Weblog

Monday, 26 October 2009

  • Fall

    Dripping fire. Smokeless flames fleetingly appearing, falling, floating quietly. Woods ablaze and no sign of stopping, quickly replaced by bare, brown branches standing silent testament to what was and what will be. Shocking orange, deep red, brilliant yellow leaping off the hills and congregating in crackly, dead piles. Piled corpses of dancers once dancing but no longer. Even pale yellows, bronze backdrops making all the color seem well-framed and even planned. Even those quiet backdrops, quietly beautiful and quickly gone.

    Senseless beauty. Wasteful, reckless, purposeless beauty. They couldn't just die quietly and simply find their graves in the ground. They couldn't just suddenly move from green to brown. They had to show off, change clothes and take the stage. Senseless. Ridiculous. Wasteful. Beautiful.

    There is no reason for their color change, their chameleon nature. Cholorophyll being blocked, foliage starving, it need not be so colorful. There is no reason. We don't need the trees to tell us the seasons are changing. We're not dumb. It's cold. It's a waste of pigment, an excess of color. It's too much and too showy.

    What is more amazing? The fact that fall is so beautiful or that we can see beauty? Why this appreciation that unites humanity in wasting time staring at stupid plants and their filthy, prideful color? We could have just ignored it. But none of us had to learn to love it. We never were taught to admire a sunset. We were never indoctrinated to appreciate basic, natural beauty. It serves no purpose in us to value the aesthetic nature of the Earth. And yet the aesthetic aspects of nature are inescapable, undeniable and overwhelming.

    The inner longing for beauty, hope, and truth, those universal characteristics of men are excessive in a machine-like world with no plan and random chance as its guide. The fact that we all long, appreciate, snap pictures, and compare leaves is baffling for they tiny happenstances of the universe that we are. For complex accidents of nature, the results of genetic and cosmological lottery, we are awfully obsessed with purpose, design, and beauty. We are likely wasting our time.

    Or the fall comes for a reason. Nature's Pentecost baptizing each of us with wonder. Rustling leaves quietly whispering questions, magnifying them or trying to reignite them. Dying leaves need not be so beautiful, so dynamic, complex, infinite in possibilities. They need not be so exorbitantly gracious in our drab lives. There is no reason for them to dance their elegant, simple dances through the air. Simple foliage need not speak so well to the believer, to the doubter, to the human. There is no need for them.

    And yet here they are. Every year. Shouting the same thing in concert. Springing truth on us, because of us, in spite of us for every revolution around the sun. Ceaselessly. Endlessly. There's no reason for it.

    And yet here we are.

Friday, 09 October 2009

  • East Tennessee Prophets And Hope Obscured

    A couple days ago, I went to hear Shane Claiborne (author of Irresistible Revolution and Jesus For President) speak at Warren Wilson College, which is about 15 minutes from where I live. Warren Wilson is a unique school that has its students work on all areas of the college, including their organic farms. It is known, affectionately and derisively (unfortunately), as "The Hippie School." Most there would maybe take it as a compliment, but it's not said in a complimentary fashion.

    Shane Claiborne was made to speak at Warren Wilson. He's, I'd say, one of the most challenging people with a voice in modern Christianity. He is passionately seeking authentic New Testament life with no excuses and rationales dulling the edges of the Gospel.

    I went into the talk with a bias against Shane. I've read some of his stuff and have found it... it's hard to describe. I think that saying shocking things in a shocking manner while intentionally building an image of an extremist is a cheap trick and intellectually NOT engaging. It's hard for me to see past the hype. And I have deeper issues with some of his Biblical conclusions that, I feel, excludes some Biblical testimony and creates an air of superiority that is unhealthy and ultimately counter-productive. It's hard to get everyone to do what you're doing when you're coming across as often saying, "Don't lie to yourself and don't be dumb. Do what I'm doing."

    I had to mentally just get myself out of critical mode and be willing to LISTEN to what the man had to say. And I was humbled and moved by his talk. I was so impressed by the guy's legitimate and passionate desire to live the life that the Bible calls people to. I don't agree with maybe some of his broader statements, but I'm deeply impressed by the things that he's done and the commitments he's carried out in his life. I mean, how can you look down on a guy for working with Mother Theresa, ministering to war-torn Iraqi communities, and setting up camp in urban Philadelphia to better communities and love people practically in the name of Jesus? Those are kind of awesome things. I was touched by his proclamation of the tangible grace of God for people in a broken world.

