought of her, nonchalance in the face of what I perceived to be imminent danger from blacks and whites who disliked her for being a white person in a black world. She saw none of it.”

The Color of Water is the story of his mother’s life—a story of a rabbi’s daughter (she was Jewish ethnically but later became a bible believing Christian because of the acceptance she experienced in the black Christian community), born in Poland, raised a southerner, abused by the men in her life, only to escape to New York City to make a new life for herself and her children. In the end, all twelve of her children attended college: they became doctors, lawyers, teachers, and psychologists. From the projects to Harvard, their mother’s eccentric ways and unrelenting love pushed them to seize all that life offered. In retrospect, all of her children realized that their mother’s love was like the power of the moon. “It’s what made the river flow, the ocean swell, and the tide rise, but it was a silent power, intractable, indomitable, and thus completely ignorable.”

Education and Spirtual Formation

Saturday’s graduation at Rochester College was an interesting event. I sat and watched student after student (some I know well, others seeing for the first time) receive their diploma. Near the very end, a young handicap female student came onto the stage. All of the sudden, the room changed. The meaning of the day became all together different. She carefully controlled her wheelchair and with a deep smile accepted the diploma she’d worked tirelessly to attain. And she graciously accepted the rousing applause offered by the audience.

I often forget what a privilege education is. For a young minister just beginning his doctoral work, it was a powerful reminder that each person is their own “story”—presented with challenges, questions, and obstacles unique to their own circumstances. Some folks are dealt a relatively easy “hand.” That would be me. Others are dealt a hand of hardship and adversity. And, yet, many find a way to take on the strength of that which they overcome.

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My small group is doing an intense study on “spiritual disciplines” right now. There seems to be a great deal of buzz around the phrases “spiritual formation” and “spiritual disciplines.” As one of my friends pointed out, this is not the same discussion as conversations of old regarding sanctification, holiness, and morality. This is an attempt to historically connect with the practices that have stood the test of two thousand (or more) years.

The formation stream has many tributaries.

• Holiness: Having pure thoughts, words, actions, and overcoming temptation.
• Contemplative: Spending time with God in prayer and meditation.
• Social Justice: Helping the invisible among us.
• Charismatic: Nurturing and exercising my spiritual gifts by the power of the spirit.
• Evangelical: Sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ and reading the Scriptures.
• Incarnational: Unifying the sacred secular areas of my life while showing forth God’s presence.

Over the next few months, our group is going to spend two weeks reflecting and responding to our study of each stream. For the next two weeks, we’re focusing on the “contemplative stream.” Silence, breath prayers, devotional reading and personal written prayers will be our focus.

Confession: I’m strong in the “social justice” and “Incarnational” streams but struggle in the “charismatic” and “contemplative” (unless academic reading counts) areas.

How about you?

This week, I'm following two great discussions. One has to do with how we interpret the Bible in a complex culture. The other is about "a guy going to see about a girl"--to use a line from a recent American classic film.

. . . A Marathon Ain't So Bad

As I've noted in prior posts, my brother and I are training for a triathlon this summer. As a gesture of full support and solidarity, my dad e-mailed this story to us yesterday. All the sudden, a marathon is looking pretty tempting.

Great White Killed Triathlete

An L.A.-based shark expert, examining two tooth fragments extracted from the body of a 66-year old triathlete, confirmed a 15-to-16-foot great white killed the man off the coast of San Diego last week, according to the Associated Press. While training in Solana Beach, David Martin was lifted out of the water by the shark, pulled underwater, resurfaced to scream “shark,” and went under again.

The shark quickly fled. Several other swimmers pulled the victim to shore, but it was too late. The retired veterinarian quickly died of blood loss from the massive injury that crossed both legs. Scientists theorize that the shark mistook Martin’s black wetsuit for a tasty sea lion. A member of the Triathlon Club of San Diego and 40-year resident of the area, Martin was a dedicated athlete, frequently using the beach for training.

Click here to read the rest of the story.

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.

Heaven

I love this piece from L.A. Times writer, Joel Stein.

I have a bad habit of annoying Christians. Partly it's because I don't believe in Jesus, and partly it's because Jesus keeps letting me write columns about how I don't believe in Jesus.Last March, after some campaigning, I got Starbucks to put a quote from me on the their paper cups. It said:

"Heaven is totally overrated. It seems boring. Clouds, listening to people play the harp. It should be somewhere you can't wait to go, like a luxury hotel. Maybe blue skies and soft music were enough to keep people in line in the 17th century, but heaven has to step it up a bit. They're basically getting by because they only have to be better than hell." It is, indeed, kind of disgusting that Starbucks sells coffee cups that big.

