I just finished watching Everything is Spiritual (hour long teaching by Rob Bell). In this film, Bell takes on the relationship of religion and science (specifically spirituality and quantum physics) and demonstrates the way in which religion and science are in dialog (not argumentation) with each other. NOTE: Bell admits his subjective starting point. That is, Bell is a theist. Bell is more than a theist, he's a follower of Jesus' teachings.
Everything is Spiritual is brilliant. Besides, if nothing else . . . you will watch it and finally understand every episode of LOST that's ever confused you (as I've heard is happening in some circles).
Everything is spiritual.
Everything is connected.
Showing posts with label Spirituality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spirituality. Show all posts
25 April 2009
07 March 2009
Being in a Chaotic World
Interesting opinions piece in the N.Y. Times recently.
Scot McKnight has a brilliant little piece on "Impostor Syndrome"
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I was in a conversation with good friends recently about the power of knowing the stories of those around us. Kara started talking about how important genograms (gee-know-grams or gen-o-grams depending upon whether you say tu-mate-o or ta-mawt-o) have been in our Rochester Church life group.
1. Knowing someone's story (where they come from, their values, hurts, dreams, and hang-ups) allows you to more easily extend grace to each other.
2. Knowing someone's story gives you the tools and language to speak into their life when the time comes. Some people need a swift kick while others need a pastoral touch. Figuring out who needs what is one of the challenges of deep spiritual friendship.
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The previous would've helped a Christian group I recently spent time with. On the SW side of Detroit, you'll find the largest Arab population in the world (outside the Middle East of course). Mostly Muslim (not all Arabs are Muslim . . . some are Chaldean Christian) many immigrants from Yemen, Iran, and Iraq call this rough place home. There's a remarkable Christian outreach ministry to the poor here in SW Detroit.
Along with several students at RC, I spent the bulk of Wednesday at two different mosque's. Say what you will about Islam (and there's a lot to say, God knows they have as many challenges if not more than Christianity right now) . . . we're still talking about people. The Christian group we were with tried to convince us to debate the imam's, a sort of no-holds-bar-death-debate. Most of our students declined saying, "We'd rather attempt to truly understand Islam before we critique it." Students from another university were ripe for the debate. They launched into a contrived (and logically shallow) war of words with a local imam who was clearly too much (intellectually speaking).
I'm not interested in saying that Muslims and Christians are the same. This simply isn't true. There is much of which we disagree. However, our differences must never allow us to avoid the hard work of having authentic dialog that is more than simply political posturing and religious rant. I'm fond of the Jesus Story in which he demonstrates the ways in which Jews and Samaritans (two religions at odds with each other, both prone to violence and terrorist activity) have to continue to see each other as people . . . not principles or intellectual problems to be solved. When I listen to people rant about Islam for instance, I usually follow with a simple statement, "You might be right about what you just said. But let me ask you this. How many Muslims do you know by name?"--BTW, the same question I ask when someone demeans the homeless, etc.
Besides, if you are going to be the kind of Christian who might influence Muslims to consider Christ as God-in-the-flesh (what Christians call evangelism ) . . . that will likely take place because they've encountered an unmistakable and unshakable confidence in who God is calling me to be, the way in which I live that out. Some say this is naive. Some say this is not logical.
It's called the Jesus Way. It's called the way of Incarnation. Paul said it best. "While we were still God's enemies, God died for us." That fundamentally changes the way in which we engage our alleged/legit enemies.
Besides, what's harder: Hiding behind passionate arguments or taking the time to truly know someone, to hear their story, to understand what makes them them?
20 February 2009
Toilets
Jesus is found in the little things.
I really believe that. Do you?
---
Ever since I can remember, I've been the toilet-cleaner. I'm not speaking in metaphoric terms here (as I'm often prone to do), I'm being as literal as one can be. I remember cleaning toilets as part of my weekly chores growing up in the Graves household. In addition, I also was responsible for the dreaded taking-out-of-the-trash. Compared to scraping the remains of my family's dinner from the bottom of the porcelain throne (as it was called in my circles of friends in high school), taking out the trash was picking daisies.
