Thanks to my friend Wade for suggesting The Burning Word by Judith Kunst. I’ve been doing extra reading the last year or so in Jewish studies. I find Jewish approaches to faith, community, interpretation and creation to be refreshing and invigorating. If you are looking for a place to start that’s not too intimidating, I suggest you read Girl Meets God by Lauren F. Winner. I have had the privilege of working with Lauren at two ZOE Conferences recently—she’s simply one of the best Christian writers I know of. She was raised Jewish, and in many ways, still considers herself as such. She is also a follower of Yeshua (Jesus), which means she’s had to think carefully about the relationship of Judaism and Christianity.
Back to The Burning Word…here’s a story from the Talmud about Abraham. I used this story recently to describe the word chutzpah—rare bravery in the face of opposition (think valor or courage).
“…Abraham was pious too, though not quite so well behaved. In fact, one legend holds, he was prone to rather violent confrontations with heresy, even when the heretic was his own father,” (Judith Kunst in The Burning Word, 99):
Abraham’s father was an idol maker. He would make stone images and sell them in a shop in the market. One day, Abraham’s father asked him to watch over the idols in his shop while he was away. While he was gone, Abraham seized a stick, smashed all the statues, and placed the stick in the hand of the biggest of them. When his father came back, he asked: “Who did this to the gods?” Abraham answered: “The biggest of them rose up and smashed all the others.” His father replied: “Are you making fun of me? They cannot do anything! They are merely pieces of stone!” Abraham answered: “Let your ears hear what your mouth is saying!” (From Genesis Rabbah).
14 May 2007
08 May 2007
Pepperdine, College Church, Pistons
I just returned from being in California at the Pepperdine Lectures (I'm still trying to get back on this thing called Eastern Standard Time). One of the highlights for the trip, besides being with my wife for a rare occasion on a trip such as this, was spending time with the College Church of Christ in Fresno, CA.
College Church might be one of the most diverse Churches of Christ in the country with members and leaders in its family ranging from white, black, Hispanic, Jamaican, Hawaiian and Asian (Chinese, Japanese, and Hmong). And…they are the only Church of Christ I know that has a female worship leader, Sandra Henderson.
I first met this church while teaching for a ZOE Conference. It has been a blessing to see the many ways in which God is at work in churches all over.
In other news, I owe the Pistons a public apology. I told a good friend and sports confidant recently that I am certain the Pistons are near the end of their glorious NBA Playoff run (Nearly five consecutive Eastern Conference Finals, two NBA Finals appearances, one championship).
Well, it turns out I might be wrong. Thanks to Ben Wallace and the (very) Baby Bulls, the Pistons seemed to have found the edge and focus they boasted in 2004 when they defeated Kobe and Shaq and in 2005 when they nearly upset the Spurs after going down 2-0.
Hats off to Chauncey, Rip, Rasheed, Tay, C-Webb et al—they are handling these playoffs like true pros. I hope they have one more championship run in them. And…I hope Joe Dumars can figure out a way to bring Chauncey back after the summer.
College Church might be one of the most diverse Churches of Christ in the country with members and leaders in its family ranging from white, black, Hispanic, Jamaican, Hawaiian and Asian (Chinese, Japanese, and Hmong). And…they are the only Church of Christ I know that has a female worship leader, Sandra Henderson.
I first met this church while teaching for a ZOE Conference. It has been a blessing to see the many ways in which God is at work in churches all over.
In other news, I owe the Pistons a public apology. I told a good friend and sports confidant recently that I am certain the Pistons are near the end of their glorious NBA Playoff run (Nearly five consecutive Eastern Conference Finals, two NBA Finals appearances, one championship).
Well, it turns out I might be wrong. Thanks to Ben Wallace and the (very) Baby Bulls, the Pistons seemed to have found the edge and focus they boasted in 2004 when they defeated Kobe and Shaq and in 2005 when they nearly upset the Spurs after going down 2-0.
Hats off to Chauncey, Rip, Rasheed, Tay, C-Webb et al—they are handling these playoffs like true pros. I hope they have one more championship run in them. And…I hope Joe Dumars can figure out a way to bring Chauncey back after the summer.
30 April 2007
Dance with the One You Love
"Dancing is like painting with your feet," Kara Graves.
For the past few months, I took a dance class with my wife and several other people who are apart of our church family. Insert joke here.
We learned three different kinds of dances: Rumba, Fox Trot, and Swing. Like anything, becoming a good (or even respectable) dancer takes more than one three month class. For most people, it takes several years of practice, mistakes, and growth. Don't be fooled by Dancing with the Stars.
Nonetheless, dancing has taught me a great deal about married life. Here are some things I've learned about myself and my sweet wife.
1. Leading is important but only if you are dancing with someone else. In dancing, someone has to lead. If one does not lead, one does not move. But the leading is gentle, subtle, almost undetectable. Dance purists insist the man must always lead. However, when the man is a bit slower than the woman in picking up new steps, it helps to have a woman who's not afraid to step out and lead for a little slice of time. A great "lead" dancer appears not to be leading at all. This is important for men who are overbearing, dominating and demeaning to their precious wives. You are not simply dancing with yourself...You are dancing with another person.
2. Leading is important but only if your partner is willing to go with you. If your partner does not trust you they will not follow you totally.
3. Practice, experience and embarrassment are priceless. There is no subsitute for being off the couch and on the dance floor. Putting yourself in a vulnerable position is as important as what happens once you find yourself in that spot.
4. Laughter really is the best medecine. If you are a person who is "all business all the time", one session of learning Rumba will cure you.
5. Everyone can dance. Notice I did not say everyone can dance well. But everyone can dance. I did not say everyone should dance as some are called to dance with different people in different ways (i.e. Jesus and Paul were both single, called to singleness).
6. There aren’t as many people watching as you think. You do not have to be something you are not meant to be. You do not have to compete with other people. God is writing your story one page at a time.
7. There are some still watching however. One's marriage is the greatest indicator of character and integrity. I have not met too many people who can hide once they are married.
8. A new dance partner will only mean new problems/challenges. In a culture (the West) where many claim to fall out of love, I challenge the very notion of falling in love. I choose to love the person I'm married to regardless of the outcome. I'm not suggesting that those who are divorced have taken the easy way out for I know many who've bee rescued out of dark situations. But many fall prey to the idea that the deep longings in their life will be met if only the meet the right person. Only the loving God revealed in Jesus sits on that throne.
9. The best teachers are the ones who remember how hard it really is to dance well. People who dance well make it look easy. And it makes the rest of us sick. But they had blisters on their feet and frustration in their gut at one point.
10. Finishing what you start is a sign of maturity and inner strength. It takes curiosity to start something, maturity to finish it.
11. There are moments of chaos and solidarity, learn to enjoy both. Some dance sessions went well, others were full of mistakes and missteps (mostly on my part).
12. In the midst of other dancers it is important to keep your eyes on your partner. Rowan Williams once wrote, "The hardest place to live is right where you are." That is no truer than in the context of marriage.
I wanted to write something about the connection between dancing and sex but alas, I've been censored by my dance partner. So, I'll end with this little nugget. I prefer to think of our relationship with God as a holy dance. God is leading but we are invited to move (or not move) with the divine. It takes years and years of practice to become a follower of Jesus who dances in the truest rythyms and to the clearest gospel cadence.
For the past few months, I took a dance class with my wife and several other people who are apart of our church family. Insert joke here.
We learned three different kinds of dances: Rumba, Fox Trot, and Swing. Like anything, becoming a good (or even respectable) dancer takes more than one three month class. For most people, it takes several years of practice, mistakes, and growth. Don't be fooled by Dancing with the Stars.
Nonetheless, dancing has taught me a great deal about married life. Here are some things I've learned about myself and my sweet wife.
1. Leading is important but only if you are dancing with someone else. In dancing, someone has to lead. If one does not lead, one does not move. But the leading is gentle, subtle, almost undetectable. Dance purists insist the man must always lead. However, when the man is a bit slower than the woman in picking up new steps, it helps to have a woman who's not afraid to step out and lead for a little slice of time. A great "lead" dancer appears not to be leading at all. This is important for men who are overbearing, dominating and demeaning to their precious wives. You are not simply dancing with yourself...You are dancing with another person.
2. Leading is important but only if your partner is willing to go with you. If your partner does not trust you they will not follow you totally.
3. Practice, experience and embarrassment are priceless. There is no subsitute for being off the couch and on the dance floor. Putting yourself in a vulnerable position is as important as what happens once you find yourself in that spot.
4. Laughter really is the best medecine. If you are a person who is "all business all the time", one session of learning Rumba will cure you.
5. Everyone can dance. Notice I did not say everyone can dance well. But everyone can dance. I did not say everyone should dance as some are called to dance with different people in different ways (i.e. Jesus and Paul were both single, called to singleness).
6. There aren’t as many people watching as you think. You do not have to be something you are not meant to be. You do not have to compete with other people. God is writing your story one page at a time.
7. There are some still watching however. One's marriage is the greatest indicator of character and integrity. I have not met too many people who can hide once they are married.
8. A new dance partner will only mean new problems/challenges. In a culture (the West) where many claim to fall out of love, I challenge the very notion of falling in love. I choose to love the person I'm married to regardless of the outcome. I'm not suggesting that those who are divorced have taken the easy way out for I know many who've bee rescued out of dark situations. But many fall prey to the idea that the deep longings in their life will be met if only the meet the right person. Only the loving God revealed in Jesus sits on that throne.
9. The best teachers are the ones who remember how hard it really is to dance well. People who dance well make it look easy. And it makes the rest of us sick. But they had blisters on their feet and frustration in their gut at one point.
10. Finishing what you start is a sign of maturity and inner strength. It takes curiosity to start something, maturity to finish it.
11. There are moments of chaos and solidarity, learn to enjoy both. Some dance sessions went well, others were full of mistakes and missteps (mostly on my part).
12. In the midst of other dancers it is important to keep your eyes on your partner. Rowan Williams once wrote, "The hardest place to live is right where you are." That is no truer than in the context of marriage.
I wanted to write something about the connection between dancing and sex but alas, I've been censored by my dance partner. So, I'll end with this little nugget. I prefer to think of our relationship with God as a holy dance. God is leading but we are invited to move (or not move) with the divine. It takes years and years of practice to become a follower of Jesus who dances in the truest rythyms and to the clearest gospel cadence.
23 April 2007
St. Paul's
If New York City is the “city that never sleeps” it is also the city that loves to worship. There are some amazing churches in New York City. Known for its diversity, population (nearly 20 million), the epi-center of life in West, God is on the move in this place.
One of the churches that impress many visitors to New York is the Riverside Church, located uptown Manhattan. Founded by the Rockefeller family, the Riverside congregation is one of the most important churches in recent American history. This is the home of one of the twentieth century greatest preachers, Harry Emerson Fosdick. That name might not mean anything to you, but he influenced whole generations of black preachers in this country. Dr. King delivered some of his most important sermons at Riverside during the Civil Rights struggle. It was after one of his trips to Riverside that JFK and Dr. King met for the first time forever changing the course of American Politics: In 1956 the majority of African Americans voted Republican, in 1960 the majority of African Americans voted Democratic. A very similar shift to what many white conservative Christians experienced in the 1980 election with Ronald Reagan. Riverside is not just a building; it is a part of the American story!
On one recent trip to New York, I was walking around Union Seminary (which is located right across the street) and could not gain access into the campus for it was after hours. Not realizing Riverside was directly across the street, I stumbled in the lobby reading inscriptions until I came upon a huge mural dedicated to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. This is like a baseball fan stumbling upon Wrigley Field or Yankee Stadium.
One could also step into St. Patrick’s Cathedral not too far from Times Square and Rockefeller Center. St. Patrick’s boasts more important funerals per capita than any church I know of. From church leaders, to business entrepreneurs to famous athletes and entertainers-St. Patrick’s is an icon in the American religious landscape. I was walking through St. Patrick’s by myself with my winter cap on when a security guard asked me to take it off as a sign of respect. I completely understood but at that same moment a woman walked by with her Cocker Spaniel inside this holy place. I looked at the guy and shrugged, he shrugged back like “there’s nothing I can do.” And of course, I'm thinking..."if the dog had a hat on would you make her take it off?"
You might be most interested to visit The Brooklyn Tabernacle Church located in the heart of downtown Brooklyn. I first learned about this church when their pastor came to Woodmont Hills in Nashville, a church I was serving while finishing school. The pastor, Jim Cymbala, had a vision to build and grow a truly diverse church that represented the diversity of the borough of Brooklyn. Today, after starting with a few families in a rented facility, it is a church of several thousand often considered the most diverse church in the United States. The last two years, I’ve take a group of students to one of their prayer services for a powerful hour and a half of imprecatory prayer. There is no “praying for the hands and minds of the doctors”—they pray in authority and power. It is interesting how those two words function in churches comprised of minorities: authority and power. Some leading church thinkers tell us that the more and more the church is pushed to the margins of our Western “church-fatigued” culture the more crucial it is that churches demonstrate the power and authority of Jesus over and against all other powers and authorities.
But the church I am most interested in these days in NYC is St. Paul's.