I wasn't surprised that I got a lot of angry e-mails and letters. But I was surprised that a stranger cared enough to send me the book "Heaven" by Randy C. Alcorn. In the next few months, four other people sent me the same book -- one of them inscribed to me and autographed. It made me seriously consider writing a column about how I don't believe in bottles of Chateau D'Yquem.

The first thing I learned from reading "Heaven" that made me feel stupid was that my joke was not only overwritten but really old. Gary Larson did it in a "Far Side" cartoon with a guy on a cloud saying, "Wish I'd brought a magazine." Mark Twain did it in "Huckleberry Finn." Isaac Asimov -- who was not even funny -- said, "For whatever the tortures of hell, I think the boredom of heaven would be even worse."The book is 533 pages long, so I decided to just call Alcorn at his ministry in Oregon. He's one of the foremost non-dead experts on heaven, having also written "50 Days of Heaven," "In Light of Eternity: Perspectives on Heaven" and "Heaven for Kids." Alcorn said that a few outraged people had shown him my Venti cup. It made him laugh. "Not because I thought it was silly, but because I believed it, in essence," he said. "Hey, I agree. The Christian church has communicated an extremely boring view of heaven. I think it's wrongheaded and flat unbiblical.

"The clouds-and-harp version came about for two reasons, Alcorn told me. One is Satan. The other is the early church fathers who tried to blend the Bible with Greek philosophy and wound up with a Platonic version of the afterlife stripped of the physical. In the heaven in Alcorn's book, he imagines we'll be riding on the backs of brontosauruses and throwing baseballs with Andy Pettitte. This does not sound like it will be heaven for brontosauruses or Andy Pettitte.

But that's actually the heaven on Earth that only gets going after the return of Christ. Until then, our souls are hanging out in intermediate heaven -- a place a lot less physical and awesome -- and much of our time is spent watching events on Earth. Which sounds pretty boring. "If you didn't have the promise of resurrection and new Earth, and all you had was this unnatural state, I would say that, yeah, by our present standards, that doesn't sound exciting to us," Alcorn said. And remember, some Christians have been in intermediate heaven for about 2,000 years. The brontosauruses maybe a few thousand years longer, depending on your views on science.

When Alcorn pointed out that I could have conversations with Socrates and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. in intermediate heaven, I was pretty sure that I'd get, at best, a book signing from those guys. Most of my time would be spent talking to the kind of people who send me unsolicited books.

Alcorn reaffirmed my confidence in my cup quote. So I called Shelly Migliaccio, who'd sent me the autographed book. She used to go to Starbucks twice a week, but my quote made her so mad that she has boycotted it ever since. Yet she sent me a nice note and an autographed book. Still, all things considered, I'd rather be Starbucks."I was thinking it was sad that you looked at heaven that way. I wanted you to know about the heaven I know about and I look forward to go to," she told me over the phone. "Life here on Earth can be so trying sometimes, and I just anticipate it."

In Migliaccio's heaven, the colors are more brilliant, we all have jobs we love, we are free of the lies and horrible stuff she sees on the news. And, at least for the little while we were on the phone, I believed in Migliaccio's heaven too.

EA

Tonight is one of my favorite nights of the year in the life of our church. Tonight is Emerging Artists Night. We'll have great music, a slam poet, a short film by moi, and a special rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by Chris Lindsey and Patrick Mead.

I'm excited to see how local churches continue to engage the arts in the future. It just might be one of the more important evangelism projects of the 21st century.

What makes tonight extra special? We have 32 homeless men, women, and children (our friends) living in our church building as part of a transitional program known as South Oakland Shelter. Tonight will be one of those nights where I can see, hear and feel the Way of Jesus as the best way to be human.

Why I Practice Sabbath

We dance in rhythm with God when we keep the Sabbath. The reason we are called to take a day of rest is simple. Humans tend to forget that we did not make the world and thus, the world does not depend upon us.Barbara Brown Taylor tells a story about a friend growing up in Atlanta and what her good friend David taught her about fidelity to God. “When I was a junior in high school, my boyfriend Herb played on the varsity basketball team. He was not the star player however. The star player was a boy named David, who scored so many points during his four-year career that the coach retired his jersey when he graduated. This would have been remarkable under any circumstances, but it was doubly so since David did not play on Friday nights. On Friday nights, David observed the Sabbath with the rest of his family, who generously withdrew when David’s gentile friends arrived, sweaty and defeated, after Friday night home games.”