It is hard to take yourself too seriously when you clean toilets. It gives you a sense that we are all, as Genesis gently reminds us, created from dust and to that dust we will all return. We are created, finite, beings. Complex? Of course. But temporary. At least for now.
I ate breakfast with a respected friend recently when he started telling me how he now cleans the toilets where he works. Every week, he loads up his three children, and for nearly three hours, they vacuum, wash, scrub and . . . miracle of miracles . . . they clean toilets. One little detail I've left out--this friend is the Vice President of this company, on his way to being President in a few short years.
Since Kara and I have been married it's my job to clean toilets. Now to be fair, I probably don't do as much "around the house" (a Midwestern expression) as I should. Kara pays the bills, organizes meals, cleans, monitors the social calendar (did I mention she's pregnant and a full-time grad student?), etc. But the responsibilities of cleaning toilets are set aside for moi.
Barbara Brown Taylor says, in An Altar in the World, that God erects altars all over the world. Spirituality is asking God to give us the eyes to see these holy intersection. In his day, Jesus told his disciples that they couldn't really be his apprentices until they learned to clean toilets. Actually, he said they had to learn to wash feet--one of the most degrading and disgusting acts in the first century.
If we were speaking to us today, I think Jesus would make us clean each other toilets. Seriously. When we moved into our first house, the one we currently live in, our friends, the Barton's (John, Sara, Nate and Brynn) were some of the first to arrive to help us move in. True to their character (they lived in East Africa for several years prior to coming to Rochester), their very first act was to clean both of our bathrooms and replace our toilet seats. Top to bottom. Cleaned to the last detail. Including the toilet.
I've been known tease John Barton (twice my boss: V.P. at RC and elder at Rochester Church) that I think of him every time I'm in my bathroom and . . . well . . . , I'll stop there.
Jesus said that his movement was about towels not titles. I'd like to think that we need to bring people to the same teaching. Jesus' movement is not about titles . . . it's about toilets.
I'm sure marketing guru's all over the world are salivating.
I really believe that. Do you?
---
Ever since I can remember, I've been the toilet-cleaner. I'm not speaking in metaphoric terms here (as I'm often prone to do), I'm being as literal as one can be. I remember cleaning toilets as part of my weekly chores growing up in the Graves household. In addition, I also was responsible for the dreaded taking-out-of-the-trash. Compared to scraping the remains of my family's dinner from the bottom of the porcelain throne (as it was called in my circles of friends in high school), taking out the trash was picking daisies.
It is hard to take yourself too seriously when you clean toilets. It gives you a sense that we are all, as Genesis gently reminds us, created from dust and to that dust we will all return. We are created, finite, beings. Complex? Of course. But temporary. At least for now.
I ate breakfast with a respected friend recently when he started telling me how he now cleans the toilets where he works. Every week, he loads up his three children, and for nearly three hours, they vacuum, wash, scrub and . . . miracle of miracles . . . they clean toilets. One little detail I've left out--this friend is the Vice President of this company, on his way to being President in a few short years.
Since Kara and I have been married it's my job to clean toilets. Now to be fair, I probably don't do as much "around the house" (a Midwestern expression) as I should. Kara pays the bills, organizes meals, cleans, monitors the social calendar (did I mention she's pregnant and a full-time grad student?), etc. But the responsibilities of cleaning toilets are set aside for moi.
Barbara Brown Taylor says, in An Altar in the World, that God erects altars all over the world. Spirituality is asking God to give us the eyes to see these holy intersection. In his day, Jesus told his disciples that they couldn't really be his apprentices until they learned to clean toilets. Actually, he said they had to learn to wash feet--one of the most degrading and disgusting acts in the first century.
If we were speaking to us today, I think Jesus would make us clean each other toilets. Seriously. When we moved into our first house, the one we currently live in, our friends, the Barton's (John, Sara, Nate and Brynn) were some of the first to arrive to help us move in. True to their character (they lived in East Africa for several years prior to coming to Rochester), their very first act was to clean both of our bathrooms and replace our toilet seats. Top to bottom. Cleaned to the last detail. Including the toilet.