St. Paul’s; it is located right across from Ground Zero in the heart of Manhattan. St. Paul’s is Manhattan’s oldest public building in continuous use. It also plays an intriguing role in American history.
George Washington worshiped here on Inauguration Day, April 30, 1789, and attended services at St. Paul's during the two years New York City was the country's capital. Above his pew is an 18th-century oil painting of the Great Seal of the United States, which was adopted in 1782.
Directly across the chapel is the Governor's pew, which George Clinton, the first Governor of the State of New York, used when he visited St. Paul's. The Arms of the State of New York are on the wall above the pew.
Among other notable historical figures who worshiped at St. Paul's were Prince William, later King William IV of England; Lord Cornwallis, who is most famous in this country for surrendering at the Battle of Yorktown in 1781; Lord Howe, who commanded the British forces in New York, and Presidents Grover Cleveland, Benjamin Harrison, and George H. W. Bush.
When the World Trade Center came crashing down that dark day almost six years ago, St. Paul’s was one of the only buildings in the immediate area still functional and functioning. St. Paul’s is not an impressive place per se. It is rather quaint, and old.
After the attack on September 11, 2001, which led to the collapse of the twin towers of the World Trade Center, St. Paul's Chapel served as a place of rest and refuge for recovery workers at the WTC site.
For eight months, hundreds of volunteers worked 12 hour shifts around the clock, serving meals, making beds, counseling and praying with fire fighters, construction workers, police and others. Massage therapists, chiropractors, podiatrists and musicians also tended to their needs.
As the world around them was in shambles they became a place where people gathered in order to be sent back out. They took the pew where George Washington once sat and turned it into an area for volunteer workers to massage the feet of firefighters who were working 16 hour shifts. St. Paul’s understood that the church is a people not a place.
Fire, devastation, destruction, and death were swallowing hundreds of people right outside there building. Instead of retreating, or creating a country club they opened their arms and hearts as wide as Jesus did on the cross saying, “Whosoever will is welcome in this place. But know this. IF you come in here, you will be sent back out to bring in the weary, fatigued, worn-down and broken.”
While everyone was running away from the chaos of Ground Zero, the folks of St. Paul ran toward the chaos.
A chronology of rescue:
September 11, 2001
Terrorists Attack the World Trade Center
On September 11, 2001, terrorists hijacked two American Airlines' and two United Airlines' flights. Two of the flights crashed into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City. Less than two hours after the crashes, the Twin Towers collapsed from the impact. More than 2,500 people lost their lives in New York City. Trinity staff members carried Trinity Preschool children through the ash-gray streets in a black cloud of debris and smoke. Safely away from Ground Zero, the children boarded buses to go uptown.
September 12, 2001
Digging Out and Cleaning Up
Though St. Paul's Chapel remained standing, the building and churchyard were covered in inches of dust from the Twin Towers' collapse. After engineers inspected the building and pronounced it fit for occupancy, the digging out began. Without electricity, Chapel staff used candles and flashlights until city workers set up crude lamps to shed light on the fledgling ministry. Slowly, rescue workers, police officers, firefighters began to come to the Chapel to eat and rest.
September 15, 2001
The Seamen's Church Institute Delivers a Ministry
At first, The Seamen's Church Institute served the rescue workers at St. Paul's. Staff and students from the institute and General Theological Seminary and other volunteers arrived at the Chapel with food, clothing, and other supplies, literally carrying St. Paul's new ministry to the Chapel. They brought Weber grills and began cooking hamburgers on the sidewalk outside the Chapel. Hundreds of hungry and tired rescue workers received coffee, meals, underwear, socks, and gloves.
Oh that we could remember the church is a people not a place.
NOTE: I should have noted that our church partners in ministry with the Bronx Fellowship of Christ and Lindy Emerson--one of the church models (organic house church) that is challenging me these days.
One of the churches that impress many visitors to New York is the Riverside Church, located uptown Manhattan. Founded by the Rockefeller family, the Riverside congregation is one of the most important churches in recent American history. This is the home of one of the twentieth century greatest preachers, Harry Emerson Fosdick. That name might not mean anything to you, but he influenced whole generations of black preachers in this country. Dr. King delivered some of his most important sermons at Riverside during the Civil Rights struggle. It was after one of his trips to Riverside that JFK and Dr. King met for the first time forever changing the course of American Politics: In 1956 the majority of African Americans voted Republican, in 1960 the majority of African Americans voted Democratic. A very similar shift to what many white conservative Christians experienced in the 1980 election with Ronald Reagan. Riverside is not just a building; it is a part of the American story!
On one recent trip to New York, I was walking around Union Seminary (which is located right across the street) and could not gain access into the campus for it was after hours. Not realizing Riverside was directly across the street, I stumbled in the lobby reading inscriptions until I came upon a huge mural dedicated to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. This is like a baseball fan stumbling upon Wrigley Field or Yankee Stadium.
One could also step into St. Patrick’s Cathedral not too far from Times Square and Rockefeller Center. St. Patrick’s boasts more important funerals per capita than any church I know of. From church leaders, to business entrepreneurs to famous athletes and entertainers-St. Patrick’s is an icon in the American religious landscape. I was walking through St. Patrick’s by myself with my winter cap on when a security guard asked me to take it off as a sign of respect. I completely understood but at that same moment a woman walked by with her Cocker Spaniel inside this holy place. I looked at the guy and shrugged, he shrugged back like “there’s nothing I can do.” And of course, I'm thinking..."if the dog had a hat on would you make her take it off?"
You might be most interested to visit The Brooklyn Tabernacle Church located in the heart of downtown Brooklyn. I first learned about this church when their pastor came to Woodmont Hills in Nashville, a church I was serving while finishing school. The pastor, Jim Cymbala, had a vision to build and grow a truly diverse church that represented the diversity of the borough of Brooklyn. Today, after starting with a few families in a rented facility, it is a church of several thousand often considered the most diverse church in the United States. The last two years, I’ve take a group of students to one of their prayer services for a powerful hour and a half of imprecatory prayer. There is no “praying for the hands and minds of the doctors”—they pray in authority and power. It is interesting how those two words function in churches comprised of minorities: authority and power. Some leading church thinkers tell us that the more and more the church is pushed to the margins of our Western “church-fatigued” culture the more crucial it is that churches demonstrate the power and authority of Jesus over and against all other powers and authorities.
But the church I am most interested in these days in NYC is St. Paul's.
St. Paul’s; it is located right across from Ground Zero in the heart of Manhattan. St. Paul’s is Manhattan’s oldest public building in continuous use. It also plays an intriguing role in American history.
George Washington worshiped here on Inauguration Day, April 30, 1789, and attended services at St. Paul's during the two years New York City was the country's capital. Above his pew is an 18th-century oil painting of the Great Seal of the United States, which was adopted in 1782.
Directly across the chapel is the Governor's pew, which George Clinton, the first Governor of the State of New York, used when he visited St. Paul's. The Arms of the State of New York are on the wall above the pew.
Among other notable historical figures who worshiped at St. Paul's were Prince William, later King William IV of England; Lord Cornwallis, who is most famous in this country for surrendering at the Battle of Yorktown in 1781; Lord Howe, who commanded the British forces in New York, and Presidents Grover Cleveland, Benjamin Harrison, and George H. W. Bush.
When the World Trade Center came crashing down that dark day almost six years ago, St. Paul’s was one of the only buildings in the immediate area still functional and functioning. St. Paul’s is not an impressive place per se. It is rather quaint, and old.
After the attack on September 11, 2001, which led to the collapse of the twin towers of the World Trade Center, St. Paul's Chapel served as a place of rest and refuge for recovery workers at the WTC site.
For eight months, hundreds of volunteers worked 12 hour shifts around the clock, serving meals, making beds, counseling and praying with fire fighters, construction workers, police and others. Massage therapists, chiropractors, podiatrists and musicians also tended to their needs.
As the world around them was in shambles they became a place where people gathered in order to be sent back out. They took the pew where George Washington once sat and turned it into an area for volunteer workers to massage the feet of firefighters who were working 16 hour shifts. St. Paul’s understood that the church is a people not a place.
Fire, devastation, destruction, and death were swallowing hundreds of people right outside there building. Instead of retreating, or creating a country club they opened their arms and hearts as wide as Jesus did on the cross saying, “Whosoever will is welcome in this place. But know this. IF you come in here, you will be sent back out to bring in the weary, fatigued, worn-down and broken.”
While everyone was running away from the chaos of Ground Zero, the folks of St. Paul ran toward the chaos.
A chronology of rescue:
September 11, 2001
Terrorists Attack the World Trade Center
On September 11, 2001, terrorists hijacked two American Airlines' and two United Airlines' flights. Two of the flights crashed into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City. Less than two hours after the crashes, the Twin Towers collapsed from the impact. More than 2,500 people lost their lives in New York City. Trinity staff members carried Trinity Preschool children through the ash-gray streets in a black cloud of debris and smoke. Safely away from Ground Zero, the children boarded buses to go uptown.
September 12, 2001
Digging Out and Cleaning Up
Though St. Paul's Chapel remained standing, the building and churchyard were covered in inches of dust from the Twin Towers' collapse. After engineers inspected the building and pronounced it fit for occupancy, the digging out began. Without electricity, Chapel staff used candles and flashlights until city workers set up crude lamps to shed light on the fledgling ministry. Slowly, rescue workers, police officers, firefighters began to come to the Chapel to eat and rest.
September 15, 2001
The Seamen's Church Institute Delivers a Ministry
At first, The Seamen's Church Institute served the rescue workers at St. Paul's. Staff and students from the institute and General Theological Seminary and other volunteers arrived at the Chapel with food, clothing, and other supplies, literally carrying St. Paul's new ministry to the Chapel. They brought Weber grills and began cooking hamburgers on the sidewalk outside the Chapel. Hundreds of hungry and tired rescue workers received coffee, meals, underwear, socks, and gloves.
Oh that we could remember the church is a people not a place.
NOTE: I should have noted that our church partners in ministry with the Bronx Fellowship of Christ and Lindy Emerson--one of the church models (organic house church) that is challenging me these days.
19 April 2007
Other(s) Thoughts on Blacksburg Tragedy
I was going to write a recap of the powerful hour our faith community spent in prayer, lament, worship and reflection for the people who've been ravaged by the violence and murder in Blacksburg. Then I read Patrick's description. Here it is:
Tonight at our mid-week event (called Connections. It is usually a seeker friendly service) Josh Graves and Chris Lindsey planned and carried out a touching hour of prayer and hope. Chris led us in songs of mourning, sadness, loss, and dependence upon Christ. Josh spoke to us about the events of Monday at Virginia Tech, going over them minute by minute as they are known so far. We were then directed to four prayer stations around the Family Room (what you might call a sanctuary). At those stations were tables with the photos and the names of those who were killed — some at each station. We were asked to go to each station and pray, by name, for each one lost, their families, friends, comrades, and communities.
Yes, that included the shooter and his family. Everyone was prayed for, by name, many dozens of times by the assembly. Male and female, young and old poured out their hearts to God.
A long set of tables was placed up front. A large supply of note cards was there and we were asked to pour out our hearts in cards that would be given to the parents of those who lost their children. Moms and dads wiped tears as they wrote. Children drew flowers or crosses and wrote in clumsy letters: "I love you. I am sorry" or as I saw on one, "I am sad, too." On the stage was a large sheet of paper so that people could write short lines of encouragement and prayer. That paper will be placed in the campus center of the local church, the cards distributed to the parents, and our assurances of continued prayer and love will be carried to Blacksburg by people already ready to deliver them.
We closed the evening on our knees, led in prayer by Duane Harrison, one of our shepherds; a combat veteran and one who has lost friends and family members, a man well qualified to lead us.
My prayer around the station tables? It was merely one of many, but I will share one version of it with you. "Father, we are asking for an intervention. We ask you to send your Holy Spirit into the hearts of every grieving person, especially the families of the victims and the shooter. We ask you to intervene as well by shutting the mouths of politicians and all who would work their agenda into this tragedy. Turn off the microphones. Turn the cameras away. Allow the hurting their space, and as the world rushes on to the next story — the next starlet, the next movie deal — send your Spirit and your people in among the people of Blacksburg and Virginia Tech like a tide rushing back up an inlet until you surround them. Thank you for sending professors who stood up for their students, even at the cost of their own lives. Thank you for sending us Professor Librescu; a hero, a great man who had already confronted great evil in his life and who, when it reared it’s ugly visage again, recognized it and stepped toward it, saving his students. We know that we are not saved by works, but we ask you to consider his life and reward him for his faithfulness in the cause of goodness, his courage in the face of evil. Father, we know that evil will never leave this world. We know it cannot be legislated out of existence nor can we take so many precautions as to be immune from its encroachment, its attacks. Help us to be faithful when that day — those days — come. As one who lost His own Son, we know you grieve with those who lost their children. Help us to have Your mind. Help us to remember them."
---
Scot McKnight wrote these words
Virginia Tech: What can we do?
Filed under: Miscellaneous — Scot McKnight @ 2:30 am
We can pick up the pieces of rubble left aground by the cold-blooded murdering of 32 Virginia Tech students, but we cannot make sense of the senseless shards of rubble we find. A professor who perceived that the young man was deeply troubled and fellow students who knew the same; lives of 33 familes now wrecked and young adults who will not return for the summer; security measures that can never be secure enough to block tragedies and police investigations that didn’t take the turn we wish had been taken. What can we do? What do you think?
