Latte Life At The Crossroads

"I'm not dead yet..."

2012-01-03T20:40:00.003-07:00

Seriously. I know my cyber-absence has concerned some (Hi Mom!), but rest assured I'm alive and well. The reason for my paucity of penmanship online...hmmm...well, busyness most certainly (fall had lots of new activities outside my immediate comfort zone--teaching our church's Men's Life, which starts at 5:45AM Tuesdays, and tutoring my Columbine Elementary first-grader were some of the top new items, both of which have been significant blessings, to me at least). Beyond busyness (which I'm sure any of us could cite) I'd add parenting a senior in high school (weekly football games--Go, Coyotes!) as well as parenting a pre-teen, both of which make me feel my middleagedness. Thankfully, I've got a great parenting partner in my wife, who's a fabulous mom.

I think, more deeply, that some of my reticence for going online has been a certain innate bashfulness. No, really. I want to have something worthwhile to say here and when I'm busy or otherwise distracted, I find it hard to dig deep, write thoughtfully, and take your time to read it. There's an inevitable self-promotion in blogging (and other social media). When my creative juices are flowing in other directions, I find it tough to justify putting just anything up here. Capisce?

Beyond that, I'm finding that given some free time, I would prefer to read, ride my bike (weather permitting), or simply be quiet. The internet beckons incessantly for our attention and now that I've got an iPad and wireless keyboard (both of which are very cool), it would be much too easy to stay immersed in digital media, which doesn't feel all that healthy, to be honest.

So, it's a new year and it's a chance to look backward with thanksgiving and forward with hope. From both vantage points I'm grateful for your readership. More soon--hopefully!

The Challenge of Hybrids

2011-09-01T11:43:00.003-06:00

Hybrids--they're all around us, at least here in Boulder, Colorado. The parking garage at a local mall even has specially-reserved spots for hybrid automobiles. I confess I'm drawn to hybrid cars, wondering if someday my next vehicle will run on this novel blend of electric- and petroleum-powered engines.

Of course, hybrids aren't without their challenges, apparently. They tend to be more costly than regular cars, less widely available, and offer slower acceleration. Plus, they're often smaller and less safe in collisions. They even need their batteries replaced at some point, which can be costly. Hybrids are great; but they have their challenges.

I've been thinking about human origins recently. As I tend to read the creation accounts of Genesis 1-2 theologically, instead of literally, I've wondered about homo sapiens and its development from other hominids. If we accept evolutionary hypotheses, what, for instance, is the common ancestor we would have had at one point with the apes? At what time did God possibly breathe into human beings a living soul (Genesis 2:7)? Could this have been the point at which the image of God in human beings was sealed and confirmed? If so, then we are hybrids of the highest order: eternal souls from God indwelling created bodies which share many features in common with lower animals. We are rational, spiritual...and carnal creatures, every one of us. And herein lies the challenge of hybrids.

Our animalistic urges, possibly those lodged in the so-called "Reptilian brain", that section where fear and other primitive impulses originate, move us to breed, fight, dominate, and slake our appetites. Our higher qualities, those which stem from our origin in the image of God, move us toward morality, self-sacrifice for another's good, altruism, and unconditional love. We are eternal spirits inhabiting animal bodies. We soar...and we crawl. We sacrifice for others...and we serve ourselves. Human history is the narrative of these challenges. Without the superintending of our higher selves, we can yield to animal behaviors. This is the challenge of living as hybrids. But this challenge is exacerbated by what the Bible teaches as "original sin." Created as hybrids in the image of God, we were given freedom to choose loving relationships of service to God and others. However, the Bible says we've abused our freedom, chosen to worship and serve ourselves and into our hybridized challenges we've injected sin, this self-serving, destructive impulse. Sin, infecting our human spiritual DNA, makes it even more challenging for us now to reign in the animal impulses which course just beneath our consciousness.

This is our reality, as hybrid human beings. And it's into this reality that the Ultimate Hybrid comes, the God-man Jesus Christ. He is the one who bears the untainted image of human beings made in the image of God (he's fully human, in the best sense). And he is the one who uniquely bears the image of God (he's fully divine--Colossians 1:15). He alone can reign over the history of turmoil between these higher and lower impulses, especially the strife created in our fall from grace due to original sin. Jesus alone, in his life, death, and resurrection, can fully heal, redeem, purify, and perfect the hybrid human being. It's a process which begins now in this life as we come to him in humble faith; and it's one that will thankfully be fulfilled in the life to come.

Earth-shaking Theology

2011-08-25T10:58:00.004-06:00

"There will be earthquakes in various places, and famines. These are the beginning of birth pains..." --Jesus, Mark 13:8

Like many of us, I heard the news of this week's Virginia temblor with surprise: "What?" we all wondered, "an earthquake on the East Coast?!" Turns out it was the largest earthquake in more than 40 years. Added to this seismic strangeness was the unexpected rumble in our own state: southern Colorado also had a decent earthquake the same day as the Virginia shaker. Hmmm...

As I've mentioned here before, I grew up in Southern California, spent much of my young adult life in the San Francisco Bay Area, returned to greater LA for seminary, and served a church for ten years back in the Bay Area. I've felt my share of earthquakes, including some really big ones I thought were THE Big One. In our Oakland home, we had to sign papers at the purchase acknowledging we were in the "special study zone", a deceptively benign phrase meaning our home was built over a branch of the notorious Hayward Fault. Like our neighbors, we retrofitted our home to protect us in the event of a quake: we sheer-wall paneled the frame of the house in the basement, to spread out the stresses of the shaking; we also drilled and bolted the beams of the frame deep into the concrete foundation. These measures don't eliminate the risks; they merely mitigate them and give residents greater peace of mind. You see, no matter how well you prepare, earthquakes still make you feel small, vulnerable, and out of control. Usually, it's a bad feeling. There's no advance warning and there's no respecting of persons--everyone's affected.

When earthquakes hit places like Indonesia, Japan, or even the West Coast of the U.S., we feel bad for those involved, but we tend to expect these phenomena. But Virginia? Colorado? Hello?! Something about these quakes tends to get my apocalypse meter twitching...

I'm no Harold Camping, no alleged Bible prophet. Far from it. But I know enough about earthquakes in the Bible to know these key points: 1) as a metaphor, earthquakes point to the transcendent power of God, often in judgment for sin. The smallness we feel--the vulnerability induced--from earthquakes reminds us that God is in control and we are not. Earthquakes catch our attention and wake us up; God does that too. How we live matters. And being related well to God is vitally important in this; 2) Earthquakes are signs which Jesus says will accompany the end of the world, "the beginning of birth pains" for the new heaven and earth he will create. Rather than predict his timetable (a notoriously foolish thing to do), I'd rather just say, "Live in readiness." Life's not going to march on endlessly. History is not like a wheel rolling ever onward. History's headed someplace; it's heading, ultimately, to Someone.

So bolt yourself into the Foundation. Relate yourself well and deeply to the God who loves you in Christ. Trust in him and cling to him--and you'll weather whatever quakes should come.

Dress-Up and Make Believe

2011-08-18T11:00:00.008-06:00

"...You have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator...Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience."
--Paul's Letter to the Colossians 3:9-10, 12

At the risk of seeming cheap and shallow, I begin with a cycling illustration. I've realized that cycling's appeal for me is three-fold: 1) it offers great cardiovascular exercise; 2) I get to do it in the great outdoors and enjoy creation; and 3) it's got cool gear. Today is about #3. Bear with me.

The cool gear piece is fascinating to me. I love the technology of bike design and production. I geek out over measuring my efforts in watts, mile-per-hour averages, beats-per-minute, and gradient percentages. I think the style and traditions of pro cycling, including the cycling kit (uniform) design and function, are intriguing. In fact, I would go further: getting into the cool gear and experiencing its performance advantages is a large part of the fun. It could be just "dress-up and make believe" for this recreational cyclist; or it could be more.

This is where the "more" comes in. When I played tennis competitively in high school, I noticed that those who dressed the part usually played better than those who didn't. Could've been just superficial; but I don't think so. When you feel like a tennis player and look like a tennis player, your commitment to the sport (and often your performance) improves. You dress the part and often you end up living the part.

I think cycling is like that, for me at least. When I'm kitted up and riding my Cervelo, I find myself pushing harder, aiming higher, riding better. I dress like a cyclist; I then find myself riding like a cyclist. There's some connection between dress and behavior--and indeed lifestyle.

I think Paul got this right in his Letter to the Colossians. He urges his readers to grasp the fact that they are--at their core, in the ground of their being--new creations in Christ. Their faith in Jesus and his resurrection has transformed them spiritually and eternally. They aren't the same as before. Everything has changed. Paul then asks them to live true to their new identities: to take off (the metaphor is of undressing) their old selves and habits and in their place clothe themselves with their new selves and behaviors. To the outside observer (and occasionally to those practicing this themselves!) this may seem like "dress up and make believe." A "fake it 'til you make it" practice of Christian virtue. But it's not. If we take Paul seriously (and Jesus more seriously still), this conscious clothing of ourselves in new behaviors reinforces and extends our new spiritual identity. We are new; we dress new; we live new. Our spiritual clothing shapes our actual behavior. We live the part we dress. See the connection?

So, paraphrasing C.S. Lewis in his classic Mere Christianity, don't worry if you don't feel like you love others; act as if you did. And, as as you practice this love, as you "put it on", you will find yourself living it. Dress up and make believe may not be so wrong after all.

A Tribute to Uncle John

2011-08-11T11:15:00.007-06:00

On July 27, 2011, at 90 years old, the Rev. Dr. John R.W. Stott went home to be with the Lord he loved and proclaimed, the One he faithfully served throughout his life as a single man in Great Britain and across the world.

I was introduced to the writings of "Uncle John" (as he liked to be called) as a newborn college Christian at U.C. Berkeley. His precise prose and lucid Bible exposition through his commentaries on Paul's Letter to the Ephesians (God's New Society) and the Sermon on the Mount (Christian Counter-Culture) not only grounded my newfound faith in solid biblical teaching, they gave me confidence in the intellectual integrity of Christianity in a secular university setting. Stott, along with the writings of C.S. Lewis, the weekly preaching of First Pres Berkeley pastor Earl Palmer, and the caring, creative leadership of college pastor Mark Labberton, launched me on a lifetime of discipleship and crystallized my calling to be a pastor.

After graduating from Cal, I spent a year working as library supervisor at Stott's London Institute of Christianity. I was privileged to get to know Stott personally, being invited to breakfast one on one in his Weymouth Street flat, joining his monthly "Contemporary Christian" discussion group assessing popular culture from a biblical vantage point, and (in the picture above) getting to spend a week with Uncle John and a small work crew at the Hookses, his Welsh cottage where he retreated to work on many of his books. Additionally, I sat week by week under his teaching, whether at the LICC courses or from the pulpit of All Souls Church, Langham Place.

You can read obituaries and glowing tributes to Stott from writers like Tim Stafford. All of these will give you many of the important details of his life. I'd like to offer just a few thoughts on his personal impact on me. First of all, I was deeply impressed by his integrity as a Christian: Stott lived his faith in every setting in which I observed him--whether speaking to a street person or preaching in a large setting. He lived simply and humbly, rarely having more than a few suits or coats. He gave most of the proceeds of his books to third-world Christian scholars; he even learned to hug people (something very hard to do for a British man of his social background!). His was an integrated faith, unreservedly seeking to apply the whole of his mind and life to the life and teachings of Jesus. Secondly, Stott gave me a deep love for biblical learning. His precise words and careful outlines led me and others into the heart of the Bible's message. It was like a clear glass of refreshing water each time I heard him: I came away with thirst slaked for the moment, but curiously thirsting for more. Each sermon I heard impressed me with God and Christ; Uncle John faded into the background. Through him I heard them. This has been an enduring model for me. I loved (and in his writings still love) his economical use of English: like a scalpel, his words sliced evenly and precisely to the point. Stott possessed a brilliant mind and life which stood "Between Two Worlds" (as his famous book on preaching was entitled); his teachings convincingly showed how the ancient Scriptures speak with relevance and challenge to the (now post-)modern world.