I've been known tease John Barton (twice my boss: V.P. at RC and elder at Rochester Church) that I think of him every time I'm in my bathroom and . . . well . . . , I'll stop there.
Jesus said that his movement was about towels not titles. I'd like to think that we need to bring people to the same teaching. Jesus' movement is not about titles . . . it's about toilets.
I'm sure marketing guru's all over the world are salivating.
18 February 2009
The Devil is 24 Hours
I got to hang out in Cass Park this morning with my friend Shaun Hover--just back from working with young adults in India and Pakistan. Some of you will remember Shaun from the stories told here and here and here.
This morning, we spent time following up with different people from this past Sunday's time in The Park. Overall, it was a good morning. We met up, at one point, with Mark. Mark is on his way back, getting out of the cycles of addiction and poverty.
Among other things, I took Mark a suit to wear for an interview he has this week. As I drove him back to where he was staying, the conversation turned to the everyday task of following Jesus ("keeping the Lord first," were his precise words). Towards the end of the conversation, he sad, "I ain't gonna lie to ya. Life's hard right now. Real hard. The devil is 24 hours. Devil don't quit. Always working. Always waiting to get you."
Mark wasn't simply describing a man with a red devil costume on with the proverbial pitch fork in hand. He was talking about the reality that evil is a power in our world. Evil is not merely something we choose, rather, it is an oppressive reality: it seeks to steal, kill, and destroy.
Most folks in the circles I run in don't talk like that. They talk about bad decisions, and poor choices. And I'm all for talking that way myself. But I wonder if we trick ourselves into thinking that we have all the power. That living a virtuous life is simply about me mustering enough logical will to be good. That might be a religion, but it is not the Christian religion. Christianity says that God, in Jesus, has overcome the powers of this world, to make us better than we could ever make ourselves. Or, as one friend wrote this week: God has overcome the strong by his preference for weakness.
The devil is twenty-four hours. All day. Every day. But so is God. So is the Spirit. So is the Jesus who walked among us.
This morning, we spent time following up with different people from this past Sunday's time in The Park. Overall, it was a good morning. We met up, at one point, with Mark. Mark is on his way back, getting out of the cycles of addiction and poverty.
Among other things, I took Mark a suit to wear for an interview he has this week. As I drove him back to where he was staying, the conversation turned to the everyday task of following Jesus ("keeping the Lord first," were his precise words). Towards the end of the conversation, he sad, "I ain't gonna lie to ya. Life's hard right now. Real hard. The devil is 24 hours. Devil don't quit. Always working. Always waiting to get you."
Mark wasn't simply describing a man with a red devil costume on with the proverbial pitch fork in hand. He was talking about the reality that evil is a power in our world. Evil is not merely something we choose, rather, it is an oppressive reality: it seeks to steal, kill, and destroy.
Most folks in the circles I run in don't talk like that. They talk about bad decisions, and poor choices. And I'm all for talking that way myself. But I wonder if we trick ourselves into thinking that we have all the power. That living a virtuous life is simply about me mustering enough logical will to be good. That might be a religion, but it is not the Christian religion. Christianity says that God, in Jesus, has overcome the powers of this world, to make us better than we could ever make ourselves. Or, as one friend wrote this week: God has overcome the strong by his preference for weakness.
The devil is twenty-four hours. All day. Every day. But so is God. So is the Spirit. So is the Jesus who walked among us.
12 February 2009
Time and Space
There are two primary ways the church teaches us to engage God: time and space. We must pay attention to time for it is the most precious gift we can give to God and to others. It is a gift that far outweighs any dollar amount (despite the consumerist notion that "time is money"). Equally important is space. We are called to willingly create space for God in the midst of our crowded schedules.