(read more…)
We can hold the entire school, the families, the police force, the medical doctors and nurses still tending to the wounded and all involved unto our God as an offering in the hope that we can heal the grieving and guide our country.
But we can’t make enough laws to prevent troubled, isolated individuals from penetrating into the fabric of a reasonably-safe garment to unravel parts of it.
We can be more sensitive to the troubled and more vigilant in seeking help for roommates, students, acquaintances, and those we encounter whom we believe are a threat.
But we can’t find our way into the inner world of everyone so that we can with breathless certainty discern those who might explode at any moment.
We can fight for justice, establish better laws, and live out our vocation in peace and justice and love. And we can urge the media to remove the videos of the murderer — those videos can have no redemptive value.
But we can’t create a completely safe world, a perfect environment, or a society in which no one with evil intent can ever enter.
We can live by the Jesus Creed, but we can’t force anyone to live by it.
For these reasons, and more beside, we can pray what Jesus taught us to pray:
Our Father who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory forever. Amen.
Tonight at our mid-week event (called Connections. It is usually a seeker friendly service) Josh Graves and Chris Lindsey planned and carried out a touching hour of prayer and hope. Chris led us in songs of mourning, sadness, loss, and dependence upon Christ. Josh spoke to us about the events of Monday at Virginia Tech, going over them minute by minute as they are known so far. We were then directed to four prayer stations around the Family Room (what you might call a sanctuary). At those stations were tables with the photos and the names of those who were killed — some at each station. We were asked to go to each station and pray, by name, for each one lost, their families, friends, comrades, and communities.
Yes, that included the shooter and his family. Everyone was prayed for, by name, many dozens of times by the assembly. Male and female, young and old poured out their hearts to God.
A long set of tables was placed up front. A large supply of note cards was there and we were asked to pour out our hearts in cards that would be given to the parents of those who lost their children. Moms and dads wiped tears as they wrote. Children drew flowers or crosses and wrote in clumsy letters: "I love you. I am sorry" or as I saw on one, "I am sad, too." On the stage was a large sheet of paper so that people could write short lines of encouragement and prayer. That paper will be placed in the campus center of the local church, the cards distributed to the parents, and our assurances of continued prayer and love will be carried to Blacksburg by people already ready to deliver them.
We closed the evening on our knees, led in prayer by Duane Harrison, one of our shepherds; a combat veteran and one who has lost friends and family members, a man well qualified to lead us.
My prayer around the station tables? It was merely one of many, but I will share one version of it with you. "Father, we are asking for an intervention. We ask you to send your Holy Spirit into the hearts of every grieving person, especially the families of the victims and the shooter. We ask you to intervene as well by shutting the mouths of politicians and all who would work their agenda into this tragedy. Turn off the microphones. Turn the cameras away. Allow the hurting their space, and as the world rushes on to the next story — the next starlet, the next movie deal — send your Spirit and your people in among the people of Blacksburg and Virginia Tech like a tide rushing back up an inlet until you surround them. Thank you for sending professors who stood up for their students, even at the cost of their own lives. Thank you for sending us Professor Librescu; a hero, a great man who had already confronted great evil in his life and who, when it reared it’s ugly visage again, recognized it and stepped toward it, saving his students. We know that we are not saved by works, but we ask you to consider his life and reward him for his faithfulness in the cause of goodness, his courage in the face of evil. Father, we know that evil will never leave this world. We know it cannot be legislated out of existence nor can we take so many precautions as to be immune from its encroachment, its attacks. Help us to be faithful when that day — those days — come. As one who lost His own Son, we know you grieve with those who lost their children. Help us to have Your mind. Help us to remember them."
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Scot McKnight wrote these words
Virginia Tech: What can we do?
Filed under: Miscellaneous — Scot McKnight @ 2:30 am
We can pick up the pieces of rubble left aground by the cold-blooded murdering of 32 Virginia Tech students, but we cannot make sense of the senseless shards of rubble we find. A professor who perceived that the young man was deeply troubled and fellow students who knew the same; lives of 33 familes now wrecked and young adults who will not return for the summer; security measures that can never be secure enough to block tragedies and police investigations that didn’t take the turn we wish had been taken. What can we do? What do you think?
(read more…)
We can hold the entire school, the families, the police force, the medical doctors and nurses still tending to the wounded and all involved unto our God as an offering in the hope that we can heal the grieving and guide our country.
But we can’t make enough laws to prevent troubled, isolated individuals from penetrating into the fabric of a reasonably-safe garment to unravel parts of it.
We can be more sensitive to the troubled and more vigilant in seeking help for roommates, students, acquaintances, and those we encounter whom we believe are a threat.
But we can’t find our way into the inner world of everyone so that we can with breathless certainty discern those who might explode at any moment.
We can fight for justice, establish better laws, and live out our vocation in peace and justice and love. And we can urge the media to remove the videos of the murderer — those videos can have no redemptive value.
But we can’t create a completely safe world, a perfect environment, or a society in which no one with evil intent can ever enter.
We can live by the Jesus Creed, but we can’t force anyone to live by it.
For these reasons, and more beside, we can pray what Jesus taught us to pray:
Our Father who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory forever. Amen.
16 April 2007
Evil
Today's tragedy (still unfolding) at Virginia Tech is a reminder of how destructive and evil humans can be toward one another. In the days and weeks to come, I am confident we will find out a great deal about the person responsible for such darkness.
I wrote these words a few weeks in a Review I wrote for Wineskins Magazine of N.T. Wright's book Evil and the Justice of God.
More humans died in the twentieth century than in all previous centuries combined. Mass genocide in Cambodia, Iraq, Bosnia, Darfur, Northern Uganda, Rwanda, Kosovo, and Srebrenica, along with the devastations of WWI and WWII crushed the optimism that characterized the West at the onset of the 1900s. By 1930, the spirit of progress began to give way to a spirit of disillusionment.
Western Christianity did not fare well either. Many of these atrocities took place in “Christian” nations or nations closely affiliated with the Christian religion (including Nazi Germany which was overwhelmingly Lutheran). According to Alister McGrath, though almost two-thirds of all Christians lived in the West in 1900, only one-third were still recognized as “Western” by 2000. Christianity shifted to the far corners of the world: China, South America, and Africa. Scholars now notes that there are more Anglicans in Africa, for instance, than in all of Great Britain.
Even more chaos consumes the 21st century landscape. The devastation of the Indian Ocean Tsunami, tragic earthquakes in Pakistan and Kashmir, the terror of Hurricane Katrina, and the latest surge of wars in the Middle East push Christians to ask, “is God present and working in the face of such pressing evil?” To paraphrase C.S. Lewis, “If the atheist must answer the reality of joy in the world, the Christian must answer the presence of suffering.”
To read the whole piece, click here. To check out Wright's book, go here.
---
May the families of the victims be covered in prayer by people of all faith on this dark day in American history.
I wrote these words a few weeks in a Review I wrote for Wineskins Magazine of N.T. Wright's book Evil and the Justice of God.
More humans died in the twentieth century than in all previous centuries combined. Mass genocide in Cambodia, Iraq, Bosnia, Darfur, Northern Uganda, Rwanda, Kosovo, and Srebrenica, along with the devastations of WWI and WWII crushed the optimism that characterized the West at the onset of the 1900s. By 1930, the spirit of progress began to give way to a spirit of disillusionment.
Western Christianity did not fare well either. Many of these atrocities took place in “Christian” nations or nations closely affiliated with the Christian religion (including Nazi Germany which was overwhelmingly Lutheran). According to Alister McGrath, though almost two-thirds of all Christians lived in the West in 1900, only one-third were still recognized as “Western” by 2000. Christianity shifted to the far corners of the world: China, South America, and Africa. Scholars now notes that there are more Anglicans in Africa, for instance, than in all of Great Britain.
Even more chaos consumes the 21st century landscape. The devastation of the Indian Ocean Tsunami, tragic earthquakes in Pakistan and Kashmir, the terror of Hurricane Katrina, and the latest surge of wars in the Middle East push Christians to ask, “is God present and working in the face of such pressing evil?” To paraphrase C.S. Lewis, “If the atheist must answer the reality of joy in the world, the Christian must answer the presence of suffering.”
To read the whole piece, click here. To check out Wright's book, go here.
---
May the families of the victims be covered in prayer by people of all faith on this dark day in American history.
10 April 2007
Imus in the Mourning?
If you are not aware of the recent drama surrounding Shock Jock host Don Imus, you really need to stop watching LOST, Idol, and 24 and pay attention to what's happening in the larger world.
Some thoughts...
Two Reasons Don Imus Is Getting What He Deserves:
1. He comes off as a bigot. A bigot towards “all people” (Spreading one’s animosity around equally is not the most savvy of arguments I might add) but a bigot nonetheless.
One national writer notes, “He has acknowledged using the "N-word" in conversation with a producer. He has referred to the "Jewish management" of CBS as "money-grubbing bastards." He has called Palestinians "stinking animals." And he has been quoted as calling former attorney general Janet Reno "the big lesbian" and a prominent black journalist as "the cleaning lady."
2. He targeted specific people. It is one thing to use humor (though what he said is ‘out of bounds’ for public humor in my estimation) towards different sub-groups in American culture; it’s another thing to target specific people: Rutgers female athletes.
One Reason to Fire Imus:
1. His original comment is reprehensible and his apology wasn’t much better.
One Reason NOT to Fire Imus:
1. We are all guilty of racism and stereotyping on some level. Whether it is subtle insinuations or blatant comments about who owns the party stores in Detroit—we are all guilty of turning people into straw men false constructions.
I’m not thrilled that the Rev. Al Sharpton is at the forefront of this discussion but it does not mean that Imus should not be held accountable for his demonstrative public comments. Imus can only apologize so much. It is up to everyone (regardless of color, socio-economic status) to name the mistake, learn from it, and move on.
One reporter shared these words with Imus:
Jeff Greenfield: "...But, it is true I think that your show makes fun of black people in a different way than you make fun of white people. Which is, when your comedic staple does "Ted Kennedy" he doesn't sound like "Hulk Hogan", who doesn't sound like "Dr. Phil" who doesn't sound like whoever else you're doing. But I think it is fair to say, and I just read this by one African American columnist who made this point today, that when you parody black people they all sound the same, sort of a nineteenth century mushmouth minstrel thing. And I think that comes from a more general notion, that like all comedic insult type humor, you look for the most obvious thing to parody. If some of us put on weight you make fun of that, but when that gets into the area of race, and I think that's what happened with this admittedly idiotic and hurtful comment you made yesterday, you look for the most obvious thing, and in this context, in this country when you do that with people's skin color it's at a different level of insult. And one of the things that I think would be really useful in the two weeks that you're off, is not to swear off making fun of black people who do dumb things, I mean you know if Barack Obama or Al Sharpton or Jesse Jackson says things that are hypocritical, I mean the idea that Reverend Sharpton gets to decide what's a racially inflammatory remark kind of shows that God has a sense of humor, but you may want to think about how you do that in a way that isn't the most obvious stereo-typical comment to make about someone's skin color. That's what I think about that."
---
This is a great example of the way in which all of us share in the comments made by Imus. Imus is responsible for completely irresponsible dialog. His listening audience is responsible for being drawn to a personality who is notorious for the ways he belittles people of various, ethnicities, genders, etc. No doubt, Imus will also gain listeners now because of this. In our modern shock jock ethos there is no “bad publicity.” And…I am responsible because I have too often stayed silent on issues such as this, contributing to the degredation of women, minorities, and other targeted persons. We all share in this. We are all in this together.
Some thoughts...
Two Reasons Don Imus Is Getting What He Deserves:
1. He comes off as a bigot. A bigot towards “all people” (Spreading one’s animosity around equally is not the most savvy of arguments I might add) but a bigot nonetheless.
One national writer notes, “He has acknowledged using the "N-word" in conversation with a producer. He has referred to the "Jewish management" of CBS as "money-grubbing bastards." He has called Palestinians "stinking animals." And he has been quoted as calling former attorney general Janet Reno "the big lesbian" and a prominent black journalist as "the cleaning lady."
2. He targeted specific people. It is one thing to use humor (though what he said is ‘out of bounds’ for public humor in my estimation) towards different sub-groups in American culture; it’s another thing to target specific people: Rutgers female athletes.
One Reason to Fire Imus:
1. His original comment is reprehensible and his apology wasn’t much better.
One Reason NOT to Fire Imus:
1. We are all guilty of racism and stereotyping on some level. Whether it is subtle insinuations or blatant comments about who owns the party stores in Detroit—we are all guilty of turning people into straw men false constructions.
I’m not thrilled that the Rev. Al Sharpton is at the forefront of this discussion but it does not mean that Imus should not be held accountable for his demonstrative public comments. Imus can only apologize so much. It is up to everyone (regardless of color, socio-economic status) to name the mistake, learn from it, and move on.