During that year in London, whenever I got to be near him, John Stott's love and example touched me. He's shaped me; some of him still lives within me and others I know who've been blessed to be in his orbit. I have felt God's grace in all of this: as a young man from California to be treated so undeservingly to life-changing contact with one of this generation's most gifted Christian leaders, is a great gift indeed. Thank you, dear God. And thank you, Uncle John.

Roots and Refreshment

2011-07-25T13:36:00.002-06:00

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."
Jesus, in John 15:5

It's been wet and now it's hot in Boulder County, Colorado. Everything's green and the roses out front, despite my brown thumb, are flourishing. We have the mini ones: a burst of more than a dozen in a small handful. I pruned off a spray and put it in a vase on the kitchen table more than a week ago. It's still remarkably well. But as you and I know, it won't be much longer. In fact, it'll wither, grow dry and brown, and the water will turn foul and brackish. That's the way it is with cut flowers. Nice for a short while, then dead and fit only for the garbage can.

How different from their cousins out front, who remain rooted in the front yard! Each morning the sprinklers come on and when one branch of flowers withers, another quickly takes its place. There's renewal and refreshment from their rootedness in soil and sprinklers. It's true: even these roses won't last but a season. But the rose bush itself, rooted deeply in the ground, will survive the winter and return in full flower next summer. That's the way it is with growing things.

And that's the way it is with us. Too often we expect to flourish long after we've removed ourselves from the Source of life and renewal. We live "cut-flower lives"--vital for a season, but subject to withering effects that dry us out and drain us of life. We need to rediscover life in the soil, with roots sunk deep into the rhythms of God. This means rest and refreshment through adequate sleep, exercise, play, and vacation. It means a life-giving, on-going personal relationship with God in Jesus Christ, the "Vine", as he called himself. As he said, we are his branches. Rooted in him, we find vitality, wholeness, hope, and help. We flourish.

But let's be clear: it's not instantaneous. Growing things don't work that way. It takes a while for the life to saturate the branch, for the nutrients to flow into the extremities. There are seasons, too--of flowering and withering, of verdant green and moribund brown. But rooted in the soil, the Life remains--and will triumph over the seasons of time and adversity. Thanks to Jesus Christ, dead but now alive, we too, rooted in him, will die and live again. It's life on the vine. And the great thing is that it's never too late to be grafted back in!

How is it with you? Is it life in the vase or life on the vine? Are you sunk in the soil or sunk in your situation? Let this summer--and the ample illustrations all around us--lead you to Life.

"Suffer the Little Children"

2011-07-05T16:17:00.004-06:00

Recently, my wife and I watched "The King's Speech." In case you haven't seen it, it's a tremendous movie about King George VI's rise to the monarchy despite a debilitating speech impediment. It’s a malady he struggles to overcome with the help of his speech therapist, an Australian commoner. While I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, one scene struck me as pivotal: as the speech therapist gently tries to uncover the roots of his stuttering, the then Prince Albert mentions his closeness to his governess and how he and his siblings as children were "presented" to his parents once a day. Presumably, they were washed, groomed, dressed, told to bow and curtsy as they were reviewed by the current King and Queen. Presumably, whatever was deemed unacceptable in the royal presence was hidden from view, denied, discouraged, or dismissed. The tension between his formal relationship with his parents and his inner sense of inadequacy "leaked" out in the stammering of "B-b-b-Bertie" as he was cruelly nicknamed.

Lest we think this was merely the monarch's fate, may I remind us of that unfortunate phrase commonly heard a generation or two ago: "Children are to be seen and not heard." In many of our cultures and backgrounds this applied, even if informally. Children, in their spontaneity and messiness, their lack of manners and polish, their rampant "id" or instinctive urges, were seen as disruptive to the adult world. Many children learned, as a result, to stuff and hide their less acceptable selves. They began to focus on externals: how they looked and spoke, how they performed, what they achieved. But beneath these little adults were children who needed to be loved and accepted for who and what they genuinely were--without the polish and the pretense.

Enter religion. If ever there was an apt analogy, this is it! Like stammering Bertie, how many of us in the church can come to THE King, attempting to present our polished perfect selves for review, doing our best to hide what we fear is unacceptable beneath the veneer. Unsure of the King's reception, we do our best to clean up our language, our behavior, our lives--hoping that we'll be accepted and approved.

Here's where Jesus comes in. To correct our projections of "The King" onto God, God must come down to us and reveal his love in flesh and blood. We see Jesus embrace the outcast, touch the leper, welcome the sinful woman, and then…and then...invite the children to come to him.

"People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, 'Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.' And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them." --Mark 10:13-16 NRSV

Little children, especially when they are heard and seen, can be messy, unruly, and out of control. Like the disciples, we can speak sternly to them and discourage them from these behaviors, especially in the church, “the King's place”. Like unfortunate Bertie, our little children, at least in the past, were often encouraged to become little adults to in order to gain entry to parental love and acceptance. Jesus, who reveals God more accurately to us, is indignant: no need to clean up your act in order to get to him! No need to have it all together to experience his love! Come--come to him as you are, in all the messiness of your inner child. Bring your true self to him, because that is the one he wants. No pretending! In fact, only this true self can be loved and healed and brought into the kingdom of God. It's this self, in all its messiness, failure and fault, that Jesus takes up into his arms, lays his hands upon, and blesses.

In some respects, we all stutter, stammer, limp, posture and pretend. None of us were raised perfectly (and none of us raise our children perfectly). The good news is that our Father accepts us in Christ just the way we are. And then, in Christ, God takes us on a lifelong journey of transformation, helping us grow into our belovedness, into the family image--from the inside out.

Together we're on this journey, daring to trust in the Father's love. It's a dynamic, ongoing process: bravely acknowledging new levels of our brokenness and need and bringing these into the love and light of Christ--daring to trust in God's gracious acceptance which will never let us go.

People of the Land

2011-06-28T16:20:00.002-06:00

Recently, I attended a church event on the far eastern plains of Colorado. Two and a half hours' drive from the Denver metro area, this place seemed at first not much more than a barren, windswept wasteland. Pancake-flat, the horizon seemed to stretch out endlessly in every direction. Without the Front Range to my west, I felt lost and disoriented.

Life seems simpler--and yet more challenging--out on the plains. Those at our meeting were farmers or otherwise tied to the land; they spoke of feeling cut off in many ways from the urban areas to their west. And one person's comment about the weather really stayed with me: "Yeah, that recent thunderstorm! The hail took out a hundred acres of my crops." Wow.

These are people of the land; people who work the land and whose livelihoods are wrapped up in the largely unpredictable patterns of weather and climate. Simpler folk, perhaps; but their humility, persistence, and patience stuck with me.

We city folk go a mile a minute. Our lives zip along at the speed of the Internet. Our livelihoods are tied up in the economy; but we're not at the mercy of the latest hailstorm, tornado, or drought. Too easily we can feel ourselves masters of our own destiny. Too easily we can forget our contingency on things beyond our control--as well as our need for God's grace at every turn. A certain subtle hubris sets in.

The people of the land I met seemed more humble, more (dare I say it) down to earth. It would've been easy for me to dismiss them as country bumpkins. I'm glad I didn't. I think I (and perhaps we) have much to learn from them.

The Blessed Simplicity of Telling the Truth

2011-05-23T18:38:00.001-06:00

"Let your word be 'Yes, Yes' or 'No, No'; anything more than this comes from the evil one." --Jesus, in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:37)

Retired pro cyclist Tyler Hamilton's testimony on last night's CBS 60 Minutes was riveting. Clearly uncomfortable at Scott Pelley's pointed questions, but compelled to answer them nonetheless, Hamilton alleged multiple occasions of doping by Lance Armstrong and the US Postal Service Pro Cycling Team. He included himself in just about every example he gave. I turned off the TV feeling sad and empty. Clearly, there's been a pattern of lying and deceit somewhere. And on whom you pin the blame lies largely with your loyalties. If you're a cancer survivor, you hope and pray Lance is innocent. He's your inspiration, after all, and if he can fight the disease successfully, maybe you can too. If you've spent much time following pro cycling and have seen the avalanche of indictments, confessions, and bans as a result of doping in cycling, you are jaded and cynical: how can Lance NOT have been doping, you mutter. Wherever you stand, you're witnessing painful untruths by someone somewhere.

A wise friend said to me earlier this day, "Denial is a lot like alcohol abuse: it seems to work in the short term to solve your problems; but long-term, it wrecks your life." Clearly, in pro cycling there's been a pattern of denial and deception in the ranks. Now we don't know whom to trust and the taint of scandal will continue to linger over cycling victories, marring the performances and raising suspicions. I hope we can move through this. Maybe it's a good reminder to recognize that lying and deceit may work in the short run, but they have a habit of catching up with you eventually. And when they do they can wreck your life. Jesus's advice is to keep it simple: tell the truth and your life works better down the road. It's hard to put a price on integrity.

The Problem with Numerology

2011-05-21T10:34:00.000-06:00

If I'm not mistaken (and, granted, I live in a later time zone), the End of Days has not occurred today, May 21, 2011. Therefore, Harold Camping's prediction--based on his biblical calculations using numerology and other forms of esoteric interpretation--is wrong.

Last time this happened for Camping (1994), I pastored a congregation just up the hill from his church. I recall gathering shortly afterwards with local clergy for our monthly prayer meeting and one of them reminded us of the sober fate Camping would've faced if his failed prediction had occurred in Old Testament times (Scripture at that point mandated capital punishment for false prophets--see Deuteronomy 18:20-22!). Please, please, don't misunderstand me: I'm not in any way advocating the same for Camping or anyone else (nor do I think that the New Testament allows for this)! But there's a gravity to these kinds of predictive errors which must be mentioned. At the very least, these misguided efforts cast ridicule on Christ and the Church, they lead gullible people astray, and they present a pathetic witness to the world.

Worse than this, these attempts fly in the face of very obvious biblical teaching, which clearly states that no one--not even Jesus!--knows the day or hour of his return (see previous post on Matthew 24:36). At their heart, such erroneous calculations reveal the essential problem with numerology or any form of bible interpretation that purports to have discovered a hidden message in Scripture, particularly one that divines a future timetable: the Bible is meant for public revelation that leads its readers to a saving knowledge of God in Jesus Christ and facilitates faithful living in the present. It is NOT, repeat NOT, a mysterious Ouija board only to be interpreted by those anointed with special knowledge, nor is the Bible a sealed scroll to be unlocked by some mysterious interpretive key.

The Apostle Paul, writing to the Colossian church in the context of early gnosticism and mystery religions (both of which said salvation was only for the secret initiated elite, not the hoi polloi), was careful to stress that the gospel message was on OPEN secret! In fact, using the special language which these cults employed, Paul turned their meaning inside-out: the gospel was a public invitation (given by God to all!) of Christ's offer of life. Paul went further: he even revealed to everyone what the secret mystery was! "To [Christ's followers, that is everybody who trusts in him] God chose to make known how great...are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory" (Colossians 1:27). The point is that the Christian message of life is an open secret given to everyone! Any interpretive grid which asserts a secret message in the Bible denies this essential aspect of God's revelation. God's intent in coming to earth and speaking to us through his Son Jesus Christ (and the writings he commissioned) is for the message of grace and new life to be available to all. To claim that one person alone (or a sect or cult) solely possesses insight into a hidden biblical mystery flies in the face of this and contradicts the clear intent of the Bible.