Time. This is a sensitive subject in our rat-race, gotta-do-one-more-thing culture. We feel a sense of pride when we look at our planners/palm pilots and see "our time" filled up. We feel important. We feel as if we matter. We feel full of purpose. The rub comes in our spiritual assessment of things . . . that is, after running (for God on our best days) we suddenly realize we ceased to pause for the things that ultimately matter, the lasting things.
Space. Though often ignored, space is as important as time. Especially in suburbia where "bigger is better." After all, we want bigger houses, cars, backyards, HD screens, and engagement rings. We may not always know what we want but we know we want it Super-Sized. The downside, of course, of living in a McDonaldized World is that we crowd out room for God's surprises and interruptions.
While technology promises to make life better so that we can have more time and space for others, we slowly become slaves to the very things that are supposed to set us free. We begin to stack bricks for the vacation home, ESPN, Apple, the Shopping Network, The Gap, American Idol, and e-mail (dare I say blogging?).
God wants to meet us in particular moments (time) and particular places (space). But he never forces himself upon us. Like a patient lover, he waits . . . and waits . . . and waits. He waits for us to get serious about how we spend our time and where we spend our space.
Last night, we held a contemplative prayer service at Rochester Church. It was filled with prayers, readings, silence, confession, worship, more silence, repentance, and listening. It was holy because we gave up "our" time and "our" space to hear from the One who spoke creation into being.
Time. This is a sensitive subject in our rat-race, gotta-do-one-more-thing culture. We feel a sense of pride when we look at our planners/palm pilots and see "our time" filled up. We feel important. We feel as if we matter. We feel full of purpose. The rub comes in our spiritual assessment of things . . . that is, after running (for God on our best days) we suddenly realize we ceased to pause for the things that ultimately matter, the lasting things.
Space. Though often ignored, space is as important as time. Especially in suburbia where "bigger is better." After all, we want bigger houses, cars, backyards, HD screens, and engagement rings. We may not always know what we want but we know we want it Super-Sized. The downside, of course, of living in a McDonaldized World is that we crowd out room for God's surprises and interruptions.
While technology promises to make life better so that we can have more time and space for others, we slowly become slaves to the very things that are supposed to set us free. We begin to stack bricks for the vacation home, ESPN, Apple, the Shopping Network, The Gap, American Idol, and e-mail (dare I say blogging?).
God wants to meet us in particular moments (time) and particular places (space). But he never forces himself upon us. Like a patient lover, he waits . . . and waits . . . and waits. He waits for us to get serious about how we spend our time and where we spend our space.
Last night, we held a contemplative prayer service at Rochester Church. It was filled with prayers, readings, silence, confession, worship, more silence, repentance, and listening. It was holy because we gave up "our" time and "our" space to hear from the One who spoke creation into being.
10 February 2009
Book Worms Beware
This blog is for the book worms. Holla. Hope this helps and encourages. Here are some books I read in January:
Like You'd Understand Anyway (Shepard). A terrific collection of short stories, this book is an amazing example of what it truly means to be able to write from the inside of a character/story/particular setting. From a nuclear meltdown in Russia, to a cataclysmic tidal wave in Alaska, this writer can weave a tale with the best of them. I highly recommend this for aspiring story-tellers and emerging writers.
Soul in Society (Dorrien). WARNING: This book is highly academic. Dorrien does an excellent job of capturing one segment of Christianity in America in the 20th Century: mainline Protestantism. It was a great read for me as I'm largely under-read in this area. From Hells Kitchen to the Ivory Tower of Columbia University, Dorrien captures the major players and movements that shaped Christianity from 1900 to present day. First rate primer for those interested in the intersection of history, religion and the public sphere.
Emerging Churches (Gibbs and Bolger). I read this in grad school and thought it was good. I picked it up a few weeks ago and was impressed with the authors' ability to survey emerging movements in U.K. as well as the U.S. Thoroughly researched and carefully crafted, this is the standard survey of the way different groups of Christian faith are choosing to engage contemporary culture with an ancient story.