One reporter shared these words with Imus:
Jeff Greenfield: "...But, it is true I think that your show makes fun of black people in a different way than you make fun of white people. Which is, when your comedic staple does "Ted Kennedy" he doesn't sound like "Hulk Hogan", who doesn't sound like "Dr. Phil" who doesn't sound like whoever else you're doing. But I think it is fair to say, and I just read this by one African American columnist who made this point today, that when you parody black people they all sound the same, sort of a nineteenth century mushmouth minstrel thing. And I think that comes from a more general notion, that like all comedic insult type humor, you look for the most obvious thing to parody. If some of us put on weight you make fun of that, but when that gets into the area of race, and I think that's what happened with this admittedly idiotic and hurtful comment you made yesterday, you look for the most obvious thing, and in this context, in this country when you do that with people's skin color it's at a different level of insult. And one of the things that I think would be really useful in the two weeks that you're off, is not to swear off making fun of black people who do dumb things, I mean you know if Barack Obama or Al Sharpton or Jesse Jackson says things that are hypocritical, I mean the idea that Reverend Sharpton gets to decide what's a racially inflammatory remark kind of shows that God has a sense of humor, but you may want to think about how you do that in a way that isn't the most obvious stereo-typical comment to make about someone's skin color. That's what I think about that."
---
This is a great example of the way in which all of us share in the comments made by Imus. Imus is responsible for completely irresponsible dialog. His listening audience is responsible for being drawn to a personality who is notorious for the ways he belittles people of various, ethnicities, genders, etc. No doubt, Imus will also gain listeners now because of this. In our modern shock jock ethos there is no “bad publicity.” And…I am responsible because I have too often stayed silent on issues such as this, contributing to the degredation of women, minorities, and other targeted persons. We all share in this. We are all in this together.
07 April 2007
Good Friday Reflection
One of my favorite blogs to read is Scot McKnight's Jesus Creed. Here's why.
Why This Night? A Good Friday Reflection
Filed under: Atonement — Scot McKnight @ 2:20 am
We need to reconsider why it was that Jesus chose Passover (a night of celebrating and remembering liberation) rather than Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement (a day of affliction and a day when sins were atoned for). Why does he choose this night to take his stand for what his death meant? Why die at Passover instead of Yom Kippur?
Details about these feasts can be found by reading Leviticus 16 and 23. It could be that Passover was a pilgrim festival, and hence attended by more, and Yom Kippur was not. From the “triumphal entry” forward, Jesus was aware of mounting opposition to what he was doing. That he stayed the course is significant. He could have escaped from Jerusalem and returned to Galilee in the quiet of the night. Aware of the opening chasm of death before him, Jesus chose to stay and he chose to die.
Again, we ask: Why choose Passover for his death?
We answer that by answering this question: What did death at Passover do? Passover involved the death of a lamb; it involved the smearing of a lamb’s blood with the hyssop branch on the door; the blood protected from God’s judgment and liberated Israel following that protection. If this is what Passover was about, then — if we think about this historically — Jesus was “storifying” his own death: Jesus was claiming that his followers, by ingesting his body and blood, were (as it were) “smearing” blood on themselves to protect themselves from the judgment of God against the oppressive, violent, and power-mongering leaders of Israel and Rome who right now were oppressing God’s good people. We need to recall that Jesus had just announced (read Mark 13) that judgment would shortly come to Jerusalem.
If we are willing to think about what this might have meant to the first followers of Jesus, it could conclude this: the Last Supper was an act of rebellion against Rome and Israel’s unjust leaders and the claim that those who “ingest” Jesus will be protected from judgment and liberated — like escaping beyond the Red Sea — to live in the kingdom of God. By choosing Passover instead of Yom Kippur to explain his death, Jesus chooses the images of divine protection and liberation. He offers himself—in death—to absorb the judgment of God on behalf of his followers so he can save his people from their sins.
No one would argue that this is all there is to the death of Jesus — there are many other images one could explore, but one must begin right here: Jesus’ act at the Last Supper declares that his death is atoning, that his blood is like the Passover blood, that his death will save his followers from their sins, and that his death will create the new covenant community around him.
Why This Night? A Good Friday Reflection
Filed under: Atonement — Scot McKnight @ 2:20 am
We need to reconsider why it was that Jesus chose Passover (a night of celebrating and remembering liberation) rather than Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement (a day of affliction and a day when sins were atoned for). Why does he choose this night to take his stand for what his death meant? Why die at Passover instead of Yom Kippur?
Details about these feasts can be found by reading Leviticus 16 and 23. It could be that Passover was a pilgrim festival, and hence attended by more, and Yom Kippur was not. From the “triumphal entry” forward, Jesus was aware of mounting opposition to what he was doing. That he stayed the course is significant. He could have escaped from Jerusalem and returned to Galilee in the quiet of the night. Aware of the opening chasm of death before him, Jesus chose to stay and he chose to die.
Again, we ask: Why choose Passover for his death?
We answer that by answering this question: What did death at Passover do? Passover involved the death of a lamb; it involved the smearing of a lamb’s blood with the hyssop branch on the door; the blood protected from God’s judgment and liberated Israel following that protection. If this is what Passover was about, then — if we think about this historically — Jesus was “storifying” his own death: Jesus was claiming that his followers, by ingesting his body and blood, were (as it were) “smearing” blood on themselves to protect themselves from the judgment of God against the oppressive, violent, and power-mongering leaders of Israel and Rome who right now were oppressing God’s good people. We need to recall that Jesus had just announced (read Mark 13) that judgment would shortly come to Jerusalem.
If we are willing to think about what this might have meant to the first followers of Jesus, it could conclude this: the Last Supper was an act of rebellion against Rome and Israel’s unjust leaders and the claim that those who “ingest” Jesus will be protected from judgment and liberated — like escaping beyond the Red Sea — to live in the kingdom of God. By choosing Passover instead of Yom Kippur to explain his death, Jesus chooses the images of divine protection and liberation. He offers himself—in death—to absorb the judgment of God on behalf of his followers so he can save his people from their sins.
No one would argue that this is all there is to the death of Jesus — there are many other images one could explore, but one must begin right here: Jesus’ act at the Last Supper declares that his death is atoning, that his blood is like the Passover blood, that his death will save his followers from their sins, and that his death will create the new covenant community around him.
05 April 2007
Cass Park in California?
Some of you are familiar with the “love-feasts” that our church has been throwing for the homeless and poor in Cass Park, Downtown Detroit. You’ve heard the stories about Professor Jack, Francis, and other tidbits.
I shared the Professor Jack story while I was in Fresno, CA earlier this year. There I met Wade Thomasy from Bakersfield.
To get right to the point: Wade caught the vision. This coming week the “love-feast” idea will be hitting the streets of Bakersfield, CA. If you would like to send a note of encouragement to Wade see the note below he recently wrote me.
May 12th, 2007 starting around noon PST, a gathering will take place,
We have called it "Lovefeast 93304" to congregate with homeless, hungry and needy people to share the Love of God, celebration worship and a chicken barbeque with all the trimmings.
I thought you would be happy to hear about this since God gave the idea to me through you at the worship conference in Fresno, CA, February 2007.
I am Wade Thomasy Central COC Bakersfield, CA 93304, 661-477-7895, cthomasy@bak.rr.com.
Thank you for allowing God to bless me with this gift to serve, please pray for God to continue to bless it and guide it.
---
Cass Park Love Feast breaking out in California? Must be a Holy Spirit thing.
I shared the Professor Jack story while I was in Fresno, CA earlier this year. There I met Wade Thomasy from Bakersfield.
To get right to the point: Wade caught the vision. This coming week the “love-feast” idea will be hitting the streets of Bakersfield, CA. If you would like to send a note of encouragement to Wade see the note below he recently wrote me.
May 12th, 2007 starting around noon PST, a gathering will take place,
We have called it "Lovefeast 93304" to congregate with homeless, hungry and needy people to share the Love of God, celebration worship and a chicken barbeque with all the trimmings.
I thought you would be happy to hear about this since God gave the idea to me through you at the worship conference in Fresno, CA, February 2007.
I am Wade Thomasy Central COC Bakersfield, CA 93304, 661-477-7895, cthomasy@bak.rr.com.
Thank you for allowing God to bless me with this gift to serve, please pray for God to continue to bless it and guide it.
---
Cass Park Love Feast breaking out in California? Must be a Holy Spirit thing.
03 April 2007
Judah, Tamar, and Yahweh
If you do not know the Judah-Tamar story (or should I say the Tamar-Judah story) don't read this without first dipping your feet in the wild river that is Genesis chapter 38. This story has perplexed scholars for decades, even with the contribution of great narrative critics and experts like Robert Alter.
I am drawn to critical details of the stories found within Scripture. Call it midrash, extrapolation, or sheer ruminating--I love to go the edges of the story and ask how God might be found "in the background, reaching from limb to limb" (to paraphrase Flannery O'Connor).
My friend Wade calls this "going to the gaps." Or, he got that phrase from someone else...I cannot recall.
Here's how I recently retold this story to my community of faith.
Judah sets up the marriage between Er and Tamar. Er dies because he’s got some moral issues. It seems Jewish persons are more comfortable with God being involved in death than we typically are. Tamar now needs a husband, according to Jewish tradition and customs known to this part of the world regardless of religious persuasion. That little part of Torah is known as the “levirate law”(Deut. 25; Ruth 3-4)—a woman should marry the next oldest brother in order to preserve the dead brother’s lineage and to give the widow a place and voice within culture.
Onan becomes the lucky guy to take on his brother’s wife. Apparently he goes along with the arrangement right up until the part about having to consummate the new covenant. This act of non-consummation (for lack of a better word) has come to be known as “Onanism”—just thought you’d like to know that little factoid.
God does to Onan what he did with Er—“you’re fired”—God strikes him dead. Two dead brothers, a woman twice widowed, and a whole lot of confusion. Judah, the patriarch and leader looks around and does the math: the one common denominator in all this mess and death is Tamar.
So, Judah does what any mean person would do if he wants to punish a young woman: He forces her to go back and live with her parents, bringing her more attention for acts she was never responsible for in the first place. The writer of Genesis tells us that Judah has another son he could give Tamar (were he a strict follower of Torah) but he decides that is not in his best interest considering the two funerals he’s just paid for involving his two eldest sons.
Tamar is sent to live with her parents. For Judah, she's a problem more than she is a person (I mean...two dead sons, c'mon you do the math).
After a long time…in Scripture you know the story is about to get real interesting when it says “after a long time”…Judah goes through his own hard time: his wife Shua dies. He takes a buddy with him to Vegas once he’s done with the mourning process. Ok, it wasn’t Vegas, you must read your Bibles carefully--the town is called Timnah.
Somehow Tamar finds out about her father-in-laws travel plans. And she decides that if she is to get what she needs to survive and have any social value, she’s going to have to take matter into her own hands. Tamar decides to play “the whore” (the Hebrew indicates) by wearing a veil. The veil indicates Tamar knows exactly what she’s doing: she’s seducing the man who’s denied her all these months and possibly years.
Judah must not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, because he does not recognize her upon approach—that’s either a testimony to how drunk Judah is (like Jacob with Rachel: after all that hard work, how do you not know you’ve been given the wrong sister? How drunk do you have to be unable to distinguish between the hot sister and the one with weak eyes?)…or to how little he is paying attention.
Either way, the text makes things pretty clear: Tamar is approaching this as a business proposition and he’s approaching this as a “boys will be boys” moment. Both know what they want, and both, in fact get it. Because Judah cannot pay Tamar for the services rendered, he leaves his drivers license and credit cards with her. The seal he leaves with her is his identity encased in a cylinder he would have wore around his neck. Like Essau, he’s willing to trade a great deal for a moment of satisfying his fleshly cravings.
Some time passes, three months to be exact. Judah finds out that Tamar is pregnant and becomes incensed. “Torah requires me as a man of unscrupulous principles to do the right thing,” (the irony is so thick). Tamar must be burned (according to Torah, she could be hanged, burned, stoned, strangulation, beheading. “Criminals who were to be burned or stangled had to stand in dung up to their knees,” (Towner, 252).
But before the story can get too out of hand, Tamar sends a prophetic word back to Judah. Like Nathan approaching David, Tamar exposes Judah for the Torah violator he really is not the do-gooder he claims to be. Judah has made a mess of his role/part in the story, Tamar is not afraid to bring this to the surface (not that she can claim the moral high ground either).
Only the Bible would continue with the story. Tamar gives birth to twins, a familiar twist in the Genesis narrative—one of these twins will be in the linage of King David!
There’s a word from God in all this confusion, entrapment and mess. In fact, it is usually in the mess of life that God has the space to impart his holy ways. It’s ironic isn’t it? We tend to think that God works best with perfect people, who hair is cut just right, who knows all the right language—the people who look the part. But it seems that God isn’t interested so much in people who look the part. It seems like he’s interested in people who make a mess of the part. People who, like Judah, are more interested in appearing virtuous than doing the virtuous things required of us (protecting the innocent and vulnerable, practicing justice for a widow who’s lost two husbands, abstaining from giving in to lust and physical longing which turns a woman into “the sum of her parts” a far cry from the way Genesis describing women being equally created in God’s image).