Following each Friday night game, David’s friends came to his house to describe the game in great detail. “Blow by blow” the Gentiles were allowed to speak and create worlds in David’s living room.I still remember the night someone asked David if it did not kill him to have to sit home on Friday nights while his team was getting slaughtered in the high school gymnasium.

“No one makes me do this,” he said. “I’m a Jew, and Jews observe the Sabbath.” Six days a week, he said, he loved nothing more than playing basketball and he gladly gave all he had to the game. On the seventh day, he loved being a Jew more than he loved playing basketball, and he just as gladly gave all he had to the Sabbath. Sure, he felt a tug, but that was the whole point. Sabbath was his chance to remember what was really real. Once three stars were visible in the Friday night sky, his identity as a Jew was more real to him than his identity as the star of our basketball team.

Christians need to create intentional regular spaces of time in which we do not work, email, fax, clean, do laundry. A time when we allow our hearts settle and the voices hush. Sabbath is a time when we remember that God made the world and rested; that He calls us to rest with him, to hear his voice, and to be clearly aware of his presence.

And it is a time to remember, according to the Hebrew Testament relationship between Sabbath and Jubilee, that there will be a day when all peoples of the world will rest—not just the ones who can financially afford to take a day off. In a very real sense, Sabbath-keeping reminds us that we are pilgrims in a foreign land, awaiting the world to become what she was meant to be. We remember vividly that, although God made the world, the world is not the way God made it. When we keep Sabbath we proclaim to the rest of the world, that God is about the business of making things new. If busyness is a sin, Sabbath is the one means by which we can become more like the person God created us to be.

See: Barbara Brown Taylor in Leaving Church (Boston: Cowley Press, 2005), 136-137 and Walter Brueggemann’s Finally Comes the Poet: Daring Speech for Proclamation (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989), 90-99.

Hair VS Weight

Some of your comments reminded me of a debate I used to have with one of my college basketball teammates.

At the age of 30 (which I'm closing in on), would you rather weigh near what you weighed at 22 and be in the process of losing your hair . . . OR . . . would you rather gain 25 lbs and maintain a head full of flowing locks?

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I will have two or three highly abstract and theological posts after these last two.

On Losing My Hair

It happens to a large part of the male population. It is something that some men scoff at, “it’s no big deal.” Others fret, worry, and obsess with their larger forehead.

I got my haircut this morning at Fantastic Sam’s. I always go to Fantastic Sam’s. Mainly because the ladies who work there are from Eastern Europe and, in my next life, I plan on being a spy planted in Kazakhstan.

Today, while getting my hairs cut sitting in the “big chair,” I realized, “Wow, I’m really losing my hair.” No before you guys with full mops start to feel good about yourself, losing one’s hair does not mean your manliness is dissipating. I’m in better shape now than I was at 25. So, back off.

I think that losing one’s hair is important for a few reasons. First, it humbles me a great deal. I am no longer, despite the mental games I play, the 21 year old who could eat four full meals plus two bowls of ice cream, all while staying right at 195 lbs. I actually need seven or eight ours of sleep, not the four or five that got me through college.

Second, it reminds me that there’s a brighter day on its way. A day when God is going to renew our bodies, and our earth. I don’t subscribe to the pop-theology that believes God is going to burn up the earth and give us harps and a cloud for eternity. Frankly, that sounds closer to hell than heaven. I think God is going to redeem his own world. And, in that world, I hope I have Fabio-like hair. Or, I’d settle for hair like Magglio Ordonez.

Now, when I look in the mirror, I don’t worry too much. I remind myself that from dust I came and to dust I shall return.

Baracky: The Movie

The Preacher King

This fall, my alma mater, is hosting one of the more exciting conferences in the U.S. I'm working on a film right now for this conference. Make plans to attend. David Fleer is using his gift, once again, to bring men and women of all different stripes to study and challenge each other. This event is for ministers, pastors, and scholars alike.

I wrote this review in preparation for the conference. It's a bit long. If you are a reader (and nerd), enjoy.



Review of Richard Lischer’s The Preacher King
ISBN 978-0-511132-3

Richard Lischer, scholar and professor at Duke Divinity, supplies both the student of history and local pastor a wonderful gift with his work, The Preacher King: Martin Luther King Jr. and the Word that Moved America. Combining history, theology, New Testament scholarship, politics, and narrative criticism as very few can—Lischer paints a detailed yet complete picture of the life and legacy of one of America’s great religious leaders.