A Theology of Public Life (Matthewes). Another WARNING: highly academic. The entire work is written for those who have a working knowledge of Augustine's writing and thinking. I know just enough Augustine to get me in trouble. Ha. Anyways, there are sections of this book which help contemporary debates come along. Make no mistake. Pack your lunch for this book. It's a heavyweight fight for 12 rounds.
Jesus Wants to Save Christians (Bell and Golden). Overall, a phenomenal interpretive work bringing the Exodus Story in contemporary American religion discourse. Missional to the core, this is Bell's most "political" book. Of course, by "political" I don't mean Republican or Democrat. I am thinking of the idea that the church is a political force. That is, they are interested in how people construct values, practices, and care.
These are the books I'm reading currently/about to read.
A Mercy (Toni Morrison). Compelling novel set in 17th century America. There are no good characters or bad characters. Every character is complex, full of potential for good and evil. I'm told by others who read a lot of Morrison that this is her best book in years.
An Altar in the World (Barbara Brown Taylor). If you read this blog, it will not surprise you when I say that BBT is perhaps, the best writer of our time. Period. Of course I realize that's an incredibly subjective statement (not to mention I get to study under her this summer). Since 2001, Taylor has been my voice for faith in the midst of doubt. After just getting into the beginning sections, I can tell I'll be reading this book a few times over . . . this year.
Praying Like Jesus (Mulholland). Recommended by this great blogger, Mulholland's ability to capture the mystery of The Lord's Prayer without making things too complex is appealing to me. Mulholland gives particular attention to the way in which The Lord's Prayer critiques consumer culture.
The Great Emergence (Tickle). Rave reviews have passed my ears on this book. Haven't started it yet. Looks powerful. I assume this will be written in the same vein as McLaren's trilogy: A New Kind of Christian, Story We Find Ourselves In, and The Last Word.
Like You'd Understand Anyway (Shepard). A terrific collection of short stories, this book is an amazing example of what it truly means to be able to write from the inside of a character/story/particular setting. From a nuclear meltdown in Russia, to a cataclysmic tidal wave in Alaska, this writer can weave a tale with the best of them. I highly recommend this for aspiring story-tellers and emerging writers.
Soul in Society (Dorrien). WARNING: This book is highly academic. Dorrien does an excellent job of capturing one segment of Christianity in America in the 20th Century: mainline Protestantism. It was a great read for me as I'm largely under-read in this area. From Hells Kitchen to the Ivory Tower of Columbia University, Dorrien captures the major players and movements that shaped Christianity from 1900 to present day. First rate primer for those interested in the intersection of history, religion and the public sphere.
Emerging Churches (Gibbs and Bolger). I read this in grad school and thought it was good. I picked it up a few weeks ago and was impressed with the authors' ability to survey emerging movements in U.K. as well as the U.S. Thoroughly researched and carefully crafted, this is the standard survey of the way different groups of Christian faith are choosing to engage contemporary culture with an ancient story.
A Theology of Public Life (Matthewes). Another WARNING: highly academic. The entire work is written for those who have a working knowledge of Augustine's writing and thinking. I know just enough Augustine to get me in trouble. Ha. Anyways, there are sections of this book which help contemporary debates come along. Make no mistake. Pack your lunch for this book. It's a heavyweight fight for 12 rounds.
Jesus Wants to Save Christians (Bell and Golden). Overall, a phenomenal interpretive work bringing the Exodus Story in contemporary American religion discourse. Missional to the core, this is Bell's most "political" book. Of course, by "political" I don't mean Republican or Democrat. I am thinking of the idea that the church is a political force. That is, they are interested in how people construct values, practices, and care.
These are the books I'm reading currently/about to read.
A Mercy (Toni Morrison). Compelling novel set in 17th century America. There are no good characters or bad characters. Every character is complex, full of potential for good and evil. I'm told by others who read a lot of Morrison that this is her best book in years.
An Altar in the World (Barbara Brown Taylor). If you read this blog, it will not surprise you when I say that BBT is perhaps, the best writer of our time. Period. Of course I realize that's an incredibly subjective statement (not to mention I get to study under her this summer). Since 2001, Taylor has been my voice for faith in the midst of doubt. After just getting into the beginning sections, I can tell I'll be reading this book a few times over . . . this year.