Yes, Genesis gives us permission to state that God is interested in people who make a mess of the part more than people who pretend to “look the part.”
Don’t believe me? Turn to Matthew’s genealogy when you have a momentt. Matthew, as I mentioned in a sermon during advent season, is interested in involving the messy people of Jesus’ lineage: particularly the messy non-Jewish women who are involved in a sexual sworee.
Tamar's, Bathsheeba's, Ruth's, and Rahab's--all in the lineage of Israel and Jesus. Apparently while many church cultures run from the mess, God runs towards it.
I think I'm beginning to really love this thing called faith.
I am drawn to critical details of the stories found within Scripture. Call it midrash, extrapolation, or sheer ruminating--I love to go the edges of the story and ask how God might be found "in the background, reaching from limb to limb" (to paraphrase Flannery O'Connor).
My friend Wade calls this "going to the gaps." Or, he got that phrase from someone else...I cannot recall.
Here's how I recently retold this story to my community of faith.
Judah sets up the marriage between Er and Tamar. Er dies because he’s got some moral issues. It seems Jewish persons are more comfortable with God being involved in death than we typically are. Tamar now needs a husband, according to Jewish tradition and customs known to this part of the world regardless of religious persuasion. That little part of Torah is known as the “levirate law”(Deut. 25; Ruth 3-4)—a woman should marry the next oldest brother in order to preserve the dead brother’s lineage and to give the widow a place and voice within culture.
Onan becomes the lucky guy to take on his brother’s wife. Apparently he goes along with the arrangement right up until the part about having to consummate the new covenant. This act of non-consummation (for lack of a better word) has come to be known as “Onanism”—just thought you’d like to know that little factoid.
God does to Onan what he did with Er—“you’re fired”—God strikes him dead. Two dead brothers, a woman twice widowed, and a whole lot of confusion. Judah, the patriarch and leader looks around and does the math: the one common denominator in all this mess and death is Tamar.
So, Judah does what any mean person would do if he wants to punish a young woman: He forces her to go back and live with her parents, bringing her more attention for acts she was never responsible for in the first place. The writer of Genesis tells us that Judah has another son he could give Tamar (were he a strict follower of Torah) but he decides that is not in his best interest considering the two funerals he’s just paid for involving his two eldest sons.
Tamar is sent to live with her parents. For Judah, she's a problem more than she is a person (I mean...two dead sons, c'mon you do the math).
After a long time…in Scripture you know the story is about to get real interesting when it says “after a long time”…Judah goes through his own hard time: his wife Shua dies. He takes a buddy with him to Vegas once he’s done with the mourning process. Ok, it wasn’t Vegas, you must read your Bibles carefully--the town is called Timnah.
Somehow Tamar finds out about her father-in-laws travel plans. And she decides that if she is to get what she needs to survive and have any social value, she’s going to have to take matter into her own hands. Tamar decides to play “the whore” (the Hebrew indicates) by wearing a veil. The veil indicates Tamar knows exactly what she’s doing: she’s seducing the man who’s denied her all these months and possibly years.
Judah must not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, because he does not recognize her upon approach—that’s either a testimony to how drunk Judah is (like Jacob with Rachel: after all that hard work, how do you not know you’ve been given the wrong sister? How drunk do you have to be unable to distinguish between the hot sister and the one with weak eyes?)…or to how little he is paying attention.
Either way, the text makes things pretty clear: Tamar is approaching this as a business proposition and he’s approaching this as a “boys will be boys” moment. Both know what they want, and both, in fact get it. Because Judah cannot pay Tamar for the services rendered, he leaves his drivers license and credit cards with her. The seal he leaves with her is his identity encased in a cylinder he would have wore around his neck. Like Essau, he’s willing to trade a great deal for a moment of satisfying his fleshly cravings.
Some time passes, three months to be exact. Judah finds out that Tamar is pregnant and becomes incensed. “Torah requires me as a man of unscrupulous principles to do the right thing,” (the irony is so thick). Tamar must be burned (according to Torah, she could be hanged, burned, stoned, strangulation, beheading. “Criminals who were to be burned or stangled had to stand in dung up to their knees,” (Towner, 252).
But before the story can get too out of hand, Tamar sends a prophetic word back to Judah. Like Nathan approaching David, Tamar exposes Judah for the Torah violator he really is not the do-gooder he claims to be. Judah has made a mess of his role/part in the story, Tamar is not afraid to bring this to the surface (not that she can claim the moral high ground either).
Only the Bible would continue with the story. Tamar gives birth to twins, a familiar twist in the Genesis narrative—one of these twins will be in the linage of King David!
There’s a word from God in all this confusion, entrapment and mess. In fact, it is usually in the mess of life that God has the space to impart his holy ways. It’s ironic isn’t it? We tend to think that God works best with perfect people, who hair is cut just right, who knows all the right language—the people who look the part. But it seems that God isn’t interested so much in people who look the part. It seems like he’s interested in people who make a mess of the part. People who, like Judah, are more interested in appearing virtuous than doing the virtuous things required of us (protecting the innocent and vulnerable, practicing justice for a widow who’s lost two husbands, abstaining from giving in to lust and physical longing which turns a woman into “the sum of her parts” a far cry from the way Genesis describing women being equally created in God’s image).
Yes, Genesis gives us permission to state that God is interested in people who make a mess of the part more than people who pretend to “look the part.”
Don’t believe me? Turn to Matthew’s genealogy when you have a momentt. Matthew, as I mentioned in a sermon during advent season, is interested in involving the messy people of Jesus’ lineage: particularly the messy non-Jewish women who are involved in a sexual sworee.
Tamar's, Bathsheeba's, Ruth's, and Rahab's--all in the lineage of Israel and Jesus. Apparently while many church cultures run from the mess, God runs towards it.
I think I'm beginning to really love this thing called faith.
30 March 2007
Evil
For those that might be interested in my writing, Wineskins Magazine, or N.T. Wright's work--you may enjoy the review I've written of Evil and the Justice of God.
21 March 2007
One Scandalous Party
Tony Campolo had a significant influence on me when I was in graduate school and thinking about the implications of his teachings for my own future, vocation, etc. I have other friends who have read more and been more influenced by Campolo-- I was a latecomer to the Campolo party. One friend recently told me about he and his best friend in college could be found walking around campus quoting Campolo word for word. Campolo has influenced thousands of young women and men to take significant risks for the kingdom of God.
One of the stories that has stayed with me over the last few years is the story he tells about Agnes, a prostitute in Honolulu he met while speaking at a conference for pastors and ministers. How he met a prostitute is interesting in and of itself.
Campolo could not sleep one night while in Hawaii due to the time change. He went looking for a place to eat in the middle of the night and stumbled upon a donut shop in a shotty area of town. While Campolo was having coffee and donuts, a group of women walked into the dining establishment. Campolo knew these were not your regular dinner partners--these folks were full-fledged women "of the night."
He writes in The Kingdom of God is a Party:
I overheard the woman sitting beside me say, "Tomorrow's my birthday. I'm going to be thirty-nine."
Her friend responded in a nasty tone, "So what do you want from me? A birthday party? What do you want? Ya want me to get you a cake and sing 'Happy Birthday?'"
"Come on!" said the woman sitting next to me. "Why do you have to be so mean? I was just telling you, that's all. Why do you have to put me down? I was just telling you it was my birthday. I don't want anything from you. I mean, why should you give me a birthday party? I've never had a birthday party in my whole life. Why should I have one now?"
When I heard that, I made a decision. I sat and waited until the women had left. Then I called over the fat guy behind the counter and I asked him, "Do they come in here every night?”
"Yeah!" he answered.
"The one right next to me, does she come here every night?"
"Yeah," he said. "That's Agnes. Yeah, she comes in here every night. Why d'ya wanta know?"
"Because I heard her say that tomorrow is her birthday," I told him. "What do you say you and I do something about that? What do you think about us throwing a birthday party for her right here tomorrow night?"
A cute smile slowly crossed his chubby cheeks and he answered with measured delight, "That's great!..."
"Look." I told him, "if it's OK with you, I'll get back here tomorrow morning about 2:30 and decorate the place. I'll even get a birthday cake!"
"No way," said Harry (that was his name). "The birthday cake's my thing. I'll make the cake.”
At 2:30 the next morning, I was back at the diner. I had picked up some crepe-paper decorations at the store and had made a sign out of big pieces of cardboard that read, "Happy Birthday, Agnes!" I decorated the diner from one end to the other. I had that diner looking good.
The woman who did the cooking must have gotten the word out on the street, because by 3:15 every prostitute in Honolulu was in the place. It was wall-to-wall prostitutes...and me!
At 3:30 on the dot, the door of the diner swung open and in came Agnes and her friend. I had everybody ready (after all I was kind of the M.C. of the affair) and when they came in we all screamed, "Happy birthday!" Never have I seen a person so flabbergasted...so stunned...so shaken. Her mouth fell open. Her legs seemed to buckle a bit. Her friend grabbed her arm to steady her. As she was led to sit on one of the stools along the counter we all sang "Happy Birthday" to her. As we came to the end of our singing with "happy birthday dear Agnes, happy birthday to you," her eyes moistened, when the birthday cake with all the candles on it was carried out, she lost it and just openly cried.
Harry gruffly mumbled, "Blow out the candles, Agnes! Come on! Blow out the candles! If you don't blow out the candles, I'm gonna hafta blow out the candles." And, after an endless few seconds, he did. Then he handed her a knife and told her, "Cut the cake, Agnes. Yo, Agnes, we all want some cake.”
Agnes looked down at the cake. Then without taking her eyes off it, she slowly and softly said, "Look Harry, is it all right with you if I... I mean is it OK if I kind of... want I want to ask you is...is it OK if keep the cake a little while? I mean is it all right if we don't eat it right away?"
Harry shrugged and answered, "Sure! It's O.K If you want to keep the cake, keep the cake. Take it home if you want to."
"Can I," she asked. Then looking at me she said, "I live just down the street a couple of doors. I want to take the cake home, OK? I'll be right back. Honest!"
She got off the stool picked up the cake, and, carrying it like it was the Holy Grail walked slowly toward the door.
As we all just stood there motionless, she left. When the door closed there was a stunned silence in the place. Not knowing what else to do, I broke the silence by saying, "What do you say we pray?”
Looking back on it now it seems more than strange for a sociologist to be leading a prayer meeting with a bunch of prostitutes in a diner in Honolulu at 3:30 in the morning. But then it just felt like the right thing to do.
I prayed for Agnes. I prayed for her salvation. I prayed that her life would be changed and that God would be good to her. When I finished, Harry leaned over the counter and with a trace of hostility in his voice, he said "Hay! You never told me you were a preacher. What kind of church do you belong to?"
In one of those moments when just the right words came, I answered, "I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for whores at 3:30 in the morning."
Harry waited a moment and then almost sneered as he answered, "No you don't. There's no church like that. If there was, I'd join it. I'd join a church like that!”
One of the stories that has stayed with me over the last few years is the story he tells about Agnes, a prostitute in Honolulu he met while speaking at a conference for pastors and ministers. How he met a prostitute is interesting in and of itself.
Campolo could not sleep one night while in Hawaii due to the time change. He went looking for a place to eat in the middle of the night and stumbled upon a donut shop in a shotty area of town. While Campolo was having coffee and donuts, a group of women walked into the dining establishment. Campolo knew these were not your regular dinner partners--these folks were full-fledged women "of the night."
He writes in The Kingdom of God is a Party:
I overheard the woman sitting beside me say, "Tomorrow's my birthday. I'm going to be thirty-nine."
Her friend responded in a nasty tone, "So what do you want from me? A birthday party? What do you want? Ya want me to get you a cake and sing 'Happy Birthday?'"
"Come on!" said the woman sitting next to me. "Why do you have to be so mean? I was just telling you, that's all. Why do you have to put me down? I was just telling you it was my birthday. I don't want anything from you. I mean, why should you give me a birthday party? I've never had a birthday party in my whole life. Why should I have one now?"
When I heard that, I made a decision. I sat and waited until the women had left. Then I called over the fat guy behind the counter and I asked him, "Do they come in here every night?”
"Yeah!" he answered.
"The one right next to me, does she come here every night?"
"Yeah," he said. "That's Agnes. Yeah, she comes in here every night. Why d'ya wanta know?"
"Because I heard her say that tomorrow is her birthday," I told him. "What do you say you and I do something about that? What do you think about us throwing a birthday party for her right here tomorrow night?"
A cute smile slowly crossed his chubby cheeks and he answered with measured delight, "That's great!..."
"Look." I told him, "if it's OK with you, I'll get back here tomorrow morning about 2:30 and decorate the place. I'll even get a birthday cake!"
"No way," said Harry (that was his name). "The birthday cake's my thing. I'll make the cake.”
At 2:30 the next morning, I was back at the diner. I had picked up some crepe-paper decorations at the store and had made a sign out of big pieces of cardboard that read, "Happy Birthday, Agnes!" I decorated the diner from one end to the other. I had that diner looking good.
The woman who did the cooking must have gotten the word out on the street, because by 3:15 every prostitute in Honolulu was in the place. It was wall-to-wall prostitutes...and me!