We've got to learn that we can't control many aspects of the world and our lives. To live with a reverent agnosticism (see my previous post) and to humbly admit we cannot know the time of Christ's return, is an indispensable aspect of our humanity and our discipleship.

The Wisdom of "Reverent Agnosticism"

2011-05-18T14:18:00.003-06:00

"But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father...keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming...Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour." Matthew 24:36, 42, 44

If you read the Doonesbury comic strip (as I do), you know that Garry Trudeau is currently poking fun at the doomsday predictions of Alameda, California preacher Harold Camping. Camping, based on his reading of the Bible, declares this Saturday, May 21, 2011 to be the Second Coming of Christ. For weeks now, news reports from NPR to local TV stations have been highlighting Camping's audacious claims. This fellow's done this before: last time he claimed Christ's return was to be in 1994, which he then readjusted based on fresh understandings of Scripture (or so he says).

There are two mistakes we can make with predictions like these. The first is dismissive skepticism: "What a nut!", we might say, "Who does he think he is?!" and laugh it off without another thought. Clearly, the secular media is chuckling like this now. That's certainly what Doonesbury's doing. While this is understandable from those who don't have regard for the Bible, for those of us who do, to dismiss a concept like the end of the world is ill-advised. Scripture clearly teaches the return of Christ (and the oft-recited Apostles Creed makes it clear).

The opposite mistake is to do what Zonker's gullible neighbor is doing: give away all your possessions, quit your job, and hunker down til Saturday, trusting that somehow Harold Camping accessed the divine timetable.

The third and best way, is to take to heart the words of Jesus in Matthew: recognize that Christianity has always taught the return of Jesus to judge the earth, right all wrongs, and usher in a new heaven and new earth. But don't set a timetable! If Jesus himself doesn't know the day or hour of his return, how can Harold Camping? Or you or I? What's needed is a reverent agnosticism, a humble refusal to try to manage, manipulate, or otherwise predict the return of Christ. Rather, we must live in readiness, doing the things Christ would have us do--love God and neighbor, serve the poor, work for justice, feed the hungry, heal the sick, teach the truth, and welcome the stranger. In other words, we are to be faithful.

No one knows the day or hour. But we do know what he wants from us. That should do until Saturday...and beyond.

A Culture of Resurrection

2011-05-09T16:00:00.011-06:00

Two things are on my heart as I write this. First, I received the sad news earlier today that Belgian pro cyclist Wouter Weylandt was killed crashing on a descent during Stage 3 of the Tour of Italy. He was 26 and well-respected in the pro peloton. In fact, strangely enough, he had won stage 3 at last year's Tour of Italy. While competitive cycling is a dangerous sport and racers are vulnerable to crashes and injuries, tragic deaths like this one are quite rare. When they occur they catch our attention. I think it gives every cyclist pause. My wife, non-cylist but loving cycling supporter, was first to text me the news. I admit I paused before heading out on my Sunshine Canyon ride at lunch. In fact, knowing I was riding, my wife called me while I was on the bike just to make sure I was okay. A death like this one reminds us of our mortality and the relative fragility of each of our lives. If it's not a bike crash, it could be a suspicious mole, a positive lab result, or the sudden onset of chest pains. Our mortality remains 100% and we pause.

But I went for my bike ride anyway.

I'm glad I did. The alternative (giving in to fear or deciding to ride the plains instead of the hills) didn't make sense. I love cycling and I know I'm mortal (midlife reminds you of that more and more), but I want to affirm the good gifts of God in this life, acknowledge my brief sojourn here on earth, AND affirm the resurrection to come.

Which leads me to the second thing on my heart today. A friend in our church has sent me a link to a marvelous article in Christianity Today entitled "A Culture of Resurrection: How the church can help its people die well" (http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2010/june/5.35.html).

Here, Rob Moll reflects on how we can better remind our fellow Christians of the reality of death and resurrection. These are not morbid topics, the writer maintains, but biblically-speaking, they are unashamed truths of Christian life. Churches in the past often had cemeteries attached to them, places where worshipers were reminded each time they gathered of the Church Triumphant--those saints who'd gone before them and were, as the Bible so nicely puts it, "asleep." (The root of the word "cemetary" is from the Greek word for "sleep"!) Death for the Christian is indeed sleep. For as Paul so elegantly writes: "Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him...Therefore encourage one another with these words" (1Thessalonians 4:13-18 NIV 2011).

Eastertide, the weeks following Easter which precede Pentecost, is a season in which we recognize our mortality and affirm our hope of resurrection. No doubt about it: life is frail and short on earth, but don't let it curl you into a fetal ball. Christ is Risen Indeed!...so take that bike ride.

Holy Saturday

2011-04-23T10:54:00.001-06:00

I'm intrigued by this day. It's a quiet, in-between day, wedged between the horror of Good Friday and the glory of Easter Sunday. For most of us, Holy Saturday is a day of preparation: getting that ham ready, dyeing Easter eggs, setting out what we'll wear to church Easter morning (or even putting the final touches on our sermon). But what was Jesus doing this day, so many years ago?

The Creed says that on this day "he descended into hell." What does THAT mean? (I maintain a webpage of FAQs of faith, spirituality, theology, and the Bible and this question always comes up. Click on the link in the column to your right!) Some people take that phrase literally: they look at possible parallels in puzzling texts like 1Peter 3:19, "[Jesus] was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit, in which also he went and made a proclamation to the spirits in prison" (according to some, that means he was preaching the gospel in hell). It's hard to know for sure. Usually, I'm comfortable citing John Calvin (Institutes, II.xvi, 10), who saw this reference as spiritual, describing Christ's descent into the anguish of utter Godforsakenness. That makes sense to me: Jesus, by absorbing every single sin of every single human-being, suffered the full penalty, being estranged from God in his entirety, a certain definition of hell on many levels. As my wife said at the breakfast table this morning, Holy Saturday may've been worse for Jesus than Good Friday.

I guess the takeaway for us is that as quiet and unassuming as this day may seem (and it's anything but), Jesus wasn't just biding his time, waiting in the wings 'til Easter morning. He was paying the full price for all our sins and failings. Just because it's quiet today, doesn't mean nothing's happening.

Passport Please

2011-03-28T13:41:00.004-06:00

I've just returned from Cancun, Mexico with my family. Beautiful place, relaxing, warm, very refreshing. But you need a passport to get there. No passport, no leaving the country, no vacation, nada.

The passport tells others who you are. It's got your vitals on it, at least those needed by immigration officials. Your full name, your birthplace, your date of birth, your citizenship. It's you, as far as border control is concerned. Sure, there's more to you than your passport...but if you want to travel internationally, it's the one piece of ID you can't afford to forget.

It begs the question: what symbols in our lives identify us? What forms of ID are most accurate? Is it our birth certificate showing who our parents are and when and where we were born? Is it our state driver's license? Is it the diploma on the wall, the letters behind our name, our bank balance or financial bottom line? Who ARE we--and what symbols can accurately convey that? Most importantly, are such tokens big enough, resilient enough, enduring enough? (Because if we define ourselves by our role as a parent, that will change; if it's our career, that will come to an end; if it's our possessions, those can be lost or stolen; if it's our athletic achievements, those will diminish or be surpassed by others. If it's our relational status, it's vulnerable to breakups, divorce, or death.)

For Christ-followers, our ID is found in baptism--our identification by faith with Christ's life, death, and resurrection. Paradoxically, it's only here in our burial beneath the waters, that we die to our old, false selves and are reborn to our new, true selves. This is what gives the Apostle Paul the audacity to say, "For I have been crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me" (Galatians 2:20; Romans 6:1-11 is also very good).

This identification endures the test of time and tragedy. This passport carries us to eternal life. This symbol connotes a citizenship that crosses all borders and customs. Only this identity can withstand life's challenges and changes. What's your passport say?

Glorious Dust

2011-03-09T14:01:00.007-07:00

"Thou art dust and to dust thou shalt return...but thanks be to God for the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ."

This is the traditional refrain uttered by the officiant at Ash Wednesday services around the English-speaking world. It's spoken over worshipers who come forward for the imposition of ashes at the end of the service. It's a moving moment.

It's a brutally honest moment, too. At this moment, the masks come off, our denial is disposed, our mortality and common need are revealed. Doesn't matter who you are, how much you make, or how good looking you are. Doesn't matter if you're fit or overweight; well-educated or not, living high on the hog or homeless. Doesn't matter what your skin color, the nationality of your passport, where you've been or who you know. "Thou art dust and to dust thou shalt return." Here we are--fallen humanity, by our rebellious nature estranged from God, subject to temptation and weakness, sickness and sin, aging and death. In a word, dust.

But. There's got to be a "but," doesn't there? Otherwise, there's no good news and Christianity, the gospel message, is good news, after all. So...But.

"But" means turning point, rescue, surprise. It means just when you thought it was all over, there turned out to be hope after all. "Thou art dust and to dust thou shalt return BUT thanks be to God for the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ." God in Christ has delved down deep into our dust, marched right into the midst of our pain, thrown his arms around our mortality, willingly mopped up our sin and shame. All this culminates in the cross of Good Friday and the empty tomb of Easter Sunday. Lent now is the season in which we ponder our mortality, feel our frailty, and lift up our eyes to our common hope.

Human comes from the word "humus", earth, dust. To be human is to be dust. But what glorious dust! Dust that in God's hands is capable of surprising virtue, dust that is raised and transformed by the power of Christ's resurrection, living now into a breathtaking future where death will be a distant memory. Thanks be to God!

A Theology from Parenting Teens

2011-03-01T08:52:00.003-07:00

Now that I'm parenting a teen, especially one who's driving, I get my parents. I really do. Thirty years vanishes in a flash and I see myself at 16, almost 17, and I hear my dad saying to me, "Just wait: someday you may have a teenager of your own and then, then you'll understand." I understand, Dad.

Someone once said, "Isn't it amazing how, as you grow older, your parents get smarter?" Amen. Their (often unwelcome at the time) advice now rings true. Stuff like getting a good sleep, dressing warmly, driving carefully, eating right, making good decisions. It all makes so much more sense now. But that's the wisdom of time, isn't it?

I get my parents now. I also think I get God a bit better. Like teens with their parents, our (sad) default assumption when it comes to God is that God wants to ruin our fun. Like our out-of-it middle-aged parents, God doesn't really know what's best for us. We're better at running our lives. God just sets up all these dated, arbitrary rules which make no sense and cramp our style.

But what if...

What if God is like the parents we begin to understand better as we mature? What if God's ways are the best ways, meant for our good, meant for our joy and fulfillment? What if the ways of God are time-tested wisdom for a full life? What if we just can't see all of this very well right now? Maybe, like our parents, God seems smarter as we get older.

More poignantly: in the heavy lifting of parenting, I often feel sad and lonely when my teen pulls away from me (which, I know rationally, is part of his development). I can feel misunderstood when he thinks my rules and boundaries are stupid and no fun. I wish he could know my heart and how much I love him right now. I wish he could know how deeply I want him to enjoy and savor a rich, full, healthy life--now and into the future. I wish he could know all these things right now. But he doesn't...and maybe he can't. Yet.

And then it hit me, walking through the parking lot of Whole Foods the other day: could it be that God, my heavenly Father, feels the same way towards me, towards all God's children? Misunderstood, a kill-joy, out to ruin our fun, doesn't really know us, doesn't really love us. But of course, he does. And the wisdom of time, maturity, and insight may well show us that.