Praying Like Jesus (Mulholland). Recommended by this great blogger, Mulholland's ability to capture the mystery of The Lord's Prayer without making things too complex is appealing to me. Mulholland gives particular attention to the way in which The Lord's Prayer critiques consumer culture.
The Great Emergence (Tickle). Rave reviews have passed my ears on this book. Haven't started it yet. Looks powerful. I assume this will be written in the same vein as McLaren's trilogy: A New Kind of Christian, Story We Find Ourselves In, and The Last Word.
31 January 2009
Talking to a Cop About Healing
Sometimes ministers wish for a do-over. We find ourselves in some of the most awkward conversations at some of the strangest times of the day. I recall as a graduate student in Nashville on my way to preach for a church early one Sunday morning. I was driving my little Saturn Ion from Nashville into the country down I-40 towards Memphis. Now, if you don’t know this stretch of highway, it’s some of the most breathtaking stretch of landscape in all of Tennessee. It is truly holy ground. Normally, I would time it right so that I could find myself in the midst of rolling hills just as the sun was coming up on the first day of the week.
As I made my way down I-40, a large S.U.V. (bad traffic stories usually involve a S.U.V.) swerved off the road, and before I could think one simple thought, I saw a re-tread tire coming, like a boomerang) right for my head. I ducked, swerved off of the highway and ended up 30 feet below in a huge ravine that divided the highway. As I pulled glass out of my face and walked up towards the top of the hill I spotted the projectile that had knocked me off course. It was an almost full tire tread with the metal wires still inside the tire. This thing could have killed me on the spot.
A few moments later, a police officer showed up on the scene. He was a tall, young, heavyset fellow. I’m not saying he ate a lot of donuts, but he sure was eating something. He got me cleaned up pulling more of the glass from my face, ears, scalp, and head. As we sat in the back of his police car (I wasn’t under arrest, I was writing a report so that had something to go on when they finally caught the Semi-truck illegally using re-tread tires on a warming Tennessee summer morning)—he asked nonchalantly, “So where you headed this early in the morning?”
“Headed to church,” I said.
“That’s nice. Real nice.” This was Tennessee after all, not Detroit. Going to church is what socially sophisticated people do. “You know a lady was killed last week in the same kind of accident. You’re lucky.” I didn’t respond.
“What kind of Church?” he asked.
“Oh, a real loving, caring church?” A pause ensued.
“Say, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Are you . . . no . . . any chance . . . are you a preacher?” Here I am still pulling glass out of my face, heart racing, calculating the cost of the damage to the car, wondering who’s going to preach for me, and I could feel an ad hoc counseling session about to take place. I can see these things coming a mile away.
“Well, yes sir, I am. I am a minister. I was on my . . . “He interrupted me before I could finish.
“Man have I had a difficult last five years.” I sank lower in my chair, realizing I wasn’t going anywhere, hoping no one who knew me would drive by in gawking fashion. “My life’s a mess. I’ve really messed things up. I’ve conned friends, cheated family, made my wife so upset, we’re getting divorced next month. Says she’s keeping the kids. My life’s breaking into a million little pieces.”
We chatted for a bit. I assured him that life has a way of giving us second, third, and fourth chances. I gave him my card. We would talk at least one more time that week on the telephone.
Here’s what I wish I would’ve said. If I had a “do-over” (a mulligan for golfers), this is what I’d say.
"Officer, I need a word with you.” I would lock eyes with eyes and I’d say, “I’m going to tell you something that’s truer than you and I sitting in this car this morning. Something more real than the cut marks on my face. If you think that God roots for the perfect, got-it-all-together, pious, BIG ONES of this world, well, you are wrong. You have to get real before God. No more posturing. No more spin-zone. No more hiding. No more deceit. You have to deal with the mirror you try to avoid. Deal with who you really are, not who you want others to think you are. You gotta come to grips with truth, not who you portray yourself to be on the stage of life. Before you can pray 'I am not who I should be, or who, by the grace of God I will one day become . . .but thank God I’m not the person I used to be.' Before you can pray that prayer, you have to get painfully transparent. And when you find yourself in that moment, when you feel you are at your lowest, your littlest . . . that’s when you have the space and grace to meet God for the very first time.”