At 3:30 on the dot, the door of the diner swung open and in came Agnes and her friend. I had everybody ready (after all I was kind of the M.C. of the affair) and when they came in we all screamed, "Happy birthday!" Never have I seen a person so flabbergasted...so stunned...so shaken. Her mouth fell open. Her legs seemed to buckle a bit. Her friend grabbed her arm to steady her. As she was led to sit on one of the stools along the counter we all sang "Happy Birthday" to her. As we came to the end of our singing with "happy birthday dear Agnes, happy birthday to you," her eyes moistened, when the birthday cake with all the candles on it was carried out, she lost it and just openly cried.
Harry gruffly mumbled, "Blow out the candles, Agnes! Come on! Blow out the candles! If you don't blow out the candles, I'm gonna hafta blow out the candles." And, after an endless few seconds, he did. Then he handed her a knife and told her, "Cut the cake, Agnes. Yo, Agnes, we all want some cake.”
Agnes looked down at the cake. Then without taking her eyes off it, she slowly and softly said, "Look Harry, is it all right with you if I... I mean is it OK if I kind of... want I want to ask you is...is it OK if keep the cake a little while? I mean is it all right if we don't eat it right away?"
Harry shrugged and answered, "Sure! It's O.K If you want to keep the cake, keep the cake. Take it home if you want to."
"Can I," she asked. Then looking at me she said, "I live just down the street a couple of doors. I want to take the cake home, OK? I'll be right back. Honest!"
She got off the stool picked up the cake, and, carrying it like it was the Holy Grail walked slowly toward the door.
As we all just stood there motionless, she left. When the door closed there was a stunned silence in the place. Not knowing what else to do, I broke the silence by saying, "What do you say we pray?”
Looking back on it now it seems more than strange for a sociologist to be leading a prayer meeting with a bunch of prostitutes in a diner in Honolulu at 3:30 in the morning. But then it just felt like the right thing to do.
I prayed for Agnes. I prayed for her salvation. I prayed that her life would be changed and that God would be good to her. When I finished, Harry leaned over the counter and with a trace of hostility in his voice, he said "Hay! You never told me you were a preacher. What kind of church do you belong to?"
In one of those moments when just the right words came, I answered, "I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for whores at 3:30 in the morning."
Harry waited a moment and then almost sneered as he answered, "No you don't. There's no church like that. If there was, I'd join it. I'd join a church like that!”
16 March 2007
A Fresh Word
A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of speaking and teaching at the ZOE Conference in Lubbock in Texas hosted by the Monterey Church of Christ... It was, for several reasons, a rewarding experience. Each ZOE Conference is challenging and engaging for I enjoy working with church leaders from all over the country asking the question, “How might we better navigate the river of the Gospel between the banks of Scripture and Culture?”
On Friday, I co-taught a leadership class with one of my chief mentors/rabbis, John York. We talked with women and men in critical leadership positions about understanding the emerging context of practicing the Christian faith in North America.
On Saturday, I taught three classes on the subject of “experiencing God”—with a social justice twist, of course. We talked about seeing the image of Christ in the least of these and the “throwaway’s” of the larger world. I told some stories about the work Kara and I have done with college students from Rochester College and family members from the Rochester Church in Cass Park. Cass Park… one of the worst neighborhoods in one of this country’s most dangerous cities. I told them part of the story of Professor Jack, which I’ve shared with others in many different contexts.
One man, who came in for the third class of “experiencing God” in the margins, shared his testimony of being rescued from addiction, powers, and desires now leading the Monterey Church of Christ in working with incarcerated persons and persons who are without family, shelter, and basic needs. The spirit of God radiated from his very words.
But God was trying to speak to me in more subtle ways that Saturday in Lubbock.
One woman sat through most the three classes without saying a word. She was also volunteering as a servant for the weekend, helping with the hospitality room for the speakers. After I was done teaching this sixth class (third class of day two), she found me sitting at a table, exhausted from the two days of work.
“Josh. I just want you to know something. You’ve really blessed me.”
“Thank you for the kind words, I put a lot of time into this, I appreciate your words.”
She jumped in “…several years ago, I had a son named Josh. He fell off of cliff in a tragic accident. My only son Josh would’ve been about your age. I’ve been through a dark, dark time in my life…God has been faithful, but it was a dark place. And I can’t help but think that my Josh would’ve been serving the Lord much as you are doing with the poor and vulnerable of Cass Park.”
This friend-in-Christ went on to share more of her journey, how she’d completely quit church, experienced a tough divorce, come to faith (again) because of the grace and love the Monterey Church. Her words were fresh words of faith needed for this preacher on this particular day.
This, my friends, is why we cannot be Christians unless we are a part of Christ’ church. All of our stories bleed into one, a tapestry of redemption and transformation.
On Friday, I co-taught a leadership class with one of my chief mentors/rabbis, John York. We talked with women and men in critical leadership positions about understanding the emerging context of practicing the Christian faith in North America.
On Saturday, I taught three classes on the subject of “experiencing God”—with a social justice twist, of course. We talked about seeing the image of Christ in the least of these and the “throwaway’s” of the larger world. I told some stories about the work Kara and I have done with college students from Rochester College and family members from the Rochester Church in Cass Park. Cass Park… one of the worst neighborhoods in one of this country’s most dangerous cities. I told them part of the story of Professor Jack, which I’ve shared with others in many different contexts.
One man, who came in for the third class of “experiencing God” in the margins, shared his testimony of being rescued from addiction, powers, and desires now leading the Monterey Church of Christ in working with incarcerated persons and persons who are without family, shelter, and basic needs. The spirit of God radiated from his very words.
But God was trying to speak to me in more subtle ways that Saturday in Lubbock.
One woman sat through most the three classes without saying a word. She was also volunteering as a servant for the weekend, helping with the hospitality room for the speakers. After I was done teaching this sixth class (third class of day two), she found me sitting at a table, exhausted from the two days of work.
“Josh. I just want you to know something. You’ve really blessed me.”
“Thank you for the kind words, I put a lot of time into this, I appreciate your words.”
She jumped in “…several years ago, I had a son named Josh. He fell off of cliff in a tragic accident. My only son Josh would’ve been about your age. I’ve been through a dark, dark time in my life…God has been faithful, but it was a dark place. And I can’t help but think that my Josh would’ve been serving the Lord much as you are doing with the poor and vulnerable of Cass Park.”
This friend-in-Christ went on to share more of her journey, how she’d completely quit church, experienced a tough divorce, come to faith (again) because of the grace and love the Monterey Church. Her words were fresh words of faith needed for this preacher on this particular day.
This, my friends, is why we cannot be Christians unless we are a part of Christ’ church. All of our stories bleed into one, a tapestry of redemption and transformation.
15 March 2007
I'm Due
Since 1995, I've picked the Kansas Jayhawks to win the NCAA Tourney--so far I'm 0-11. But this is the year, I can feel it. Ok, it could just be the crazy weather in Michigan. It was 70 on Tuesday, it snowed last night.
Florida vs. Kansas
Kansas
GTown vs. Memphis
GTown
Kansas over GTown in a classic matchup.
I saw GTown at Madison Square Garden last week in the Big East Tourney–they look like an NBA team. I think they could take Charlotte, Memphis, and the Clippers right now!
But I’m fiercely loyal to KU after having grown up in Wichita. I’ve picked them every since ‘95–I’m due!
PS Kevin Durant could be this year’s Carmello Anthony, which would be bad news for KU fans.
Florida vs. Kansas
Kansas
GTown vs. Memphis
GTown
Kansas over GTown in a classic matchup.
I saw GTown at Madison Square Garden last week in the Big East Tourney–they look like an NBA team. I think they could take Charlotte, Memphis, and the Clippers right now!
But I’m fiercely loyal to KU after having grown up in Wichita. I’ve picked them every since ‘95–I’m due!
PS Kevin Durant could be this year’s Carmello Anthony, which would be bad news for KU fans.
13 March 2007
Twins
28 years ago today, Jason Dale Graves entered the world. Born into a family of love, grace, and Christian discipleship he’s emerged to be a young successful “who’s who” in the Michigan banking world. In high school, he became an all-state tennis player after only having a few years of real experience. He was third on the varsity golf team after one full season of practice. To say Jason picks up on things is like saying Howard Stern is drawn to controversy, both are huge understatements.
Jason, at 28, is a VP of Commercial Loans for Key Bank in Ann Arbor, MI. But more than that, he is a true ambassador of God’s grace in the world. I do not know many young men as successful as Jason who give the amounts of money to kingdom efforts like Jason and his wife Alayna. He is thinking carefully and intentionally about ways he can be a light in the dark world that is often “American banking.” He is out in the streets rubbing elbows with all kinds of folks “preaching the gospel, using words when necessary.”
T-ball, youth basketball, Friday night fights in the basement, traveling, triumphs (Both of us becoming all-state our senior year, he in tennis, me in basketball), and defeats (low points I cannot mention on a public blog)—Jason Dale Graves has been my best friend and closest confidant.
One little known fact: Jason and I are twins. 28 years ago Phil and Kathy Graves found out that they were having two sons, not one. The problem: they found out after Jason had already been delivered! Phil went to get McDonald’s for his young wife, and he came back to the revelation that his family just went from 3 (my sister was three at the time) to 5!
For the next several years, Jason and Josh Graves would be inseparable. Like Jacob and Esau, they’ve not always modeled the God-filled life with perfection, but God has been faithful to both of them, using their paltry gifts for the benefit of his activity on this earth.
May God continue to use these "jars of clay." Happy Birthday Jason.
Jason, at 28, is a VP of Commercial Loans for Key Bank in Ann Arbor, MI. But more than that, he is a true ambassador of God’s grace in the world. I do not know many young men as successful as Jason who give the amounts of money to kingdom efforts like Jason and his wife Alayna. He is thinking carefully and intentionally about ways he can be a light in the dark world that is often “American banking.” He is out in the streets rubbing elbows with all kinds of folks “preaching the gospel, using words when necessary.”
T-ball, youth basketball, Friday night fights in the basement, traveling, triumphs (Both of us becoming all-state our senior year, he in tennis, me in basketball), and defeats (low points I cannot mention on a public blog)—Jason Dale Graves has been my best friend and closest confidant.
One little known fact: Jason and I are twins. 28 years ago Phil and Kathy Graves found out that they were having two sons, not one. The problem: they found out after Jason had already been delivered! Phil went to get McDonald’s for his young wife, and he came back to the revelation that his family just went from 3 (my sister was three at the time) to 5!
For the next several years, Jason and Josh Graves would be inseparable. Like Jacob and Esau, they’ve not always modeled the God-filled life with perfection, but God has been faithful to both of them, using their paltry gifts for the benefit of his activity on this earth.
May God continue to use these "jars of clay." Happy Birthday Jason.
12 March 2007
Lubbock, New York, Rochester
I just spent a week in NYC (the Bronx specifically) with eleven college students and three faculty/staff from Rochester College. We spent time in prayer, meditation, reflection, serving the poor at the Bowery Mission and local hospital, visiting some of the most historic churches in the United States such as Brooklyn Tabernacle, Riverside (Baptist) Church, St. Paul’s, and St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
We also spent the majority of the time with the leaders of the Bronx Fellowship of Christ, an emergent church movement led by a stellar team of ministers. They are bridging the gap of economics, race, and gender in "Jesus ways."
However, the most important part of being in The City (or any city for that matter) are the faces. Black, White, Hispanic, Puerto Rican, Laocian, Eastern European and African. Young, old, and middle age. Optimistic, worn-down, beaten, hopeful, and unsure.
These faces are the faces God’s heart beats for. These faces are the faces that reveal Jesus in our midst. THese faces are the faces that remind us of the sanctity of life.
------
Here’s a great article in the Detroit Free Press per people trying to live as “lights” in the city of Detroit.
We also spent the majority of the time with the leaders of the Bronx Fellowship of Christ, an emergent church movement led by a stellar team of ministers. They are bridging the gap of economics, race, and gender in "Jesus ways."
However, the most important part of being in The City (or any city for that matter) are the faces. Black, White, Hispanic, Puerto Rican, Laocian, Eastern European and African. Young, old, and middle age. Optimistic, worn-down, beaten, hopeful, and unsure.
These faces are the faces God’s heart beats for. These faces are the faces that reveal Jesus in our midst. THese faces are the faces that remind us of the sanctity of life.
------
Here’s a great article in the Detroit Free Press per people trying to live as “lights” in the city of Detroit.
28 February 2007
The Tomb Belonging to Jesus?
James Cameron claims to have found the ossuary boxes belonging to Jesus and Mary Magdalene. An ossuary is simply a "bone" or "collection box" common to the Ancient Near Eastern world. Some will remember the big hoopla that was raised by believing archaeologists a few years ago when the "James Ossuary" emerged on the scene. The ossuary read "James, the son of Joseph, the brother of Jesus"--to which many people joked, "at least it did not read 'Jesus, the son of Joseph, the brother of James.'"
Well, Cameron now claims claims that he's found this little piece of archaeological intrigue.
Here is a piece of the article:
The filmmakers said that statistically there was a one in 600 chance that the names found on the inscriptions were not the family of Jesus.
They also argued that the name 'Mariamene e Mara, the only inscription written in Greek, translated to Magdalene's real name.