Why Tolerance is Not Enough

2011-02-07T15:05:00.003-07:00

I'm loving N.T. Wright's latest book, After You Believe: Why Christian Character Matters (Harper). Wright has a definite gift for big picture thinking: he soars over the vast and varied biblical landscape with grace and ease, showing his readers a topography that is both stunning and profound, yet accessible and deeply relevant. Contrasting the Christian virtue of love with society's penchant for tolerance, Wright remarks:

"The problem with [tolerance] is clear: I can 'tolerate' you without it costing me anything very much. I can shrug my shoulders, walk away, and leave you to do your own thing. That, admittedly, is preferable to my taking you by the throat and shaking you until you agree with me. But it is certainly not love. Love affirms the reality of the other person, the other culture, the other way of life; love takes the trouble to get to know the other person or culture, finding out how he, she, or it ticks, what makes it special; and finally, love wants the best for that person or culture" (p. 254).

Love costs something. Perhaps more accurately, love costs everything. Tolerance, not nearly as much. God grant us the grace to love one another.

God in a Bottle

2011-01-31T13:41:00.009-07:00

I've just come from our church's annual weekend men's retreat where our speaker did a tremendous job. He began by challenging our inadequate views of God, very creatively showcasing the artwork of his young niece, whom he had asked to depict people's mistaken God-views. She drew pictures of God up in the clouds (the distant God), God as the fun-killer, God as Santa Claus, and many others. The point the speaker emphasized was that an inadequate view of God skews our whole life and its purposes. Home in on a truer view, at least one aligned with the Judeo-Christian Scriptures, and we will have a greater chance for an improved life--not to mention an intimate relationship with our Creator.

The speaker didn't quite get to another point in his outline, which was an acronym I recognized: MTD. MTD stands for a very prevalent God-view in our contemporary American culture. In fact, it may be the leading view of God among adults under age 60. Care to guess what it is? It's this: "Moralistic Therapeutic Deism." Here's the definition I picked up some time ago: MTD casts God as a distant creator who blesses people who are good, nice, and fair. Its central goal is to help believers be happy and feel good about themselves (from sociologist Christian Smith). What's so wrong with this?

Unfortunately, many things! One of the worst, is that it keeps us and our feelings firmly at the center of our realities. God, in this case, exists chiefly to meet our needs and buttress our self-esteem. This is God as genie, granting me wishes if I ask just right. Not much possibility of spiritual transformation here! You see, the big problem with the human race, according to my tradition, is that our original rebellion against God cast us in the role of little gods and goddesses unto ourselves. Cut off from the true God, we now worship and serve the Almighty Self. In this religion, the enhancement of our comfort, the firm establishment of our control, these are our chief life aims.

However, if I read our scriptures right, the goal of the biblical God is to pry us off this selfish center and realign us as part of a Copernican spiritual revolution: with God at the center and us in an orbit of loving worship and service to our Maker. As it turns out, one of the chief things we need to be saved from is this enslavement to ourselves. So here's a question for you: what is the default image you think people struggle with--and how does it square with the one I've just suggested?

How to Stay Young

2011-01-24T12:54:00.010-07:00

Finding myself firmly in mid-life now, I'm realizing that this stage offers us a unique perspective on youthfulness and aging. On the one hand, I'm raising adolescents at home with my wife, our heads spinning as we negotiate with our kids privileges and responsibilities, ubiquitous technology, and the onslaught of influences, good and bad. On the other hand, we're trying to be attentive to our parents, who are in their late 70s and early 80s, facing concerns unique to their stage of life. We see first-hand one generation celebrating its vigor while struggling to gain its independence; at the same time, we watch another generation gradually losing its independence with health concerns. We're young enough to remember very well the teen years and all their wonder and temptation; we're old enough (and wise enough, now) to pay attention to what our parents are going through and realize that, as life whizzes by, it won't be long til we find ourselves where they are.

This vantage point makes me want to reflect on how we might stay young--in mid-life and into our golden years. I'll start my list...but please feel free to comment and add your own suggestions.

"How to Stay Young"

1. Keep learning! Never be too old to learn new things. Don't be afraid of the computer. Take a class on how to use it; enlist a younger person to get you wired (or better wireless!) so you can surf the Internet. Read widely; listen to online lectures. Take a class at the community college. Go to adult Sunday School. Your body may be aging; but keeping yourself intellectually stimulated can stave off the effects of aging on your mind...and spirit.

2. Exercise. Make exercise (as you're physically able) a priority. Walk, swim, stretch, work on your balance. My chiropractor friend Craig says that we age according to our balance. If we can maintain and improve our balance, we can age better. Give it a try.

3. Interact with younger people. Refuse to stay cooped up in a one-generational ghetto. Mix it up with younger folk--and not just your family members (though that's a good place to start). Get to know the neighbor's kids, as well as your grandkids. Ask them to teach you about their music, their technology, their dreams. Listen well and be humble enough to let them lead you once in a while. A place of worship is a great place to meet younger people, too. If yours isn't offering intergenerational activities, help the leadership get some started!

4. Get outside. Let the beauty of creation continue to inspire you. If you can't get outside for a walk or a drive, rent a video on nature or catch a travel program on a beautiful part of the world. If you've got a computer, do a Google image search of creation and savor what you see.

5. Beware a critical spirit. Already, even in mid-life, I can see how this becomes a major temptation of old age--we criticize the younger folks, their dress, their music, their arrogance. It may all be true; but guess what? It makes us sour, like milk past its expiration date. Don't go there. Reign in your tongue and your thoughts and when it's clear the younger generations are missing the boat, pray for them instead of criticizing.

6. Invest in younger people. As a pastor in mid-life, I'm very aware that young folks are longing for mentors, older pilgrims who can impart the wisdom of their experience. Look for people in whom you can invest.

7. Worship. Don't ever lose a fascination with the divine. God is the ancient of days, but ever vital and full of life. As we praise God and kindle our enchantment with our Creator and Redeemer, we stay young. God is never boring and our minds can never fathom God's infinite wisdom. Staying connected to God plugs us into the source of life--and aging becomes relative.

8. Serve. Serve others. Even with advancing age and diminishment of physical capabilities, we can still serve others. We can make a phone call, send an email, write a letter, mail a postcard, bake some cookies, invite someone to tea or coffee, or simply pray for them. Self-absorption kills the human spirit--at any age.

9. Play. Play. Play. That's hard for me, with my Teutonic backgrond, to write--but I believe it! Seriousness ages us much too fast. Lighten up and enjoy life wherever you can. Do something just for the fun of it.

Those are just nine suggestions. Not even Ten Commandments! But enough to get us started. Help me out--what would you add for the perfect ten?

The Franchise Operation

2011-01-05T14:37:00.007-07:00

I don't know if the local McDonald's is run as a franchise or not, but if it were, I imagine it might work something like this...at a distant corporate headquarters, led by a CEO and board of directors, vision and values are set for the multinational organization. Certain standards of product quality are determined and a manual of operations is designed to guide local branches in delivering such consistency worldwide. Individual managers of local franchises are required to govern their operations by the manual. Diligent application of the manual's principles and practices is expected; and successful completion of these will lead to customer satisfaction and a profitable enterprise--not to mention positive performance evaluations and pay raises. It is assumed that faithful application of company principles will stand the manager (and employees) in good stead, especially should the CEO or board members pay them a surprise visit! Regular communication with company executives--mostly through email--is expected and meant to insure close connection and quality control. To date, no personal, on-site visits by higher-ups have occurred. But you never know. Best be diligent...and ever vigilant.

From time to time, as I've reflected on my Christian life, I've wondered if I run it much like the franchise manager of a McDonald's. I take a sober approach to Christian company policy; I try to live my life in line with the corporate manual. I try to stay in touch with headquarters by communicating prayerfully. But at the end of the day, to be honest, I wonder if I'm pretty much running things on my own--consciously or unconsciously operating at a distance from the CEO. He's more than likely too busy to show up at my franchise. But I'll try to keep things decent and in order, just in case. My job is to be diligent and dedicated, disciplined and dutiful, assiduously preparing for the annual review and ready, just in case, the CEO might show up.

What's wrong with this picture? Well, many things! First of all, it's a portrait of barren religion, concerned with practices and policies set by a distant leader. It focuses much too much on my performance--and frankly, my autonomy. Granted, these are meant to be aligned with company policy; however, in this approach, there's little dynamism, little warmth, and too little loving relationship.

Set in stark contrast is biblical Christianity in which, miracle of miracles, God in Jesus Christ promises to indwell, inhabit, and share life with, in the most intimate way possible, those who trust in him. To put it in our analogy above, the CEO becomes our most cherished friend who lives within us moment by moment, sharing our lives and directing our activities. The new life and its practices come not by our diligent application of company policies set in some manual; rather, they flow from a love for the friend who lives within, the friend who is also our Lord and God. And the interesting thing is that the life we live as a result, aligns perfectly with the policies we read about earlier!

Christianity as franchise operation is barren religion, an insipid substitute for the dynamic vital union with God given in Jesus Christ. God grant us the grace to avoid this all too common fast food!

Amusing Ourselves to Death?

2010-12-21T10:48:00.003-07:00

Several years ago I skim-read a book by Neil Postman provocatively entitled Amusing Ourselves to Death. It described the influence of television culture on public discourse, showing how it shortened attention spans and created a popular demand to be incessantly entertained. Now, with both thumbs firmly engaged in the Internet age, it strikes me that this book's thesis and particularly its title are prophetic.

Think of it: Postman wrote before the advent of reality TV, which has blurred the line between entertainment and the entertained. We now watch "people just like us" on TV, subjected to all sorts of humiliating situations. "American Idol" certainly leads the charge--and MTV's "Jersey Shore" plumbs the depths--of such reputed entertainment. I've also noticed that reality TV has extended many people's 15 minutes of fame. Now, questionable "entertainers" like Snooky (what a name!) become household names, while persons with limited or no talent at all (Paris Hilton comes to mind) become pop icons.

But think of this, too: Postman also wrote before the advent of the Internet, texting, and smart phones with multiple apps. We now have the capability of plugging into entertainment (if it can be called that) 24/7. Our noses buried in screens, we grow addicted to pixellated stimulation and many of us find ourselves rushing to check scores, emails, tweets, Facebook live feed, news and much else whenever we feel a hint of boredom or the need to unwind. And whatever other discretionary time we have is whiled away with such gripping games as "Angry Birds".

My fear, and the fear voiced by an increasing chorus of the concerned, is that we're now raising a generation of people who will never know the joy of a good book by a fireplace...or a quiet walk in the woods...or the focused discipline of writing an actual letter...or the joy of getting a thoughtful letter from a loved one...or even the sustained sharpening of a spirited debate with a friend. Thanks to our ubiquitous technology our information base grows wider by the second...but are we becoming shallower at the same rate? I wonder and I worry, to be honest. Especially as I share in the raising of my two sons.

I like my iPhone as much as the next person. But I've also enjoyed re-reading a series of novels lately. It's wonderfully relaxing to find my mind engaged and entertained at the same time--in a way that digital technology has yet to do. I'd be interested in your thoughts? Am I terribly old-school?

Zeroing the Torque

2010-12-06T18:33:00.007-07:00

Recently, I purchased a power meter. "What's that?" you say? It's the gold standard training tool for cyclists. It measures in watts the direct output of power applied to the pedals (in this case, through the pedals to the rear hub). "Watts don't lie", is the adage I've heard in cycling circles. Your heart rate, your average speed--metrics like these change based on terrain, fatigue, headwind, temperature, etc. But watts? Watts don't lie. You're either applying a certain level of force to the pedals or not. Now stay with me, non-cyclists. There's practical relevance yet to come...