I suggest Richard Lischer’s Preacher King in preparation for the 2008 Lipscomb Preaching Conference for two reasons. First, Lischer has the rare ability to capture the tension and ethos of 1960’s America. The Civil Right Era has become a source of nostalgia for some. Lischer refuses to buy into this hype-machine by closely immersing himself back into the world of those who marched in Selma, Montgomery, and Memphis. “Despite the enforced intimacy of the races, a rigid caste system, buttressed by dozens of local statutes, forbade blacks and whites to acknowledge the life they in fact held in common. A local statute went so far as to bar whites and blacks from playing cards, dice, checkers, or dominoes together. Restrooms and drinking fountains were clearly marked. By law, a white person and a Negro could not share a taxi. The segregation of restaurants and public transportation was carried out with a routine cruelty that left the black citizens of Montgomery, like those of most southern cities, humiliated and burning with resentment.” You will find an absence of over-sentimentalized anecdotes and conversations: Lischer understands all too well how the stakes were during this tumultuous period in American history.

Second, Lischer paints a nuanced portrait of Dr. King as the Civil Right’s Moses-figure. Lischer pays close attention to Dr. King’s ethos, rhetorical skill, knowledge of the teachings of Jesus, historical context, intellectual heroes, as well as his intense personal connection to the African-American church. Unlike some depictions, Lischer avoids the pitfalls of depicting King a secular humanitarian or as a mere social insurrectionist with an axe to grind. Rather, Lischer clearly demonstrates the manner in which Dr. King sees his own life as a holy improvisation, living out the dangerous love of Jesus in marches, prisons, restaurant sit-ins, and church bombings. With racism (Pharaoh) pressing in, Jim Crow government laws forming insurmountable walls on all sides (Red Sea), King (Moses) led his people to the other side. Dr. King prepared the people for what God was going to do next (Canaan) though he himself, like Moses, would not experience the land “flowing with milk and honey.” Lischer presents Dr. King for what he was: a young black Baptist preacher-prophet who named, exposed, and in his death, unmasked the systemic powers of darkness. This book will prepare you to re-imagine the God who liberates (all) his people from oppression and domination.

Life, Death, New Life

I spent part of the last two days at a local hospital.

Johnny and Erin Pleasant (two very close friends), welcomed their first child into the world: Logan Palmer Pleasant. He's a beautiful healthy boy. He weighed six pounds and measured in, if my memory is correct, at 19 inches. He's already a Duke fan, I'm told, just like his daddy.

Another young family from our church welcomed their fifth child into this world a few rooms down the hall from the Pleasant family.

Just two floors below them, a young twenty-four year old woman (whose parents are rock solid members of our church community) lost her life after she suffered a brain aneurysm while giving birth to her first child: a sweet young girl named Skylar Nicole. Skylar's dad, widower and first time dad at the tender age of twenty-four, is now left to pick up the pieces of death's cruel destruction.

This is one of the worst tragedies I've witnessed in eight years of ministry. Words only make things worse in this scenario. If you are interested in helping young Skylar and her father (Alan), you can give a tax-deductible gift to:

Skylar Nicole Trust
Charter One Bank
27375 23 Mile Road
Chesterfield, MI 48051


"Humans do not lose control. We lose the illusion that we were ever in control in the first place."

Bishop (Brother) Wright

Some things just click with me.

Like watching Denzel Washington play the role of Malcolm X perfectly. Witnessing Larry Bird shoot a three-pointer or eating my grandmother’s cream corn. Listening to Bruce Springsteen sing We Shall Overcome on his new album. Certain things in life rise up and grab your heart.

That’s how I felt when I first met Kara: we just naturally fell into a holy rhythm.

That’s what the scholarship, work, and writing of N.T. Wright means to me. From his scholarly work (click here here and here) to his more popular work (here and here)—Wright has emerged as the single most important and influential scholar/preacher/story-teller/linguist/theologian of the twenty-first century. Moreover, I get him and I appreciate his voice.

I can’t say that about all scholars. I struggle through much of Kierkegaard, Kant, Wittgenstein, Tillich, Barth, Crossan et al. Their work is hard work. Rewarding, but hard work nonetheless.

However, with Wright, I get it. All of it. Down to the last footnote. He has a way of simplifying the most complex elements of religious scholarship (philosophy, history, theology, textual analysis) without making those things trite, trendy, or commercialized.

His newest book came in the mail this week and I can’t put it down. This work, by the way, is a summary of Jesus and the Resurrection of the Son of God.