    And then the Q&A afterwords. Most of it was interesting or ho hum. But some guy, knowing where he was (a spiritually... open place, shall we say?) and the crowd that was potentially there, asked a question that's pretty straightforward. "We've talked about the inclusivity of the Gospel, how it's for all people, etc. But can you talk about the exclusivity of the Gospel? How it's only through Jesus?" Now, the guy was kinda being a jerk in a way. He was looking for conflict. But once the question's out there, you have to answer it. Either that, or you have to call out the questioner.

    Shane tap-danced it. He gave a political, vague answer that I was absolutely shocked by. In fact, he alluded to how this was a fuzzy question with a big answer than we're comfortable with, etc. I watched him spin phrases and spin away from answering this question as if it was the plague. In all honesty, I was heartbroken.

    You see, all night he'd been talking about the Gospel. The Gospel of Jesus moves people and demands that people, His people, love people radically, tangibly and with no return necessary. It commands discomfort. The Gospel of Jesus is what has moved people throughout Christian history to love the poor, the wounded, the widow, the orphan. It's not some vague ethic involved in some optimists hoping to change the world. It's the Gospel that has driven people and moved them with compassion.

    The Gospel is that Jesus came to rescue people from sin and death. He came to give life and hope.

    How can you leave any room, then, to allow people to think that there's ANY HOPE outside of Jesus? How can you say that, "Ok, maybe you're not DEAD in your sin so much as just... you know, not living optimally"? How can you ignore what the Biblical message is? It's not unclear. It's not fuzzy at all. Jesus talked about death and hell more than anyone else! Paul makes it clear that there is NO LIFE outside of Jesus. You need to be resurrected, not hand held until you die.

    Maybe Shane believes those things. I don't know. Maybe he's afraid of saying that and coming across as saying it gleefully. That is certainly possible. But the answer isn't to NOT say it. It's to say the truth with a broken heart. It's to say it how you mean it. With grief and longing to see the whole earth full of the glory of God. It's to say it how the Bible depicts as God saying it. With care and a desire to see all men saved.

    The New Testament is the most well-supported set of documents in the world in terms of ancient documentation. There's nothing even close. If we have a couple copies of Julius Caesar's histories and they're basically the same, we take it as accurate and reliable. That was what ole Julius wrote. Same thing with Shakespeare and every other piece of antiquity.

    The New Testament has literally HUNDREDS of manuscripts. Thousands. They're all the same with little or no variation. It has more manuscript backing than any work of history and it's not even close. They all carry the words of Jesus the same way. Everyone who knew Jesus and everyone who knew the people who knew Jesus all knew from word go that Jesus preached that in this world there is only death and despair. And the only hope, the only way God was inaugurating a new world, His kingdom was through Jesus. And the message that's loud and clear in the Bible is "Come to Jesus! Come find life! Don't die any longer! Be alive! Have hope!"

    Christians aren't saying, "Pick the right team or go to hell." We're saying you are ALREADY DEAD. You've already chosen the wrong team. You're already well on your way to hell. You probably feel like you're there now. Jesus wants to save you. Do you want to be saved?

    The good things that Shane said aren't less good. They aren't now wrong. They're still right. But, ultimately, if they are not rooted in the fullness of the Gospel, in Jesus, they are another empty offer to the world, a temporary solution. If hope isn't rooted in Jesus Christ, then it's no hope at all.

Monday, 05 October 2009

  • Dr. Seuss and His Pro-Life Rantings

    Probably the most bizarre post title I've ever conceived of. But what can you do? This is what's running through my brain and this what I've thrown on the screen.

    I was in Movie Gallery renting a movie the other day and I browsed their sale of previously viewed/damaged DVDs that were steeply discounted. When your daughter likes watching cartoon movies, you kind of are desperate for new children's movies. I eagerly look forward to Pixar movies. My life, it seems, has descended into the depths of parenthood. And I only have one.

    Anyway, we went for "Horton Hears A Who." It's Dr. Seuss. It's got Steve Carrell and Jim Carrey and... it's not Finding Nemo. So it ticked plenty of boxes. I've watched it several times with my daughter. We've laughed. We've cried (when it was over). It's great.