I don't know about you, but I tend to learn through my mistakes, especially with technology. I drained the battery to my computer head unit for my power meter by leaving it too long in the download cradle. Dead battery. Needed replacement. Check. But what I didn't realize is that every time you replace a battery and freshly pair the head unit with the rear hub power transmitter, you must "zero the torque." How did I know that I needed to do this? Well, one clue was that on a recent ride I was still getting a power readout...while I was coasting downhill. Bad sign! What was worse, however, was what this meant.

It meant that my studly ride earlier that week, the one where I broke all my former records of power output, the one where I was thumping my chest and elaborating on my middleaged fitness to my adoring wife...was suspect. Skewed. Exaggerated. That's tough to take as a middle-aged cyclist. All my numbers were inflated. My performance was not nearly as tremendous as I thought. Probably pretty commonplace. I had to zero the torque.

It's a simple task, really. I found instructions online and it's recommended that this zeroing occur weekly. It insures that your power meter gives an accurate reading--and that you're given no freebie watts (which inflate your ego, to say the least).

Today, I noticed to my great humility that my numbers were significantly lower. Not nearly as studly as I had imagined them to be. Sigh.

"Zeroing the torque"--it recalibrates us to reality and gives us honest feedback based on a higher, objective standard. It occurs to me that this is what happens when we relate to the God of the Bible. For measured against ourselves or even our peers, we may feel that we're doing quite well morally and ethically (thank you very much!). However, this is not the ultimate standard we're given to use in measuring ourselves. The gold standard is God's: perfection, holiness, complete selfless love. This was God's original design for the people God made. How short we've fallen! God, it turns out, requires of us the fulfillment of this original standard, which, left to ourselves is impossible. God, however, offers the perfect fulfillment of these requirements in the obedience of his Son, whose sinless life, sacrificial death, and glorious resurrection allow all who will trust in him to measure up--and, so to speak, hit the numbers.

I guess as humbling as it is, I'd rather measure myself against reality than delude myself in thinking I'm fitter--or even more moral--than I really am. Ultimately, I have this confidence because I live in a reality governed by a good and gracious, albeit holy, God. "Zero the torque"--it's the way to relate to reality...and to become more healthy in the process.

Grace and the High Bar

2010-11-15T12:13:00.005-07:00

At least once a year I teach a segment of our church's new members' class. I enjoy this because it allows me to speak directly to the substance of our faith, the key matters of Christian belief and practice that constitute the heart of who we are. The primary concept I try to share with people is the subject of grace. In my opinion, grace is one of the most beautiful words in the Bible. I use the letters of the word to form an acronym: God's Riches At Christ's Expense. It's what one preacher called, "surprise gift love." Grace is that gift we don't expect or deserve, that free gift from God that welcomes us home to God's arms, the broken, needy, messed up people we all are inside--each of us now get a chance to be embraced and restored, freely and without charge. As one writer put it, it's the "alley, alley all come free" in our grand hide-and-seek with God. You get to come home; you're safe--and you don't have to pay for it or earn it in any way. All you do is receive it in faith and trust.

Too many of us think of salvation, eternal life, or even forgiveness as a pole-vault. God's bar is set high morally and ethically and we do our utmost to clear it in a spectacular effort of earnest endeavor. Work hard, try your best, do unto others--and hope you can clear this divinely appointed hurdle. Salvation as pole vault. Wrong.

Salvation, I like to say, is not a pole vault, it's a limbo bar. God doesn't require a spectacular feat of moral athleticism in order to clear his high bar. The bar is rather a limbo bar, set low, so low in fact that only the humble, only the broken, only the needy, the messed-up, the low performers need apply. It's in humility, in lowliness, in the admission of our need and unworthiness that we come to God and find in God our gracious welcome. The bar has been cleared; not by us, but by God in Christ, who's fulfilled all the moral demands and met all the high requirements.

True, our humble homecoming is only the beginning. Made new in Christ from within by a rebirth in the Holy Spirit, we can now begin to live new lives, lives guided by God's truth revealed in the Bible, lives strengthened by Christ's indwelling presence, lives nurtured in the community of the baptized who walk in such newness. Equipped, empowered, emboldened, we now strive by God's continuing grace to live lives which attain a higher mark of love, integrity, and moral congruence. The bar can now be set much higher, but we approach it so differently: with the deep awareness that it's only in the power of Christ that we can even come close to clearing it.

It's at this point that we can begin to consider Jesus' famous "Sermon on the Mount", my current class topic and a subject for a future post!

Things I'm Learning, Part 1

2010-10-18T13:17:00.003-06:00

Yes, I'm still alive. No, I haven't dropped off the face of the earth. No, I didn't love my sabbatical SO much that I chose to make it permanent. (That's retirement, not sabbatical.) For my silence, I can only plead busyness and the start up of fall responsibilities. Oh yes, and ramping up for a teenage son getting his driver's license THIS WEEK. Suffice it to say, I'm back and hoping to write more regularly.

Which brings me to today's subject: "Things I'm Learning, Part 1." Hopefully, the first in an occasional series. Today I'm starting off with the problem of Christian moralism. During my sabbatical, Dr. John Coe's lectures on spiritual formation alerted me to this insidious disease facing Christians. In a nutshell, it is this: Christians, having been saved by God's grace through their faith in Jesus' death and resurrection for their sins, now, sadly, go on to live out their Christian lives in the power of their own strength.

A shorthand for this might go: "Saved by grace, sanctified (made more like Christ in actual living) by works." See the problem? When we do this, we trivialize the crisis from which God has rescued us in Christ. At the beginning of our Christian lives, we've acknowledged that we needed God's help in rescuing us from a life of sinful self-centeredness; now, however, after receiving this life by God's grace, we've gone back to our own resources in order to grow in this life. A clear sign of this is self-reliance ("Tell me what I need to know/do/not do to be a good Christian!"), frustration and self-condemnation when we fail ("Darn, I blew it again!"), and earnest vows to improve ourselves in the future ("I must try harder next time!").

Christian moralism is so prevalent in the Church and in our lives that we may not even notice it (and, worse, we may not even think it's a problem to begin with). But here's the rub: if we really believe that only God can save us, do we still think we ourselves have the capacity, in our own strength, to live out the new life to which he's called us? If so, we either have a grossly distorted view of our own moral capacity (and a pretty unrealistic view of our sin) and/or we kid ourselves into thinking we're already so perfected in our new life as Christians we can straightforwardly live out what God requires. Either way, we set ourselves up for failure and frustration.

So what's the way forward? Despair--that we can ever live as Christ commands? That's too high a view of our sin and too low a view of his empowering presence. Hypocrisy--that we say we agree with his commands but make little attempt to live them out because we know we can't? Neither of these work. The way forward, according to Coe (and, really, the Bible, especially the Apostle Paul) is to fully embrace in faith our status as God's new people by virtue of Christ's work on the cross. At our core identity, we bank on the fact that we are new, despite evidence to the contrary. We consider ourselves in the Latin of Martin Luther, "Simul iustus, et peccator" (simultaneously justified and yet a sinner). This is now our spiritual DNA, our true legacy, our deepest identity.

Following Jesus, then, means becoming practically who we are already are spiritually. We do this, as the Apostle Paul puts it, by keeping in step with the Holy Spirit (Galatians 5:16-26). The way forward into newness, holiness, or Christlikeness, is by allowing that quiet Spirit who now indwells us to govern and guide our daily activities. It's as though we keep a constant dialogue open, developing the capacity to discern what the Spirit says moment by moment. This requires several things: an awareness of the truth that Spirit has already inspired in the writings of Scripture (Bible study); a willingness to lay down our autonomy and be led (the surrender of the will, perhaps the most difficult thing); and a slower pace of life, so that we may have room to respond thoughtfully to God (an equally difficult thing for many of us). A by-product of these is a humility and dependence on God's grace when we fail (which we will, repeatedly).

So to sum it up, being a Christian doesn't mean that we work harder at trying to be good. Rather, it means that having surrendered our attempts to be good, we trust in Christ's goodness on our behalf (the cross), and we seek to follow him moment by moment by keeping in step with his Spirit. So beware of "Ten Point" programs which are a disguised form of self-help. And, for the heady ones among us, don't confuse information with transformation (as important as Christian knowledge may be, it's only one component of spiritual growth and lasting change).

Feeling Small

2010-09-07T15:39:00.003-06:00

Three experiences recently have left me "feeling small." By this I mean they've reminded me that I'm not master of my destiny, the head honcho, or the big cheese (not that I struggle overmuch with these misconceptions, but the gravity of our fallenness does tend in this direction, does it not?).

The first experience was last weekend as once again our neighborhood welcomed to its skies the planes of the local airshow. I was delighted and awed (as were many) by the F-18 and F-16 fighters as they maneuvered above us. Their sheer, screaming power as they soared in grace and beauty, their turns arcing precisely, these moved me deeply. Why? I've come to wonder if it is a foretaste of glory, a tiny sip of what it will mean for me one day be engulfed in awe of God, the One who is sheer power, grace, and beauty, awesome, overwhelming, and yet, irresistibly attractive. I felt small. But it was a good small.

The second experience was riding bikes yesterday with a friend up Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park. In the best of situations, this ride is a challenge (it tops out at over 12,000', rising up close to 5,000' from the floor of Estes Park); but yesterday it was epic and potentially life-threatening. As we rode up in temperatures just below 50 degrees, the wind increased, so much so that when we rose above treeline to 11,000 feet, the wind speeds, we estimated, were close to 60mph. Try riding a bike in that! Wisely, we turned around. But try descending 17 miles in winds and wind chills like those! We had to stop repeatedly. We walked our bikes in portions (so as not to be blown off the road) and we dangerously edged close to hypothermia. Down at the bottom, taking refuge in the visitor center, we were shaking uncontrollably and deeply grateful to be back down safely (not to mention alive). Very scary time. We felt small in the face of nature's power. But, ultimately, it was a good small, in that we were reminded of our essential reliance on God's grace and protection in all things.

The third experience is the Four Mile Canyon fire still raging just a few miles to the northwest of the church. Over 7000 acres have burned since yesterday morning. Over 3,000 people have been evacuated. To date, at least 63 structures, including homes, have burned. Church families are affected and our community is on edge. Slurry bombers roar overhead to drop fire retardant on the blaze. It's a scary time for so many. I/we feel small and vulnerable in the face of winds, fire, and life's unpredictability.

It's not always bad to feel small, especially if it leads us to depend more fully and consistently on the One who is big. I'm so grateful that in this One's hands, we are secure and that nothing can separate us from his love (Romans 8:38-39).

Keeping the Focus

2010-08-26T12:02:00.007-06:00

My three month sabbatical is over. I've now been back to my work as pastor for ten days. In just about all respects, it's good to be back. It's fun to catch up with people and hear what they're doing. It's great to be back in downtown Boulder and soak up all the activity and energy, especially with the CU students starting their school year.

What I'm finding hard about readjusting, however, is finding practical ways to live out of that centered place I discovered in my time of rest. Now, with to-dos, juggling schedules, engaging people, managing calendars, doing advance planning, attending meetings--these things clamor for attention and fill the formerly quiet place. The question for me--and maybe for you, too-- is how to preserve the center, how to amidst it all, recall God's voice saying "be still and know that I am God" (Ps. 46:10).