If this was the tomb of Jesus, the revelations are likely to raise the ire of Christians because the discoverywould challenge the belief that Jesus was resurrected and ascended to heaven.
The documentary comes on the heels of the huge success of the novel The Da Vinci Code, which contends that Mary Magdalene had a child with Jesus.
But Dr. Shimon Gibson, one of the archaeologists who discovered the tomb, told Reuters at the news conference he had a "healthy scepticism" the tomb may have belonged to the family of Jesus.
In Jerusalem, the Israeli archaeologist who also carried out excavations at the tomb on behalf of the Israel Antiquities Authority, disputed the documentary's conclusions.
The archaeologist, Amos Kloner, said the 2,000-year-old cave contained coffins belonging to a Jewish family whose names were similar to those of Jesus and his relatives.
"I can say positively that I don't accept the identification (as) ... belonging to the family of Jesus in Jerusalem," Kloner told Reuters. "I don't accept that the family of Miriam and Yosef (Mary and Joseph), the parents of Jesus, had a family tomb in Jerusalem."
"They were a very poor family. They resided in Nazareth, they came to Bethlehem in order to have the birth done there - so I don't accept it, not historically, not archeologically," said Kloner, a professor in the Department of Land of Israel Studies and Archaeology at Bar-Ilan University near Tel Aviv.
After they were discovered, the bones were reburied according to Orthodox tradition, leaving just the boxes with inscriptions and human residue to be examined though DNA testing.
Professor L. Michael White, of the University of Texas, said he also doubted the claims were true.
"This is trying to sell documentaries," he said, adding a series of strict tests needed to be conducted before a bone box or inscription could be confirmed as ancient. "This is not archeologically sound, this is fanfare."
Jay Leno, not typically thought of as a theologian made an interesting point this week concering the insinuation that Jesus and Mary Magdalene had a child together and the new evidence supports this: "If we can't even identify who the father of Anna Nicole Smith is, what makes us so arrogant that we think we can identify a two thousand year old relic and how Jesus might be the father?" (my paraphrase).
Ultimately, belief in Jesus and the resurrection starts with belief. One cannot prove or disprove the ressurection. We cannot go back and watch the instant replay or videotape history. One must start with faith in order to see a raised Christ. Or, as C.S. Lewis once wrote, "I believe in Christianity as I do the sun. Not only because it is risen, but by it, I see everything else."
Something or someone happened to those earliest followers of Jesus. Something or someone that would cause them to risk and lose their lives. They did not benefit financially or socially from preaching the risen carpenter--their lives got more and more difficult. Yet, the early churched really believed that Jesus, through God's power, had overcome death, sin, darnkness and violence.
The greatest argument for an empty tomb, is a spirit filled carried away church (paraphrase of Clarence Jordan's comments in The Sermon on the Mount).
22 February 2007
Walk on: U2’s Mission
Bono et al are enigmatic figures for many. In his new book Walk On: The Spiritual Journey of U2, Steve Stockman takes the reader through the making, formation and journey of (arguably) the greatest rock band on the planet: U2.
There are many highlights in this book. Here are a few:
• Stockman gets behind the meaning and historical/personal situations that produced many of the lyrics in U2’s music. The chapter in which he deals with “Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” (and how many have misunderstood the meaning of the song) is the worth the price of the book alone.
• The author deals with the controversy surrounding U2’s love/hate relationship with evangelical faith and American “Wal-Mart” Christianity.
• Bono’s spirituality (love for Christian community, social justice) fills up many of the pages and anecdotal narratives making this an accessible book for readers of all levels of interest. Bono once said in an interview, “…Faith in Jesus Christ that is not aligned to social justice—that is not aligned with the poor—it’s nothing.”
• Bono’s own apparent ethical contradictions get some attention in the research and reflection in the pages of Walk On.
I’m not finished with the book, but the highlight so far has been the background regarding Bono’s influence in the war/tension/hate between the Protestants and Catholics in Ireland. If music is the primary language of humanity, the most palatable way we experience genuine change, I’m grateful we have women and men ala Bono et al articulating a prophetic voice in an apathetic world. He may not fit the classic definition of fundamentalist Christian, but he certainly has his pulse on the importance of embodied ethics as we all enter into this post-Christian era in the West. As I’ve said often, quoting someone much smarter than me, “In a pluralistic world, a religion will be judged on how it treats its non-adherents.” I don’t know a finer example in the crazy world that is music/film/entertainment than U2.
So…do you have a favorite U2 song? My favorite is “Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”…listed below.
I have climbed highest mountain
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you
I have run
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls
Only to be with you
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
I have kissed honey lips
Felt the healing in her fingertips
It burned like fire
This burning desire
I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
I believe in the kingdom come
Then all the colors will bleed into one
Bleed into one
Well yes I'm still running
You broke the bonds and you
Loosed the chains
Carried the cross
Of my shame
Of my shame
You know I believed it
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
There are many highlights in this book. Here are a few:
• Stockman gets behind the meaning and historical/personal situations that produced many of the lyrics in U2’s music. The chapter in which he deals with “Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” (and how many have misunderstood the meaning of the song) is the worth the price of the book alone.
• The author deals with the controversy surrounding U2’s love/hate relationship with evangelical faith and American “Wal-Mart” Christianity.
• Bono’s spirituality (love for Christian community, social justice) fills up many of the pages and anecdotal narratives making this an accessible book for readers of all levels of interest. Bono once said in an interview, “…Faith in Jesus Christ that is not aligned to social justice—that is not aligned with the poor—it’s nothing.”
• Bono’s own apparent ethical contradictions get some attention in the research and reflection in the pages of Walk On.
I’m not finished with the book, but the highlight so far has been the background regarding Bono’s influence in the war/tension/hate between the Protestants and Catholics in Ireland. If music is the primary language of humanity, the most palatable way we experience genuine change, I’m grateful we have women and men ala Bono et al articulating a prophetic voice in an apathetic world. He may not fit the classic definition of fundamentalist Christian, but he certainly has his pulse on the importance of embodied ethics as we all enter into this post-Christian era in the West. As I’ve said often, quoting someone much smarter than me, “In a pluralistic world, a religion will be judged on how it treats its non-adherents.” I don’t know a finer example in the crazy world that is music/film/entertainment than U2.
So…do you have a favorite U2 song? My favorite is “Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”…listed below.
I have climbed highest mountain
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you
I have run
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls
Only to be with you
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
I have kissed honey lips
Felt the healing in her fingertips
It burned like fire
This burning desire
I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
I believe in the kingdom come
Then all the colors will bleed into one
Bleed into one
Well yes I'm still running
You broke the bonds and you
Loosed the chains
Carried the cross
Of my shame
Of my shame
You know I believed it
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
12 February 2007
Martin Matters
I am intrigued by white people’s response to the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Full disclosure: I believe he is the single most important leader in American history…yes, even among such influential people as Abraham Lincoln, Rosa Parks, FDR, Clara Barton, Einstein, et al.
The responses to Dr. King’s influence range from cultural icon to charismatic preacher; social revolutionary to pawn of his time.
In this month in which many are recognizing the contributions of African-Americans, I think it is appropriate to honor and discuss Dr. King.
To be succinct, here are the reasons Martin matters.
1. He called to America to be who she said she was; a place where “all men were created equal with unalienable rights”. What does “all men mean”? The US has spent several decades trying to decipher that dynamite-packed phrase.
2. He showed the Church and America that change can happen through creative non-violence. Though I am not convinced that one has to be committed to non-violence in order to be a Christian, I believe wholeheartedly, that we ignore the teachings of those who practice and espouse non-violence to our own peril. See the work of Lee Camp, John Howard Yoder, Walter Wink and Chuck Campbell for the best ruminations on non-violence in the modern word.
3. He reminded the Church that the Way of Christ must always be, in some respect, counter-cultural. If some major aspects of the Christian faith do not critique the cultural norms (whether it is Jamaica, Sudan, Russian, or Malaysia)—is it really the Gospel of Christ?
4. He possessed the courage to speak truth to the powers that be regardless of the outcome or consequence. As happened with Jesus and Paul, the religious people were ready to marginalize and kill Martin for his commitment to justice.
5. He reminded Christians of Jesus and Paul’s radical commitment to living out the “love for God, love for neighbor” message of Judaism and Christianity.
There is a great deal of commercial sentimentality regarding the life and teachings of Dr. King within and outside the black community. People tend to use Dr. King for whatever purpose they are aiming to achieve. I’m interested in none of the former. His time and life was messy full of irony and contradiction, just as our lives are today.
The best treatment of Dr. King and the era in which he worked is found in the writing of Pulitzer Prize winner Taylor Branch: Parting the Waters; Pillar of Fire; At Canaan’s Edge. I encourage you to sample this ground-breaking work.
My favorite King line these days: “A religion that cares about the souls of men but not men’s bodies might be a religion, but it is not the Christian religion.”
I love the American story. There are parts of it that I believe we have not dealt with (e.g. the mistreatment of Native Americans, Slavery, and Women) but I also believe it is one of the great experiments in the history of civilization. It is a story with so much hope and grace.
By honoring one who called America to be “who she claimed she already was”, we honor those secessionist, radicals who once signed those treasonous documents known as the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States.
Update: My friend Sara Barton pointed this out to me regarding Dr. King and his being recognized as a martyr for the Christian faith.
03 February 2007
Drunk on Jesus
I spent a good part of my adolescent years in Wichita, KS. Actually, I lived in a suburb (if Wichita can have a suburban section) of Wichita: Hayesville. I was/am the proverbial preacher’s kid. My father, whom some of you know, worked for Children’s Hospital before receiving the call to forsake career and comfort for the work of full-time ministry. My earliest memories of being alive are found in two places: my family (of which I’m a twin, one sister, and two incredible parents) and my church.
There are many things that shaped my early on. Some sociologists tell us that we shape our primary convictions or core convictions by the time we are twelve years old. We spend the rest of our lives building upon or deconstructing those core convictions—for good and for bad. “Children are the world’s best recorders, but the worst interpreters.”
My dad drove a school bus when we were younger. Not because he wanted to necessarily but because he was a great dad: the church we served barely paid him enough money to pay the mortgage and buy groceries, let alone support a family of five. Every Friday, dad picked up Jason and I on the big yellow bus (we were the coolest kids on Maywood St.—who else got to go for joy rides after hours?).
My dad never complained. I recall one time being confused by my mother’s emotional outburst upon opening the mailbox. It seems that several of the church members knew our financial straits (and the squirrelly payment tactics of the church treasurer) and decided to leave our family a sizable sum of money. Both my mother and my father were constantly hopeful, full of energy and dedication to the church and to our family. Lights in a dark world; wisdom in the midst of foolishness; speaking psalms, hymns and spiritual songs.
My (twin) brother and I had two best friends growing up: Brian and Chris Lemons. Both were standout soccer players at an early age. Both would go on to become all-state performers. Brian was the one everyone looked up to: highly intelligent, athletic, spiritual, and full of life. He was the one we all wanted to be.
The Graves family moved back to Michigan after an awful church split and Brian’s family remained in Wichita. We stayed in touch sporadically over our teen years. Brian was selected, during his senior year of high school, to play on the United States National Soccer Team as its starting goalkeeper. Brian had opportunities to play at several universities upon graduation. He chose to play for a small college in Nebraska that some of you are familiar with—York College. At York, Brian was a BMOC—Big Man on Campus. He was passionate about his faith in Christ, and determined to break down the artificial walls constructed between various ethnic groups. He detested legalism in the church. He despised racism. He was the epitome of a young follower of Jesus trying to make a difference, under the guidance of God’s spirit, in the lives of those who surrounded him.
Brian died in a fatal car crash ten years ago this past month. I was at a friends house (still in high school) when the phone rang. It was my mother, weeping profusely, “Josh, Brian’s dead.” My body went numb and soul froze. I don’t remember much after that. Brian Allen Lemons. Born in 1977, dead at the age of 20. So much promise, and potential snuffed away by the cruel jaws of death. He would never marry, accomplish all goals, or even bring children into this world. If you don’t question God over these sorts of incongruities in life, you might want to rethink the God you worship.
Thousands showed at Brian’s funeral in Wichita up wearing t-shirts that bore the slogan, “the power of one”—a testimony to Brian’s influence: light in a dark world; wisdom in the midst of foolishness; speaking psalms, hymns and spiritual songs.
All of these memories came flooding back to me because of the death of Adam Langford and Moses Kimezi : two beloved leaders in the work this church is so closely tied to in Jinja, Uganda.
I was with one of John and Sara Barton’s close friends and former in Uganda this past weekend as I taught at a conference in California. This friend recalled similar stories of Adam Langford. The parallels of Brian and Adam were astounding. Here’s one of the ironies of this story for my family: Adam Langford’s teammate at Oklahoma Christian on the soccer team was Chris Lemons the brother of Brian Lemons. Apparently Chris and Adam were extremely close during college. Chris lost his brother ten years ago, now loses a dear friend almost ten years to the day.
A few stories emerged out of the last few weeks that show you what kind of zest and vigor Adam embodied. Having never met him personally, many of us are reliant upon these stories to shape his character and demeanor.