    I watch it, though, and every time I do, I feel more and more convinced that Pro-life and Pro-abortion groups should sit down together and watch this movie. I'm sure that wasn't on the agenda when Mr. Dr. Seuss was constructing his fine tale. And I would be even more shocked if it was on the moviemakers'. But I feel that this animated children's movie could be disarming enough to momentarily pause shouting matches. Who doesn't love computer-generated elephants?

    I'd love to just look at both sides of the equation and say to the other, "Can we just pause and breathe and just see where everyone's coming from here?" Look, Horton looks like a moron. An idiot. Actually, he looks like a dangerous psycho to his fellow jungle-dwellers. Dude is talking to flowers.

    Pro-Lifers look like this. And worse. But the nicest of them (us... I'll not pretend to be a neutral third party) look like a flower-conversing animated elephant. Culture is united in declaring that, for vast stretches of time, the creatures inside of women's wombs ARE NOT PEOPLE. They cannot be people. They are very small. They are not complex organisms (at some level) and when they do become more developed, they're not exactly proclaiming their personhood and self-awareness. On top of that, people who are adamant in declaring that these ultrasound images are showing an honest-to-goodness person, seem to be willing to disadvantage and emotionally scar humans who are obviously and undeniably people. You know, women. So, to sum up, people are looking at us, valuing the mundane and value-less to the detriment of very valuable women. We look crazy. Maybe dangerous. (Not to mention legitimate psychos who ARE dangerous and, frankly, are no friend of mine. If your solution involves a gun, I'll just pitch my tent a few hundred miles away from you, thanks.)

    But maybe this Dr. Seuss classic-turned-movie could help the pro-abortion crowd understand where Horton's coming from. Ok, you disagree. We understand that. But you have to see that, as far as I know, pro-lifers don't hate women. They're not killjoys that hate sex. They're not excited and looking to make anyone's life miserable. I just don't know anyone like that. They're people who have seen a speck floating by and heard, seriously, HEARD tiny voices crying out, declaring their value. We understand. It looks crazy to see a grouping of cells and to say they deserve the protection that humans standing on their own feet deserve. If we could just watch this movie together and look at each other in the eye and say, "Ok, this is why you act this way."

    Honestly, I would hope this conversation would prompt some question-asking on the pro-abortion side. Those crazy pro-lifers may indeed look psycho. But what if... what if they're right? What if, like Horton, they're seeing something that many, many other people aren't seeing? What if we just don't yet have the tools to give you the more definitive answers that you'd like? Maybe we can't put a mic in the womb and get a sworn affidavit. But the possibility, just the POSSIBILITY, that the end of the movie will come and information will be disclosed and the dawning of realization will come that... crap... he really WAS hearing something and now I hear it too.... Do we want to have to wait that long to come to the same conclusion and have to face those stats? In America... 50 MILLION+ specks have been blown away.

    In the movie, the kangaroo arrogantly turns her nose up on Horton, confidently explaining that there are no such thing as people that can fit on a spech. She's defending her quality of life (she says that in the movie, actually) and rouses the vast population to side with her. "If you can't see it or hear it or feel it... it doesn't exist!" It's her rally cry. And it sounds awfully like the pro-abortion argument at times.

    But those crazy pro-lifers just keep whispering, signing, shouting, insisting... "A person's a person, no matter how small."

    Even if we can't agree on that statement, can we at least understand that whatever side of the coin you come down on, you're going to be moved with passion? Can we take the hatred out of our voices and just speak with conviction and not vitriol?

    I do value a woman's quality of life. I am not unmoved by terrible circumstances under which some children are conceived and others are delivered into. I think THOSE lives aren't valued enough either. But those tiny lives, those specks floating through our society... I can't help but hear those voices and value them equally. We're not talking about political issues or right or left or Republican or Democrat or flesh, or levels of cell division. We're talking about PEOPLE. Women. Children. Families.

    I know you may passionately disagree. Even with a real sense of anger. But... I know which person in the story I want to be. I know what side I'd rather be wrong on. And I know what I think is clearly right. I hear Horton's voice all the time.

    "A person's a person, no matter how small."

Sunday, 30 August 2009

  • Why I Find Myself Going To Seminary

    When people ask what I'm doing these days, I know they don't mean in the immediate. I'm tempted to answer, "Well I do things like eat, drive, sleep, play with my daughter, love my wife... I'm slammed. I do lots of things." They mean more general, overarching things. They want me to supply answers that fit within our American scheme of measurement of one's value. Or, they're just sincerely wanting to know what the heck I'm doing with my life. It's actually more the latter and everyone's really nice about it.