Certainly, the spiritual disciplines are essential. They push back the other voices, at least for a time. They ground me in that which is permanent and life-giving. For me, one practice that's helpful right now is the Prayer of Recollection. I discovered it this summer in my study of spiritual formation. Apparently, the early Christians, prior to hearing the Word of God in public worship, "recollected" their true selves by rehearsing together who they were in Christ. It was a time to resist false idols and false identities and to lay claim to their core identity as beloved in Christ. I've developed a sample prayer below that you can copy and paste into your word processor to fill out and personalize. Regularly recollecting myself with my own version of this prayer is helping me touch base with my core identity in Jesus. It's allowing me, at least somewhat, to keep the focus. I hope it's helpful to you, as well.

A Prayer of Recollection

(A basis for this can be found in Philippians 3:7-9.)

Father in Heaven, in faith I affirm today:

•That at my core, I am not:__________________________________________________

_________________________________________________________________________.

(list any relational roles you play, such as: a father, mother, son, daughter, wife, husband, friend, etc);

•That at my core, I am not: __________________________________________________

_________________________________________________________________________.

(list a vocation you might have, such as: a caregiver, accountant, teacher, attorney, nurse, doctor, manager, boss, employee, entrepreneur, pastor, businessperson, student, volunteer, etc);

•That at my core, I do not need:______________________________________________.

_________________________________________________________________________.

(list a phrase that speaks to your temptation: people to like me, people’s approval, to be successful, to make a lot of money, to control my life and circumstances, to look good, to be attractive, etc);

• But in faith, I remember that:

I am under no condemnation (Romans 8:1)

I am a new creation in Christ (2Corinthians 5:17)

I am free in Christ (Romans 8:2; Galatians 5:1)

I am a beloved child of God (Romans 8:14-16; 1John 3:1)

I am completely secure in Christ’s love (Romans 8:35-39).

Amen.

Sabbatical Sunset

2010-08-12T17:36:00.005-06:00

As my three month sabbatical comes to a close, I'm actively preparing to return to my work as pastor. Right now this means trying to crystallize in my mind the lessons I've learned during this time away. I'm hoping this will give me perspective personally and focus my sharing with others some of the benefits of being away. (I'll have the privilege of developing these thoughts with our congregation when I preach August 29.)

In short, it's been a refreshing time. If author Eugene Peterson is correct in his summary of the two sabbath commandment texts (in Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5), then the fourth commandment calls us to both "praying" and "playing." Sabbath-keeping and sabbatical call us to unplug from the often draining routines of our work and tap into the underlying rhythms of rest that God has hard-wired into creation. In sabbath rest, we reflect on God and seek to more purposely relate to him (praying); we also let down our hair (or what's left of it!) and play with abandon, giving thanks for this good gift.

This sabbatical has been a great time for playing. Travel out of state and out of country have been wonderful highlights. I've renewed friendships with pastor buddies and high school pals. I've seen all my old groomsmen. I've sampled tastes of Italy with my family. I've ridden my bike up some pretty cool climbs in California, Arizona, and Colorado. I've pedaled the rolling forests of Wisconsin's Northwoods. I've gone on some great runs. I've spent some time in the kitchen cooking. I've eaten good food and enjoyed delicious beverages. I've golfed pretty regularly with my wife and sons. Life has been good. Playing has been restorative.

Praying's been part of the picture, too. Times formal and informal. Times at home and away. A highlight for me was a couple day trip up to Highlands Camp, a Presbyterian retreat and conference center in nearby Allenspark, CO (www.highlandscamp.org). What a lovely place tended by dedicated people who graciously assist others to draw near to God. And it doesn't hurt that the camp is nestled at the foot of the Mt. Meeker-Longs Peak base! If there's been a consistent theme in my time with God this sabbatical, it's been the renewed invitation to bring my true self, warts and all, to God, trusting in his love and grace and allowing his Spirit to direct me. A very basic message, to be sure. I've been reminded that God first and foremost wants my heart, not my service or even my obedience. With my heart more fully his, the rest will naturally follow.

My reading has focused on the early Church and on contemplative prayer and spirituality. In addition, I've just wrapped up a very helpful (and challenging!) online course by Dr. John Coe of the Talbot School of Theology. It's served as a beacon for me personally and it may be very helpful in the ministry of Spiritual Formation and Discipleship I'm privileged to lead. Check out the course if you're so inclined. It's free. http://tinyurl.com/2ax3prn

Well, the time to return is almost here. I think I'm ready. Fall's in the air and the family is ramping up their routines. It's been a good sabbatical and a great gift to me and to our family as well. I'm very grateful to our generous congregation. Thanks for reading.

Can You "Forgive and Forget" in an Internet Age?

2010-07-26T15:11:00.007-06:00

One of the most e-mailed New York Times articles right now is a sobering piece by Jeffrey Rosen, a George Washington University Law professor. It's entitled "The Web Means the End of Forgetting" (http://tinyurl.com/26qngre). For any of us who've ever done something we regret, especially for those who've either posted compromising photos online or been the victims of unwanted Internet exposure, this article shows just how hard it is to remove the digital stain of our failings.

Rosen writes: "The fact that the Internet never seems to forget is threatening, at an almost existential level, our ability to control our identities; to preserve the option of reinventing ourselves and starting anew; to overcome our checkered pasts."

He continues: "the permanent memory bank of the Web increasingly means there are no second chances — no opportunities to escape a scarlet letter in your digital past. Now the worst thing you’ve done is often the first thing everyone knows about you."

Screwing up was painful enough before the Internet. Now, if someone (or you yourself) should upload something incriminating against you, it may haunt you for life. This gives pause to everyone, especially parents shepherding their digitally-native offspring through the online world. What does it mean to find forgiveness, when our failings are so hard to erase and so easy to access? Oddly enough, this brave new world may make genuine integrity even harder to come by as people may just find better ways to hide their shame (in fact, as the article points out, there are now web-based companies whose mission it is to help restore people's reputations by finding ways to hide or cover their incriminating behavior on the web).

Rosen draws our attention to a recent book by the cyberscholar Viktor Mayer-Schönberger, “Delete: The Virtue of Forgetting in the Digital Age.” Mayer-Schönberger notes that a society in which everything is recorded “will forever tether us to all our past actions, making it impossible, in practice, to escape them.” He concludes that “without some form of forgetting, forgiving becomes a difficult undertaking.”

How grateful I am that our God has a backspace button! The Internet may never forget our sins, but God graciously erases them through the sacrificial death of his Son, Jesus Christ. Incriminating images, compromising photos, embarrassing texts--all deleted from God's memory! "If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed! (2Corinthians 5:17). Friends, believe the Good News!

Developing Good Taste

2010-07-08T12:32:00.003-06:00

"Taste and see that the LORD is good"

Psalm 34:8

I'm learning to make my own salad dressings these days. Fresh, simple ingredients--olive oil, balsamic vinegar, crushed garlic, Dijon mustard, honey, shallots, etc--are easy to come by, inexpensive, and far tastier than the stuff at the store. These natural flavors are transforming my palate and I'm losing my desire for commercial dressings. It's a change of taste.

Coffee, of course, is another area where taste and freshness, proper measurement and natural ingredients create a flavor that most cafes can't challenge. Once you get used to one of my cappuccinos, you'll think twice about visiting that big coffee chain!

It takes a while to train our palates, doesn't it? It's quicker and easier, we think, to go for the store-bought stuff, or whip through the drive-thru. But we compromise ourselves. Too often, efficiency trumps enjoyment. Maybe we need to slow down. Go old-school for a while. Take our time.

It's that way with God. Too often we're satisfied with God-substitutes. Quick fixes, God-on-our-own terms, God-in-our-own-image. Our God becomes too much like the drive thru: a faceless presence into which we speak our order and expect our outcome--lickety-split.

How, then, do we retrain our palates? How do we develop our taste for God? A couple thoughts come to mind, things which this preacher's trying to practice:

Get out in nature. Go for a walk. Observe flowers, trees, clouds, birds, mountains. Let the slower rhythms recalibrate your rushed spirit. Savor. Give thanks.

Eat healthier...and more slowly. Enjoy the bounty before you. I tend to do that with steel cut oatmeal. Making it and eating it slows me down. Knowing that it's lowering my cholesterol naturally makes me grateful. Spend a little more for quality, local ingredients.

Meditate. Take a brief section of Scripture and read it slowly, several times. This morning I found Romans 8:26 wonderful: "The Spirit helps us in our weakness." Allow the import of the passage to sink in to your soul. Too often we think quantity (a book or chapter of the Bible) is better than quality. Go brief but deep for a season.

Fast. This is something I find personally difficult and often elusive. But nothing gives us more of an appreciation for God's good gifts than temporarily forsaking them. Give up a meal or dessert or TV for a night and see what happens, what it does for you.

Be patient. Changing our palates takes time. What do they say--it takes several weeks to form new habits? (Somewhere I heard that Lent's 40 days are perfect to teach us new patterns, but why wait 'til then?). Good stuff takes time--in the kitchen, on our plates, in our lives.

I'll bet that once we develop a taste for the genuine article, the old things won't satisfy nearly as much.

The Wisdom of Ristretto

2010-06-18T08:58:00.003-06:00

Our recent vacation in Italy reminded me of how the Europeans--in comparison to us Americans--tend to live "smaller." Now, by "smaller" I'm speaking merely volume-wise: their cars and roads are smaller, so too are their living spaces, appliances, and meal-portions. Even their coffee! How often did I frequent Italian coffee bars and order a "coffee", knowing full well that what I'd receive was a single shot of espresso, a concentrated dose of sheer coffee goodness called a "ristretto". This was no giant mug o' coffee, American style, but a taste of pure roasted loveliness. Quality--lovely, wonderful, tantalizingly tiny--quality; not quantity.

In America, with its giant expanses (fly over portions of the West and you're still stunned by the immensity of our land), its citizenly corpulence, its buy-one-get-one-free mentality, and, above all, its super-sizing of food and drink, you realize how much the bigger-is-better mindset rules. If something's good in and of itself, it can only be better in greater volume, right? Right?! Or if something's average, just give me twice as much and it will get better, right? Right?!

The Europeans' take on pleasure doesn't seem to run along these lines. There's still a respectful restraint, a quality of life, a "dolce vita" that doesn't demand super-sizing in order to be fulfilling. It's wonderful and challenging, for this American, at least, to take to heart. And, interestingly enough, this European respect for smallness reminds me of much biblical teaching on gluttony. Proverbs' wisdom warns against indiscriminate socializing with those who know no restraint in their eating and drinking habits. Presumably, those who do not have these appetites under control will lack self-discipline in other areas as well.

It's been interesting to me to see the devolution of "sin" language in our secular culture. Too often such language limits itself in popular parlance to desserts: "sinfully delicious" or "temptingly rich." But there's a vestige of wisdom and biblical morality here: over-the-top indulgence in rich foods is a form of gluttony, one of the classic seven deadly sins. What's needed is proper restraint, a "ristretto" approach to life that values God's good gifts in moderation, gives thanks for tastes of life's goodness without a need to super-size them.

I'll close with a story from C.S. Lewis' adult science fiction novel, Perelandra. The protagonist space traveler, Ransom, lands on Venus and samples the most amazing indigenous fruit, which is so luscious it defies description. Lewis writes:

"As [Ransom] let the empty gourd fall from his hand and was about to pluck a second one, it came into his head that he was now neither hungry nor thirsty. And yet to repeat a pleasure so intense and almost so spiritual seemed an obvious thing to do. His reason, or what we commonly take to be reason in our own world, was all in favor of tasting the miracle again...all seemed to commend the action. Yet something seemed opposed to this 'reason'. It is difficult to suppose that this opposition came from desire, for what desire would turn from so much deliciousness? But for whatever cause, it appeared to him better not to taste again. Perhaps the experience had been so complete that repetition would be a vulgarity--like asking to hear the same symphony twice in a day."