We cannot use a supposedly objective historical epistemology as the ultimate ground for the truth of Easter. To do so would be like lighting a candle to see whether the sun had risen. What the candles of historical scholarship will do is to show that the room has been disturbed, that it doesn't look like it did last night, and that would-be normal explanations for this won't do. Maybe, we think after the historical arguments have done their work, maybe morning has come and the world has woken up. But to investigate whether this is so, we must take the risk and open the curtains to the rising sun. When we do so, we won't rely on the candles anymore, not because we don't believe in evidence and argument but because they will have been overtaken by the larger reality from which they borrow, to which they point, and in which they find a new and larger home, Surprised by Hope (pg. 74).

Josh, Kite Runner, Leno

Josh Ross spent the weekend with us. He taught at our annual young adult formation retreat. He also preached (with me) three times on Sunday morning at Rochester Church (four if you add CC:M). He is truly a gifted teacher and preacher of the Jesus Story. He got to see two of the Tigers well-publicized losses while in the D. Maybe he's bad luck. No . . .maybe the Tigers are simply "fat cats" . . .

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Kara and I watched The Kite Runner tonight. I read the book this summer during our Florida vacation. I sat on the beach, paralyzed by this story, perhaps one of the great redemption narratives of our generation. Movies are never as good as the book. Never.

Yet, I admit, this movie is almost as good as the book. I'm going to be teaching our mid-week service tomorrow night about spiritual friendship using this book as the beginning point.

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Heard on Jay Leno tonight. "The Tigers are 0-6 (actually, now they are 0-7). That's incredible. They are scoring less than Mayor Kilpatrick." Nice, Jay. Kick us while we're down. We'll be back.

Rock-Chalk Jayhawk

I've blogged about my battle with worshipping basketball. So, this is not a new subject.

I've been a Kansas Jayhawk fan almost as long as I've been a Piston fan. I grew up in Wichita, Kansas from 1981-87. When you live in Kansas, no disrespect, but you don't have a lot to root for. Yes, you have the Royals and the Chiefs.

The one thing you can truly boast in . . . the Jayhawks.

1. James Naismith, the inventor of hoops, coached at Kansas. BTW--he's the only coach in KU history to have a losing record.

2. Dean Smith played at KU.

3. Wilt Chamberlain played at KU.

4. KU is in the top three for all-time NCAA wins.

5. Rock-Chalk Jayhawk. The greatest chant in all of sports.

We'll see how Kansas matches up with the speed and athleticism of Memphis. I think Kansas will pull it out in the final two minutes of the game: 74-69. Then again, I've picked them every year since 1989.

MLK and the Good Samaritan

On this day, the 40th anniversary of Dr. King's tragic death in Memphis, we pause to remember a man who gave his life (as did Jesus of Nazareth) to show the world that love, not violence, is the most powerful force in the universe.

A true revolution of values will soon cause us to question the fairness and justice of many of our past and present policies. On the one hand, we are called to play the Good Samaritan on life's roadside, but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho Road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life's highway. True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar. It comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring, (Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. at the Riverside Church in New York City on April 4, 1967).

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.”

A Jesus Story . . .

Two men decide to go to church one Sunday. One is a preacher, the other, a biker.

The preacher gets to church early. He turns his computer on in his cozy office. He checks over his notes one last time, combing every last detail and transition. Feeling a twinge of doubt creep into his gut he looks up at his wall to view his theology degrees hanging in great pride.

The preacher walks into the sanctuary prepared for worship. He holds his hands high in the air and declares, “God, thank-you for making me a leader of leaders. I teach, tithe, and volunteer with the homeless. It’s good to be me.”

The other man, the biker, comes into the worship service ten minutes late. Several pairs of eyes meet his. He doesn’t fit the church-going look. Unsure of where to sit, the biker walks close to the front—greasy jeans, tattoos, big black boots and all. As he walks toward the front the chain attached to his hip smacks against his leather coat.

During one of the worship songs (“Who would’ve thought that a lamb would rescue the souls of men?”), the biker drops his head, and presses his right hand against his chest. “God, I sure have made a mess of my life—please, please, forgive me.”

Two men went to church to pray. One was a minister with all the right credentials. The other was a man who loved Harley’s more than the air in his lungs. The man who’d lived a hard life went home justified. The minister just went home. Why? Jesus gives us the answer, “For whoever thinks highly of himself will be humbled. Whoever is humbled will be justified.”

Jesus told that story. It’s in Luke’s gospel. I like it, but some stories Jesus told really irritate me. Actually, some stories haunt me, and keep me up at night. Christianity becomes something different when Jesus begins to keep you up at night. It’s one thing when the Tigers or your shopping list keeps you awake. It’s another when it’s Jesus that won’t allow you a peaceful night’s rest.