    Currently, I find myself saying... lots of things. I keep trying out new ways to describe/say it that make it sound cooler. I'm "going back to school." I'm "working on my Masters." I'm "in grad school." I'm "a full-time student." It ultimately ends up at the same destination. I end up having to say, "I'm working on getting my MA in Christian Thought at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary."

    Theological Seminary. Ugh. It just sounds pretentious doesn't it? Now to a non-Christian or nominal Christian it's like an instant off switch. Well, for most people. I just see this barely veiled startled look appear in people's eyes as they scramble for an appropriate question or response to this news. I think, mainly, they want to ask "ugh... why?!" I don't know if it's better or worse than the response a person gets if they say, "I'm a pastor." I think, maybe, when they meet a pastor, they know they are looking at someone who is a bona fide psycho. Someone in seminary is someone who is voluntarily BECOMING insane. It's incomprehensible. There's nothing that I really can do about that for people in this category. I do my best to explain the coursework and not appear to be anything different than the guy they were just happily having a beer with.

    Christians, though. They're interesting. They fall into many categories. Many are just plain supportive. Some, though, are supportive because this is the natural order of the pastor species. You're born, you learn to read, you meet on a mountain top with Jesus, you go to seminary to get your pastor gifting handed to you along with your degree, and you go on to your assigned profession of talking non-stop.

    Other Christians, the side of the fence I grew up with, tend to look at you like many non-Christians do. They look at me all cock-eyed like I just said I'm going to work part-time for Lucifer. For some reason, among the more charismatic of Christians in America, seminary has all the appeal of Nazi bootcamp. Good, decent Christians who love Jesus go to seminary and come out zombies who have all the passion of well-made chalk. They can't fathom why people, and especially me since they know me, would go to SCHOOL to prepare for ministry. I mean really, what does a classroom have to do with listening to Jesus and communicating what He says.

    It's been an interesting journey. I didn't even want to go to college. I wanted to, somehow, miraculously, leave high school and start working at a church, preferably for around $2 million a year. But I went to college and found that... lo and behold... I really liked it. In fact, I learned alot that I wouldn't have been able to learn by myself. I had discussion with people. I was challenged. I was changed. I was affirmed in many things I believe. I found this to be an enjoyable process. Seminary become a possibility on my horizon because I figured, "If some is good... more is better."

    I have been surprised at how often I have to explain why I felt seminary was necessary. My reasoning usually goes like this:

    A) It isn't necessary.
    B) It's beneficial.

    I want to be the best I can with the gifts I have. God gave me a brain to use and the ability to communicate with people at person-to-person and person-to-group levels. If I do not do anything I can to develop those things, I neglect my gifts and dishonor God. I don't feel like seminary makes great church leaders. I do believe it can make great church leaders even better. It's putting more tools in the toolbelt. I want all the tools I can get my hands on.

    I'm fortunate to be able to be invested in a local church, actively involved in bringing things from the classroom to the street. I think if all I did was sit in a classroom for two years, I'd go crazy. But when I can digest and spit things out that are worthless, superfluous or just wrong... I love it.

    I know plenty of people will just think I'm nuts, or wasting time, or wasting money, or committing myself to the removal of my heart. There's nothing I can do right now to convince many people otherwise. But I read things for my classes that do more than inform my mind. They move my heart. I'm impressed and challenged by the passion of the Reformers. I think about aspects of God's character that I would never have just stumbled upon. I think better at the big picture level.

    I'm reading about Jonathan Edwards right now for a class on... Jonathan Edwards. I don't know that I've ever been so moved and encouraged by someone's biography. I feel like I'm reading about someone who I understand to some degree who would understand some of the things that I struggle with. I read about a guy whose heart is soft and walks through fields gazing upon and thinking about the beauty of God. A man intimately familiar with the "affections" of the Spirit. But he also stands as a man who is one of the greatest minds America has produced, Christian or not. He was a philosopher, a scientist, a theologian and a flat out genius. I read it and I find hope that maybe, just maybe, it's ok to be moved at the deepest levels of the heart, to listen to the Spirit, AND aspire to know as much as I can. I find hope that knowing about God can be a great part of the process of knowing God. I mean, Jesus is awesome. But I want to find as many ways to realize and explain that as I can.