Apparently Adam lived most of his life under the shadow of his older brother Ben Langford who’s on the current Jinja team. According to many, Ben was an amazing high school athlete. In the ninth grade, Adam told the soccer coach he’d like to play for him.
“What’s your name son?”
“Adam Langford.”
“Langford…Langford…say, are you Ben’s brother?”
“No, Ben is my brother.”
During Adam’s junior year, he was a part of school history winning a state championship in Oklahoma. The final game came down to a shoot out. The score in this overtime session was tied: 4-4. The younger brother was faced with the ultimate opportunity: miss the kick and the match goes into a second overtime. Score and he’s just marched his team to a state championship! What’s happens next is the stuff legends are made of.
Adam felt the tension—it could’ve been cut with a knife. He walks over to the student section, which is dead silent, staring at them. In a burst of emotion from somewhere deep inside, Adam lifts his hands in the air as a conductor preparing a symphony. Adam, in the tradition of Babe Ruth and his famous “point” in the World Series of , declared victory before he’d even scored the goal!
As this story is being relayed to me, I’m thinking, “Either way this guy’s going down in history. He’ll either be the hero who called his own shot or the goat who choked after a cocky display of male testosterone.”
Adam’s story (or Moses, or Brian, or my dad for that matter) is not merely a story about interesting people—they’re stories of people who’ve been filled by God’s spirit to overflow capacity. “Adam Langford and Moses Kimezi died January 16 as they worked to take good news to the poor and proclaim the joy of Christ. Both Moses and Adam were like that: the spirit of Christ oozed from their pores and their quick laughing smiles…Adam Langford was the kind of person that people were drawn to, whether children watching him balance a soccer ball on his foot, coffee growers he was helping the day he died, Source Cafe employees he worked alongside. Adam was in Uganda to proclaim good news to the poor, and he died in a tragic way but the love and joyful way he lived his life will make an indelible impression on Ugandans for decades to come.”
Lights in a dark world; wisdom in the midst of foolishness; speaking psalms, hymns and spiritual songs.
Coming Alive
A writer whose name I’ve long forgotten wrote this concerning Christian vocation, “Don’t ask what the world needs. Instead, ask what makes you come alive, because what the world needs is people who’ve come alive.”
All of this has been heavy on my heart and stabbing at my soul. And then, I open up Paul’s letter to the Ephesians and read these words:
For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light— 9 for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true. 10 Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord. 11 Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. 12 For it is shameful even to mention what such people do secretly; 13 but everything exposed by the light becomes visible, 14 for everything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, "Sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." 15 Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, 16 making the most of the time, because the days are evil. 17 So do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. 18 Do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery; but be filled with the Spirit, 19 as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts, 20 giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.
The NIV really messes up the interpretation of this text in verses 19ff. Instead of reading, “19Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, 20always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” the NRSV rightly translated this text “19 as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts, 20 giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
The NIV makes this sound like a command from Paul. Oh contrare mon frere. This is not a command, this is a description of what the spirit-filled life looks like. It’s not "do this, do this, do this." It’s “don’t be drunk on wine, be drunk on Jesus. And when you are drunk on Jesus you will find yourself living like this: singing praises and worship to God add the oddest times, in the strangest of circumstances.
In the Church of Christ tradition, this passage has been used to defend acapella music. We ignore the worship context of I. Co 11-14 when Paul talks about women who are leading, prophesying, etc. in the church. And in this passage, we create a context (we say that this is talking about corporate worship) that isn’t even there! How does that work exactly!
Examined or Enacted?
I love to study, read, reflect and study some more. I loved learning the Greek language in seminary. I enjoyed studying the Arian controversy in the early church and the debates among the Patristic Fathers (the what and the who?). I become fixated in the details of the narrative when I study the Civil Rights Movement, or the Bay of Pigs Invasion. I love to learn and drink deeply from good books.
But here’s what I’m slowly learning, the older I get. The Bible isn’t so much interested in being examined as it is interested in being enacted. The students I teach and serve at Rochester College are teaching me this. Most of them don’t know the first thing about the New Testament when they come to my class. They are brilliant by the end of the semester, but that’s because they have a great teacher!
These students can’t explain the synoptic problem, the messianic secret of Mark, or the authorship debates regarding the Gospel of John. They don’t know the Council of Nicea from the latest hot video on MTV. But many of them get it. They understand that Scripture wants to be lived out more than it wants to be litigated by reason and analysis. They understand that God desires for his children to perform the text, not live in years and years of pondering.
Some of our churches "got too many people who know too much Bible but don’t intend to do a thing with the knowledge they possess."
Paul reminds us this morning that we are to be, all metaphors aside, drunk on Jesus.
We choose to be intoxicated with the love and power of Jesus. We do not desire to be inebriated on individualism; sloshed on selfishness; or wasted on worldly ways—rather we choose to be consumed by the power and presence of God in our lives. We choose to follow in the tradition of St. Paul, Brian Lemons, Adam Langford and others—drunk on Jesus for life.
There are many things that shaped my early on. Some sociologists tell us that we shape our primary convictions or core convictions by the time we are twelve years old. We spend the rest of our lives building upon or deconstructing those core convictions—for good and for bad. “Children are the world’s best recorders, but the worst interpreters.”
My dad drove a school bus when we were younger. Not because he wanted to necessarily but because he was a great dad: the church we served barely paid him enough money to pay the mortgage and buy groceries, let alone support a family of five. Every Friday, dad picked up Jason and I on the big yellow bus (we were the coolest kids on Maywood St.—who else got to go for joy rides after hours?).
My dad never complained. I recall one time being confused by my mother’s emotional outburst upon opening the mailbox. It seems that several of the church members knew our financial straits (and the squirrelly payment tactics of the church treasurer) and decided to leave our family a sizable sum of money. Both my mother and my father were constantly hopeful, full of energy and dedication to the church and to our family. Lights in a dark world; wisdom in the midst of foolishness; speaking psalms, hymns and spiritual songs.
My (twin) brother and I had two best friends growing up: Brian and Chris Lemons. Both were standout soccer players at an early age. Both would go on to become all-state performers. Brian was the one everyone looked up to: highly intelligent, athletic, spiritual, and full of life. He was the one we all wanted to be.
The Graves family moved back to Michigan after an awful church split and Brian’s family remained in Wichita. We stayed in touch sporadically over our teen years. Brian was selected, during his senior year of high school, to play on the United States National Soccer Team as its starting goalkeeper. Brian had opportunities to play at several universities upon graduation. He chose to play for a small college in Nebraska that some of you are familiar with—York College. At York, Brian was a BMOC—Big Man on Campus. He was passionate about his faith in Christ, and determined to break down the artificial walls constructed between various ethnic groups. He detested legalism in the church. He despised racism. He was the epitome of a young follower of Jesus trying to make a difference, under the guidance of God’s spirit, in the lives of those who surrounded him.
Brian died in a fatal car crash ten years ago this past month. I was at a friends house (still in high school) when the phone rang. It was my mother, weeping profusely, “Josh, Brian’s dead.” My body went numb and soul froze. I don’t remember much after that. Brian Allen Lemons. Born in 1977, dead at the age of 20. So much promise, and potential snuffed away by the cruel jaws of death. He would never marry, accomplish all goals, or even bring children into this world. If you don’t question God over these sorts of incongruities in life, you might want to rethink the God you worship.
Thousands showed at Brian’s funeral in Wichita up wearing t-shirts that bore the slogan, “the power of one”—a testimony to Brian’s influence: light in a dark world; wisdom in the midst of foolishness; speaking psalms, hymns and spiritual songs.
All of these memories came flooding back to me because of the death of Adam Langford and Moses Kimezi : two beloved leaders in the work this church is so closely tied to in Jinja, Uganda.
I was with one of John and Sara Barton’s close friends and former in Uganda this past weekend as I taught at a conference in California. This friend recalled similar stories of Adam Langford. The parallels of Brian and Adam were astounding. Here’s one of the ironies of this story for my family: Adam Langford’s teammate at Oklahoma Christian on the soccer team was Chris Lemons the brother of Brian Lemons. Apparently Chris and Adam were extremely close during college. Chris lost his brother ten years ago, now loses a dear friend almost ten years to the day.
A few stories emerged out of the last few weeks that show you what kind of zest and vigor Adam embodied. Having never met him personally, many of us are reliant upon these stories to shape his character and demeanor.
Apparently Adam lived most of his life under the shadow of his older brother Ben Langford who’s on the current Jinja team. According to many, Ben was an amazing high school athlete. In the ninth grade, Adam told the soccer coach he’d like to play for him.
“What’s your name son?”
“Adam Langford.”
“Langford…Langford…say, are you Ben’s brother?”
“No, Ben is my brother.”
During Adam’s junior year, he was a part of school history winning a state championship in Oklahoma. The final game came down to a shoot out. The score in this overtime session was tied: 4-4. The younger brother was faced with the ultimate opportunity: miss the kick and the match goes into a second overtime. Score and he’s just marched his team to a state championship! What’s happens next is the stuff legends are made of.
Adam felt the tension—it could’ve been cut with a knife. He walks over to the student section, which is dead silent, staring at them. In a burst of emotion from somewhere deep inside, Adam lifts his hands in the air as a conductor preparing a symphony. Adam, in the tradition of Babe Ruth and his famous “point” in the World Series of , declared victory before he’d even scored the goal!
As this story is being relayed to me, I’m thinking, “Either way this guy’s going down in history. He’ll either be the hero who called his own shot or the goat who choked after a cocky display of male testosterone.”
Adam’s story (or Moses, or Brian, or my dad for that matter) is not merely a story about interesting people—they’re stories of people who’ve been filled by God’s spirit to overflow capacity. “Adam Langford and Moses Kimezi died January 16 as they worked to take good news to the poor and proclaim the joy of Christ. Both Moses and Adam were like that: the spirit of Christ oozed from their pores and their quick laughing smiles…Adam Langford was the kind of person that people were drawn to, whether children watching him balance a soccer ball on his foot, coffee growers he was helping the day he died, Source Cafe employees he worked alongside. Adam was in Uganda to proclaim good news to the poor, and he died in a tragic way but the love and joyful way he lived his life will make an indelible impression on Ugandans for decades to come.”
Lights in a dark world; wisdom in the midst of foolishness; speaking psalms, hymns and spiritual songs.
Coming Alive
A writer whose name I’ve long forgotten wrote this concerning Christian vocation, “Don’t ask what the world needs. Instead, ask what makes you come alive, because what the world needs is people who’ve come alive.”
All of this has been heavy on my heart and stabbing at my soul. And then, I open up Paul’s letter to the Ephesians and read these words:
For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light— 9 for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true. 10 Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord. 11 Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. 12 For it is shameful even to mention what such people do secretly; 13 but everything exposed by the light becomes visible, 14 for everything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, "Sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." 15 Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, 16 making the most of the time, because the days are evil. 17 So do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. 18 Do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery; but be filled with the Spirit, 19 as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts, 20 giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.
The NIV really messes up the interpretation of this text in verses 19ff. Instead of reading, “19Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, 20always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” the NRSV rightly translated this text “19 as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts, 20 giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
The NIV makes this sound like a command from Paul. Oh contrare mon frere. This is not a command, this is a description of what the spirit-filled life looks like. It’s not "do this, do this, do this." It’s “don’t be drunk on wine, be drunk on Jesus. And when you are drunk on Jesus you will find yourself living like this: singing praises and worship to God add the oddest times, in the strangest of circumstances.
In the Church of Christ tradition, this passage has been used to defend acapella music. We ignore the worship context of I. Co 11-14 when Paul talks about women who are leading, prophesying, etc. in the church. And in this passage, we create a context (we say that this is talking about corporate worship) that isn’t even there! How does that work exactly!
Examined or Enacted?
I love to study, read, reflect and study some more. I loved learning the Greek language in seminary. I enjoyed studying the Arian controversy in the early church and the debates among the Patristic Fathers (the what and the who?). I become fixated in the details of the narrative when I study the Civil Rights Movement, or the Bay of Pigs Invasion. I love to learn and drink deeply from good books.
But here’s what I’m slowly learning, the older I get. The Bible isn’t so much interested in being examined as it is interested in being enacted. The students I teach and serve at Rochester College are teaching me this. Most of them don’t know the first thing about the New Testament when they come to my class. They are brilliant by the end of the semester, but that’s because they have a great teacher!
These students can’t explain the synoptic problem, the messianic secret of Mark, or the authorship debates regarding the Gospel of John. They don’t know the Council of Nicea from the latest hot video on MTV. But many of them get it. They understand that Scripture wants to be lived out more than it wants to be litigated by reason and analysis. They understand that God desires for his children to perform the text, not live in years and years of pondering.
Some of our churches "got too many people who know too much Bible but don’t intend to do a thing with the knowledge they possess."
Paul reminds us this morning that we are to be, all metaphors aside, drunk on Jesus.
We choose to be intoxicated with the love and power of Jesus. We do not desire to be inebriated on individualism; sloshed on selfishness; or wasted on worldly ways—rather we choose to be consumed by the power and presence of God in our lives. We choose to follow in the tradition of St. Paul, Brian Lemons, Adam Langford and others—drunk on Jesus for life.
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