If I had a do-over that’s what I would say.
As I made my way down I-40, a large S.U.V. (bad traffic stories usually involve a S.U.V.) swerved off the road, and before I could think one simple thought, I saw a re-tread tire coming, like a boomerang) right for my head. I ducked, swerved off of the highway and ended up 30 feet below in a huge ravine that divided the highway. As I pulled glass out of my face and walked up towards the top of the hill I spotted the projectile that had knocked me off course. It was an almost full tire tread with the metal wires still inside the tire. This thing could have killed me on the spot.
A few moments later, a police officer showed up on the scene. He was a tall, young, heavyset fellow. I’m not saying he ate a lot of donuts, but he sure was eating something. He got me cleaned up pulling more of the glass from my face, ears, scalp, and head. As we sat in the back of his police car (I wasn’t under arrest, I was writing a report so that had something to go on when they finally caught the Semi-truck illegally using re-tread tires on a warming Tennessee summer morning)—he asked nonchalantly, “So where you headed this early in the morning?”
“Headed to church,” I said.
“That’s nice. Real nice.” This was Tennessee after all, not Detroit. Going to church is what socially sophisticated people do. “You know a lady was killed last week in the same kind of accident. You’re lucky.” I didn’t respond.
“What kind of Church?” he asked.
“Oh, a real loving, caring church?” A pause ensued.
“Say, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Are you . . . no . . . any chance . . . are you a preacher?” Here I am still pulling glass out of my face, heart racing, calculating the cost of the damage to the car, wondering who’s going to preach for me, and I could feel an ad hoc counseling session about to take place. I can see these things coming a mile away.
“Well, yes sir, I am. I am a minister. I was on my . . . “He interrupted me before I could finish.
“Man have I had a difficult last five years.” I sank lower in my chair, realizing I wasn’t going anywhere, hoping no one who knew me would drive by in gawking fashion. “My life’s a mess. I’ve really messed things up. I’ve conned friends, cheated family, made my wife so upset, we’re getting divorced next month. Says she’s keeping the kids. My life’s breaking into a million little pieces.”
We chatted for a bit. I assured him that life has a way of giving us second, third, and fourth chances. I gave him my card. We would talk at least one more time that week on the telephone.
Here’s what I wish I would’ve said. If I had a “do-over” (a mulligan for golfers), this is what I’d say.
"Officer, I need a word with you.” I would lock eyes with eyes and I’d say, “I’m going to tell you something that’s truer than you and I sitting in this car this morning. Something more real than the cut marks on my face. If you think that God roots for the perfect, got-it-all-together, pious, BIG ONES of this world, well, you are wrong. You have to get real before God. No more posturing. No more spin-zone. No more hiding. No more deceit. You have to deal with the mirror you try to avoid. Deal with who you really are, not who you want others to think you are. You gotta come to grips with truth, not who you portray yourself to be on the stage of life. Before you can pray 'I am not who I should be, or who, by the grace of God I will one day become . . .but thank God I’m not the person I used to be.' Before you can pray that prayer, you have to get painfully transparent. And when you find yourself in that moment, when you feel you are at your lowest, your littlest . . . that’s when you have the space and grace to meet God for the very first time.”
If I had a do-over that’s what I would say.
12 January 2009
Dancing with Both Legs (Part Two with Brueggemann)
In an attempt to elaborate on what I wrote in the previous blog, here's some more food for thought. I know some will get lost in the language, meaning, and logic . . . faith is not for the faint of heart. You have to work at it. I've always been suspicious of "the easy way" and equally suspicious of "easy answers" . . .