    To do that... I'm going to seminary.

    So yeah, that's what I'm doing these days.

Wednesday, 19 August 2009

  • Forward Looking Flashbacks

    Last Saturday, my sister-in-law, Lisa, got married. We were in Michigan for two weeks or so making sure it was the party of the century (at least from my perspective... I have very little party experience. Too loser-ish) and everything she hoped for. I think it was. There was 500 people dancing around in the middle of a cornfield that, shortly before, was ONLY a cornfield. Seriously, I didn't know you could turn such bare earth into a veritable city. Honestly, you could live there. I had very little to do with that except to carry, hold, or fetch whatever I was told. I know nothing about almost everything, so I kept my mouth shut, eyes open, and sweated alot. It went well.

    The service was Ryann Grace's debut as a flower girl. She did pretty well during rehearsal, but I was not feeling so great about the wedding day. I felt sure that when all those heads turned towards her, all the "oh!" and "how adorable!" comments (I just knew they'd be there) came flying at her little head, she would freeze, panic, and begin desperately looking for mom or dad or anyone familiar to rescue her. I was preparing myself, not without a little hint of pleasure, for the rescue. I would comfort my little girl and point her towards mom waiting at the end and she would do fine.

    She didn't need me. She was amazing. She held the ring bearer's hand (that jerk) and strolled down the aisle. She examined her pretty white shoes (she asked for them later, just to play in), gazed at that aisle thing that the bride traipses across, and then calmly noticed everyone staring at her. She just kept walking right along. Never blinked. Never wavered.

    I sighed. Slightly disappointed, but very proud, as if she just discovered that she could heal the world with a breath from her nostrils. She was a star.

    At the end of the wedding, I almost blew it. You see, you have to walk back OUT with the wedding party. I had to run to the back of the church, snatch her up, run back to the front and catch the rest of the little kids acting as flower girls and such. They were a good ways up the aisle when I pointed them out to her and told her to get moving.

    She ran down the aisle, reaching for that ring bearer's hand (seriously... what a jerk) and generally made everyone sign and smile. I smiled. I was, once again, sure that she would bring peace to the Middle East.

    In the days since, I remembered the twinge I felt in my heart as I saw her run up the aisle in that pretty dress. I felt it immediately but didn't acknowledge it. Now, I can barely stop thinking about it. I know the day will come fairly quickly when we will be staring down the barrel of that aisle, but she will be much bigger. She will hold MY arm. She will want to run down all over again, but I'll walk her down, holding her to the earth even as she floats away. I'll dread those seconds and be thankful for them all at the same time. I'll be happy for her, but sad for me. I'll have to give my little girl to someone else.

    I can still remember how hard it was to say goodbye that first day I had to go to work after she was born. I remember feeling so helpless as I looked at this little girl. What was I supposed to do? I felt so lost and inadequate. Sometimes I still do. I struggle to know how to entertain her when, so often, I just want to just BE THERE with her, watch her, talk to her, hold her. She's much too squirmy for that and wanting something to do. I rarely know how to play with a little girl. How do I communicate to her that I already have a hard time sharing her? I try to remember to be generous with my daughter. But really, I want to hold her, I want to bathe her, I want to comfort her, I want to lay her down to sleep.

    I'm not looking forward to that day 20 years from now (or 25 or 30 if she wishes... but she won't). I'm not looking forward to turning her loose from me for the last time. I am looking forward to her being thrilled and happy to see that guy (the jerk) waiting for her. Until then, I have so much to teach her. How to NOT throw like a girl. How to love others more than herself. How to love and respect herself enough to not let guys use her. How to write her own stories. How to inflict maximum damage on any boy who needs it. How to be beautiful in a world obsessed with "hott." How to have fun, try new things, grow, and change. How to lead. How to watch sports with dad every once in a while just to hang out. How to choose a good wine. How to NOT choose that wine (or beer) until she's legal, responsible, and ready to steward herself as God's own possession. How to keep laughing that wonderful laugh that will change in tone, but hopefully not in spirit. How to let dad take care of her. How to learn to take care of herself.

    I love her very much. I'm not looking forward to that moment, but I'm looking forward to being ready for it. I'll probably cry that day. And the days leading up to it.

    I just hope she doesn't make fun of me for it.

    talking to Ryann

    ryann dad kiss

Top Tags - Weblog

[no tags]