Travel in Europe and Lewis' Perelandra remind us of the wisdom of restraint, of biblical contentment. Yes, we're meant to enjoy God's good gifts, but in moderation. "Ristretto" is a word not just for espresso, but for life. You see, sometimes less is better.

Some Flavors From "A Taste of Italy"

2010-06-13T07:30:00.007-06:00

Last night, my family and I returned from 10 days in Italy. It was a great trip--we made all our connections on time, had good weather, stayed healthy, and managed to end the trip still liking each other. We're thankful. Now, while the thoughts and impressions are fresh, I'd like to share them with you. Consider this your own little taste of what we enjoyed. Italy for us was a flavorful buffet, a feast of experiences to whet the appetite for more extensive indulgence at another time.

I find foreign travel to be stretching: it introduces new rhythms and it expands our views of the world, ourselves, and God. Pulling us out of our comfortable, familiar routines, travel abroad requires us to trust God in ways we might not while home. Having said that, it isn't always easy and it's not necessarily convenient. But for us, it was well worth it.

Getting off the plane in Rome, hearing the melodic lilt of Italian, puzzling through the unfamiliar signs and advertisements, all of it induced the thought: "It's good to be overseas again." I'll spare you the travelogue. But here are some quick tastes for your sampling...

Touring Italy, much like my recent trip to Sonoma County in California, epitomized the divine-human harmony of good stewardship of the land. You observe how carefully the Tuscans cultivate their olive orchards and vineyards and it's clear they respect and rely upon their rich, fertile soil.

Rome's modernity competes with its history. Traffic surges around the ancient city's Forum, Colosseum, and Pantheon (the only building on earth used continuously for over 2000 years). Wherever one turns, Rome reveals layers of proud history, reminding us how fleeting is our pursuit of power and fame. Ancient Caesar's glory is modern Roman rubble.

More than once I was reminded of the faithfulness and courage of early Christians. A prominent cross stands at one of the entrances to the Colosseum floor, recalling martyrs who gave their lives for Christ in the sadistic Roman "games." We visited the Church of St. Peter in Chains and saw the handcuffs used to lead the Apostle to his execution. We were also humbled by the symbol of the way he was killed (the upside-down cross).

"La Dolce Vita", the sweet life, is so much a part of Italy. We sampled and savored good food, learned to linger longer over our meals, drank surprisingly consistent (and cheap!) espressos and cappuccini (plural, you know). The Italians appreciate quality, if not quantity (no super-sizing here!). Fashion and style were everywhere (challenging us to take just a little more care in the way we present ourselves). A few examples of our compatriots' cultural insensitivity recalled to us the importance of being a good ambassador abroad--for our country, certainly, but also for Christ's kingdom. And, coming from a land of increasing cultural homogeneity, Italy's regional differences impressed us.

What sites will stay with us? Michelangelo's David in the Florence Accademia we found surprisingly moving. The great sculptor captured the beauty, strength, and vulnerability not only of the human body, but also of young David preparing to battle Goliath. David's knit brow, the veins on his arm, even his extended lower torso (inhaling as he readies for the fight?) were utterly captivating--and all in marble. If "man is the measure"--the slogan of the Renaissance which inspired Michelangelo's work--it's nevertheless man's Creator who gets the credit for the beautiful crafting of our human bodies.

We spent a day traveling to Naples and Pompeii, where we saw the dramatic destruction of an entire first century town by the eruption of Vesuvius (still active and potentially menacing). While it was fascinating to walk the streets of the city, I was struck by the scale of the tragedy (a whole town and its inhabitants buried by ash mixed with rain, paralyzed in the positions in which they perished).

We spent the last few days in Venice, which is predictably romantic and surprisingly smelly. As travel guru Rick Steves observes, Venice faces a modern dilemma: its island isolation (there are no cars of any kind) makes it cost prohibitive for locals to live. It's a city slowly sinking into the mud and facing constant need for renovation and modernization. Will Venice become a tourist's Disneyland, Steves wonders?

Finally, one aha for me was learning that the form of the cross-shaped Christian basilica was based on the prior pagan architecture of the most prominent building in town, where magistrates gathered to hear cases and convene meetings. This goes to show you that the church has been interacting with secular culture since its beginning, interweaving its own values with cultural forms and styles familiar to the people of its day.

A postscript: gelato. I had no idea it was this good in Italy--nor did my family. The finest is in Florence, with one highlight for me being fresh peach, with bits of peach suspended in the creamy mix. Bravissimo!

The Hard Work of Rest

2010-05-26T19:40:00.002-06:00

I'm almost two weeks into my sabbatical--and it's been good so far. Busy, yes, but good. My trip to California went well, with renewed friendships certainly the highlight. Both pastor friends I spent time with are faithfully pursuing their calls as husbands, fathers, and shepherds. I'm grateful for their witness to Jesus, for their steadfastness, and for their bike handling skills on tight turns.

Sonoma County continues to move me. What a wonderful illustration of God's good creation and faithful human stewardship. The neat rows of vineyards coursing up and down the hills shows a divine and human partnership that is harmonious and mutually respectful.

As I delve a bit deeper into this time of rest, I'm realizing how easy it is to try to stay busy. How much we rely on our rhythms of work to bring order and predictability to our lives. And how tempting it is to gain our identity and self-worth from our routines and roles! To unplug and rest means giving up a bit of control. It necessitates waiting on God and allowing room for surprise in our lives. It's that old "Space for God" focus of a book that was popular for many of us in seminary. It's kind of a "change-up" pitch that is disrupting...and, I suspect, wonderfully so. I'm having to adjust to these new rhythms and sometimes it's work! Next week we're off to Italy. I'm studying up on it...and wondering how their cappuccinos will compare to mine...

"Shabbat Shalom!"

2010-05-10T13:20:00.004-06:00

One of the blessed things about the Internet is that it gives us access to information 24/7. And one of the cursed things about the Internet (or at least the way we're tempted to use it) is that it gives us access to information 24/7. We so easily awake and check the news online, using our smartphones or computers. The next thing we know, the day's pace and focus have been set by our email inboxes, our text messages, our customized news feeds, etc. All this is great for quick access to information, but the stimulus of constant news, not to mention the flickering pixels assaulting our senses, can tire us out and make us grumpy. Sometimes we need to unplug. Can I get an "amen"?

Today's lectionary reading (a daily dose of Bible readings I follow somewhat religiously...) included Leviticus 25, which details God's command for--get this--the land itself to get a rest every seventh year. Yes, the land too needs a rest, not just those who till, sow, and reap it. God graciously provides rest for people and creation in a rhythm God instituted at the very beginning. Remember the Genesis account? Even almighty God rested after creation! Just because we have the means for going 24/7, doesn't mean we should go 24/7, does it? We each need to observe a rhythm of work and rest and do so freely and joyously. One day in seven is for rest, the Bible says. Even though Jesus has freed us from the more rigorous sabbath observations of his time (by saying famously, "The Sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath"), Jesus hasn't made such wise living obsolete. No, he's likely focused it even more intently. We need to find regular ways to unplug, to rest, recover, renew, refresh.

I'll be doing this very intentionally and very soon. At the end of this week, I begin a three-month sabbatical. For three marvelous months, I'm unplugging as pastor. The mantle's coming off. The church and its leadership generously encourage us, after seven years (and in my case, close to eight), to enjoy this period of refreshment. What will I do, as I'm doing nothing, you ask? Well, I hope to engage in some of the "r's" listed above, but I will add to them some more specifics: relax, read, ride (as in my bike), and 'rite (as in this blog). There will also be some "bucket list" items to knock off, some fabled climbs to ride, some old friendships to renew, and a trip to Italy to take (Eyjafjallajokull permitting). I'm excited for this time and very grateful to First Presbyterian Church of Boulder for making it possible. I'll hope to be in touch with some Sabbatical musings along the way. Some will be Twitter updates, others blog posts. So stay tuned. And as my Jewish friends say, "Shabbat shalom!"

Honesty Pays!

2010-04-19T13:41:00.005-06:00

Flipping through the cable channels Sunday afternoon, I caught the last moments of the playoff between PGA pros Jim Furyk and Brian Davis at the Verizon Heritage tournament in Hilton Head, SC (See it on YouTube at http://tinyurl.com/y5zwkns). Davis apparently hit an approach shot that ended up in a marshy hazard surrounded by boulders just below the green. I said to my wife, "You gotta watch this." It was an impossible shot. He'd have to chop through the weeds into damp sand, loft the ball up and over the boulders and land it onto the green. Most of us would've missed the ball entirely or ricocheted it off the rocks. Not Davis. After much careful planning, he hit the shot, gently deposited it onto the green, and remained in contention. Then the strangest thing happened. He called a course official over and confessed to the possibility that, during his backswing, his club might've grazed a reed. If so, that's against the Rules of Golf, and it would merit a penalty, costing him the tournament. Yet he still reported himself. Within one second of making the shot. The infraction was real, but only viewable by TV slow-motion replay. It would've been so, so very easy for Davis not to have said anything. The shot was tough enough, after all. But he did report it, and in doing so, Davis showed us something well beyond the game of golf. Englishman Brian Davis gave golf something to celebrate in its post-scandal Tiger Woods funk. In that split-second decision, Davis got second place place and lost $409,000. Just in that infinitesimal grazing of a reed. But in that moment Davis gained so much more than money. To onlookers everywhere, he showed the enduring worth of honesty. It was an amazing, redemptive moment in sports. It was quiet, but its message was clear: In a world so often motivated by winning and winnings, Davis showed us something money can't buy. Integrity.

The challenge for the rest of us? If we were in Davis's golf shoes, what would we have done?!

The Gospel According to Google?

2010-04-07T14:02:00.004-06:00

I recently read a book about the founding of Google. Their goal, I learned, is to provide access to information freely and universally. It's Google's quest, their mission, their driving passion. They're doing quite well at this, too: Google's given us fast, intuitive search engines, free email, Google Earth, Google Maps, YouTube, free document storage, free applications, Google Reader, Google Scholar, Google Shopping--etc, etc, etc. It's pretty amazing, really. And all of this undergirded by their motto, "Don't be evil."

Reading the book, I couldn't shake the biblical image of humankind's impressive construction of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11). This was another bold assertion of god-like technologies over human surroundings, leveraging creativity and culture to unify humankind and to reach upward to the heavens. However, the project was doomed from the beginning: humankind's penchant for sin and evil corrupted their designs, making them drip with destructive potential. The text tells us God graciously confounded their speech and stopped their hubristic aspirations.

The takeaway for me?

Whether it's the advanced attempts of Babel or Google, such reliance on technology to perfect, unify, or otherwise save humankind is doomed to fail. We can't jump over our shadows, no matter how sophisticated our techniques. And, while it's intoxicating to see how fast and universally we can access information, we need to ask ourselves: is such abundant information actually making us better people? Can more information really improve us? I thought we all awoke last century from the liberal Enlightenment dream that such "progress" could perfect us. Such giddy optimism was choked by mustard gas and trench warfare, two world wars and a holocaust, genocide and the possibility of nuclear Armaggedon. Technology and progress are very alluring; it's easy to become intoxicated by advancement and innovation. Beware.

Don't get me wrong: instant access to information is great. I love it. I really do. My growing gaggle of iPhone apps proves it. But I'm not going to buy the lie that universal access to information will in any way improve us morally. It might actually make us worse. More informed, but more arrogant. More powerful, but not a whit more compassionate.