People often misunderstand Judaism as “salvation by works”. However, this fundamentally misinterprets the covenant relationship between Israel and YHWH. Because of their relationship, God expected them to behave in certain ways. Lev. 19:18 (“Love your neighbor as yourself”) for instance is one of the most powerful texts in all of Torah even though it is embedded in an entire section of rules, commandments, and decrees. If one reads Leviticus 19:18 as the center/heart of this particular text, the advocacy becomes clear. While some make the conservative contestation that religion remain private (i.e. "Let's keep religion within the cult and private. Our duty is to simply keep the commandments of God.") others make the liberal contestation that "the rules are passé, leftover relics from the faith of our grandparents. The public element (public justice) is what is the heart of true Israelite religion.” Leviticus 19 offers a third way for it is concerned with obedience to the obligations set forth and the relationship of caring for the neighbor. That is, live in these particular ways (obeying relatively minute decrees) and once you find yourself in that cadence of spiritual habit, loving your neighbor will be the natural extension. If you will keep the strict dietary laws, etc. you will be able to have an open posture towards the "other" . . . it will be impossible to have any invisible persons in your midst because you will be so attune to God's presence.
Sabbath is a “discipline” which prepares people to do justice. You cannot truly love the poor and pray for liberation if you are not willing to practice Sabbath. Sabbath is practiced every seven days. The Year of Jubilee happens seven years times seven (Finally Comes the Poet, 49). Social justice, according to Brueggemann, is connected to personal piety devotion. The two cannot be separated. Evidently, the liberal and fundamentalist need one another! “Sabbath is the end of grasping and therefore the end of exploitation. Sabbath is a day of revolutionary equality in society. On that day all rest equally, regardless of wealth or power or need (Exod. 20: 8-11). Of course, the world is not now ordered according to the well-being and equality of Sabbath rest. But the keeping of Sabbath, in heaven and on earth, is a foretaste and anticipation of how the creation will be when God’s way is fully established,” (Brueggemann in Interpretation: Genesis, 35-6).
People often misunderstand Judaism as “salvation by works”. However, this fundamentally misinterprets the covenant relationship between Israel and YHWH. Because of their relationship, God expected them to behave in certain ways. Lev. 19:18 (“Love your neighbor as yourself”) for instance is one of the most powerful texts in all of Torah even though it is embedded in an entire section of rules, commandments, and decrees. If one reads Leviticus 19:18 as the center/heart of this particular text, the advocacy becomes clear. While some make the conservative contestation that religion remain private (i.e. "Let's keep religion within the cult and private. Our duty is to simply keep the commandments of God.") others make the liberal contestation that "the rules are passé, leftover relics from the faith of our grandparents. The public element (public justice) is what is the heart of true Israelite religion.” Leviticus 19 offers a third way for it is concerned with obedience to the obligations set forth and the relationship of caring for the neighbor. That is, live in these particular ways (obeying relatively minute decrees) and once you find yourself in that cadence of spiritual habit, loving your neighbor will be the natural extension. If you will keep the strict dietary laws, etc. you will be able to have an open posture towards the "other" . . . it will be impossible to have any invisible persons in your midst because you will be so attune to God's presence.
Sabbath is a “discipline” which prepares people to do justice. You cannot truly love the poor and pray for liberation if you are not willing to practice Sabbath. Sabbath is practiced every seven days. The Year of Jubilee happens seven years times seven (Finally Comes the Poet, 49). Social justice, according to Brueggemann, is connected to personal piety devotion. The two cannot be separated. Evidently, the liberal and fundamentalist need one another! “Sabbath is the end of grasping and therefore the end of exploitation. Sabbath is a day of revolutionary equality in society. On that day all rest equally, regardless of wealth or power or need (Exod. 20: 8-11). Of course, the world is not now ordered according to the well-being and equality of Sabbath rest. But the keeping of Sabbath, in heaven and on earth, is a foretaste and anticipation of how the creation will be when God’s way is fully established,” (Brueggemann in Interpretation: Genesis, 35-6).
28 June 2008
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.
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.
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