Timeless values of loving relationship, face-to-face quality time, forgiveness, patience, long-suffering, grace--these are what will ultimately transform and improve us as people. These can't be souped-up or supercharged. They're not fast or optimized for efficiency. They're often slow and frustratingly painful. In the end, it's intimacy, not information, that wins the day. It's the intimate knowledge of God's grace in Christ, not the informational knowledge of Google's facts on the Web, that transforms us.

What Good is Suffering?

2010-04-01T13:50:00.005-06:00

I just finished teaching a five-week adult class entitled "Making Sense of Suffering" (http://tinyurl.com/ygyka5z). It wasn't an easy class to prepare for, let alone teach. If you're like me, you'd just as soon not focus on suffering. You'd prefer to deny it, avoid it, or otherwise postpone it. Teaching the class made me realize that suffering is universally relevant: far from being esoteric or academic or theoretical, suffering is a very real and painful part of everyone's life. It has immediate application to each person, regardless of their background, belief, or lack thereof. People pay attention when you teach on suffering.

My class began with a general philosophical introduction to the problem of pain. The classic conundrum goes something like this: if there's a God, and this God is good, and this God is all powerful, how can there be suffering? Drop one of these three conditions and there's not much of a problem. The first class then looked at the Bible's explanation of suffering. The Book of Genesis, chapters 1 through 3, tells the story. In creating human beings as free moral agents, able to choose good or evil, God allowed for the possibility of evil, sin, and death. In response to our poor choices, the Bible tells of God's grand rescue story to love back into relationship a wayward people.

We then looked at Suffering and Job (not suffering and your job; that's a different story). This classic biblical book gave us many insights into the spiritual dimensions of suffering, the freedom we have to get angry with God, and some painful mistakes we can easily make in trying to help those who suffer.

Next, we looked at Suffering and Hope, how God responds to our sin and suffering in the death of Jesus Christ. In his life among us and his death for us, Jesus embraces and experiences every dimension of our human pain. His resurrection gives us the assurance that there will be an end to suffering and a glorious new life to come. Amidst our suffering, God is shaping us into the image of Jesus, teaching us how to endure in hope, and offering us a platform to bear witness to the world of God's love in Christ.

Finally, we looked at Suffering and Help. I outlined several do's and don'ts in how we might give comfort to the suffering. We followed up the class with a two-part video series by Louie Giglio, "Hope--When Life Hurts Most" (available here: http://tinyurl.com/yk83q85). It's been a powerful season for studying suffering...and an exhausting one. As I mentioned tongue-in-cheek to the Sunday School class this week: "I'm done with suffering." As if.

Suffering dogs our heels. It's a sure thing. As Jesus said in John 16:33: "In this world you will have trouble." Affliction. Persecution. Suffering. Guaranteed. But on this week which leads to trouble, we also have this assurance: After guaranteeing trouble, Jesus adds: "But take heart, I have overcome the world." Christ is with us in suffering. Jesus knows it first-hand. But Jesus suffered to this good end: all who humbly trust in his sacrificial suffering for their sins will share in the power of his resurrection life to come. Death will not be final for us; we look forward to a new heaven and a new earth--where there will be no more weeping, pain, or death. Jesus suffers once and for all. Ultimately, that's what's good about suffering.

Earthquakes, Birth Pangs, and the Newness of Spring

2010-03-20T13:54:00.005-06:00

I was born and bred in earthquake country. Now, no matter who tells you this, never believe them: "I'm used to earthquakes." It's not true. No one's used to earthquakes. They come unannounced, the great leveler of all society. No one's immune, no one's safe, unless they're up in an airplane. Sylmar, Landers, Big Bear--luckily not Loma Prieta or Northridge--I've experienced my fair share. Earthquakes remind you you're not in control, that forces bigger than you can change your life in a heartbeat.

We've all witnessed our fair share of earthquakes recently. Japan, Haiti, Chile, even Los Angeles this past Monday. Seismologists tell us not to worry, the earth is always quaking. But still...we wonder. Those of us familiar with the Gospels will recall Jesus's statement which associates earthquakes with the great upheaval preceding the end of time, those tremors which will open the door for his return and lead to the restoration of all things:

"And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars; see that you are not alarmed; for this must take place, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places: all this is but the beginning of the birth pangs" (Matthew 24:8).

Wonderfully vague, but pointed just the same, Jesus reminds us that the world as we know it will not continue forever. New life is stirring. Christ's kingdom is spreading. History will come to its appointed conclusion. And God declares, as we read it in the last book of the Bible, "Behold, I am making all things new." Earthquakes. Birth pangs. New life.

Outside my window the ground is covered in wet, spring snow. The buds on the aspen tree are barely visible. The brave daffodils boldly poking from the ground are entombed again in heavy wetness. Unwelcome for now, perhaps. But give it some time. It's cold now. But spring is coming. Life is emerging. And it will come whether we welcome it or not, whether we're ready or not. Life triumphs over death. That's our Lenten reminder, our Easter hope. That's the object lesson of this change of seasons today. Birth pangs. New life. Are you getting ready?

Oscar...and the Grouch

2010-03-08T15:43:00.003-07:00

Was it just me, or did anyone else feel the Oscars were a bit...lacking?

Honestly, I'm starting to feel toward the Academy Awards the way I've felt now for two seasons towards "American Idol"--tired and uninspired. Both of these shows are slavishly working the template with minor innovations year to year. They don't seem to be trying very hard. Even worse, both offerings strike me as self-indulgent. One almost gets the sense that Oscar and Idol coast along on an air of entitlement: "We're the best and we will do what we please. You may watch us." Ugh.

The highlight of last night's awards ceremony, for me, was the modern dance number. Man, what acrobatics! I found myself applauding aloud in the family room. That was a great moment. Steve and Alec's shtick was okay (I'm an old Steve Martin fan and I tend to enjoy Alec in 30 Rock).

The lowlight for me was seeing the cosmetic flaws of the celebrities. I've renamed HD TV "AGE-D TV" as a result. It was a good reminder of our collective mortality. And it made me feel less ashamed of my own flaws.

I guess the question I'm left with for last night's Oscar show was, "Is that the best they can do?" I'm thinking Oscar needs an Extreme Makeover. What do you think?

Tiger Teaches Repentance

2010-02-19T13:14:00.005-07:00

Today's big story is Tiger Wood's press conference in which he offered a 13 minute apology to all affected by his infidelities. If you haven't seen the video, you can watch it on YouTube.

While I realize that some may interpret his words with cynicism, seeing this mea culpa as motivated by money, I didn't get that feeling at all. I think he was sincere and, having since read a transcript of his remarks, I'd like to offer a few thoughts on his example of contrition and repentance.

First of all, I appreciate that Tiger didn't speak out too soon. Shortly after the Thanksgiving car accident in Florida and the subsequent revelations of his multiple affairs, Tiger apparently went into 45 days of inpatient psychotherapy. Only after that--and before another stint of inpatient treatment beginning Saturday--did Tiger choose to speak. (This explains the awkward timing of today's press conference during the Accenture golf tournament. Apparently, Accenture was the first of his sponsors to drop him.) What Tiger shows by waiting to speak is that a formal apology is much more effective when its words come from the painful work of self-examination, a process which takes time. Woods' apology had none of the blame or excuses we've come to associate with other public expressions of regret. True repentance works to get to the root of what caused us to act out in the first place; it then bravely names it and asks others for forgiveness based on this fresh self-awareness.

True repentance, as Woods illustrates, is not a matter of eloquence and emotion, but of changed actions. I appreciate this statement: "my real apology to [my wife] will not come in the form of words; it will come from my behavior over time." Saying we're sorry is the easy part; walking the road of repentance in transformed behavior and healthy habits, that's the hard part. We can only hope that Tiger continues to take steps in this direction.

By explicitly naming the problem and its nature, Tiger shows us the meaning of confession. "The issue involved here was my repeated irresponsible behavior. I was unfaithful. I had affairs. I cheated. What I did is not acceptable, and I am the only person to blame." We're reminded that the Bible's definition of confession is "agreement": we agree with God's verdict on our behavior: our actions have damaged others and been inconsistent with God's ways. What we've done is wrong and we're to blame.

Notice too that Tiger acknowledged the many relational dimensions of his poor choices: he hurt his wife, his children, his mother, his business partners, his sponsors, his fellow golfers, those who serve on his foundations, the kids he seeks to help, and all young people and families who look up to him. Clearly, he's pondered at length the many people he's affected and he's sought their forgiveness. Well done, Tiger. In a sea of moral relativism and brazen independence, where so many people are tempted to say, "What I do with my personal life is none of your business," Tiger has fought the tide and owned up to the fact that our personal choices do in fact impact others. Confession and repentance are essentially relational activities.

Tiger also seems to be gaining fresh insight into his (reclaimed) spiritual life, particularly in his newfound willingness to seek a balance between the spiritual and professional. I wish him well in this regard. He shows us that our spiritual practices are not kids'-stuff, meant to be tossed aside when more adult matters of money, sex, and power beckon. No, the spiritual life, with its accountability, responsibility, and relational compassion, is meant to mature in us throughout our lives.

I think we also need to appreciate Tiger's stated openness to receiving help from others and his desire to help fellow strugglers as well. I heard in this the language of the recovery movement, which has its roots in biblical wisdom. Again, Tiger seems to be seeing that the rugged individualist, the moral Lone Ranger, is a dangerous myth, a monster even. Life and peace are found in the humble path of interdependence, honesty, and mutual accountability.

Tiger's given us a good example today of what it means to face our brokenness, to begin to plumb the depths of our depravity, and to struggle to find a way forward. I long for him to know the full healing that Jesus offers, where Tiger's sins may finally and fully be washed away. I pray he won't be crushed under the burden of trying to save himself. "I have a lot to atone for", he mentioned. Dear Tiger, none of us can atone for our sins. At the end of the day, someone else needs to do that. May you find the full transformation, the wonder of healing, and the restored relationships this Someone offers. You're off to a great start.

Cellphones May Be Dangerous to Your Health

2010-02-04T13:14:00.006-07:00

Yesterday I had lunch with a friend in the medical profession. We got to talking about the effects on society of digital technology. I shared with him my funny sci-fi idea: "Wouldn't it be weird," I said, "if we found out that the microwaves emitted from our cellphones and wireless technology had a bad effect on our health? Man, that would change everything, wouldn't it?! Kind of like the thesis in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein."

Then my friend replied, "Funny you should mention that." Watch out when someone says that. He said he'd just read an article in GQ, a fine, scholarly journal I have been known to read at the barber's. It pretty much alleged the same thing. Here's the link so you can read it yourself:

http://tinyurl.com/yckpjjy

He also mentioned that since reading the article, he'd shut off the wi-fi in his house and only uses a wired earpiece when speaking on his cellphone. This is a sane, level-headed doc. It's given me pause. And it may be bumming me out. After all, I'm an iPhone afficionado now! Read the article and let me know what you think!

Haiti, Pat Robertson, and Suffering

2010-01-16T09:32:00.004-07:00

By now, 700 Club televangelist Pat Robertson's comments on the disaster in Haiti are shockingly familiar. If you haven't heard them, click on the link below.
http://www.huliq.com/3257/pat-robertsons-comment-haiti-quake-deal-devil

If I understand him correctly, Robertson seems to be saying that the earthquake was part of the (alledgedly divine) cursing of Haiti in response to its "pact with the devil" in removing French colonialists. In fairness to Robertson and his CBN television station, they are engaged in relief work in Haiti and are deploying funds and people to help alleviate its suffering. However...

Such remarks by Robertson are at their best thoughtless and cruel. At worst, they are blasphemous and heretical. What kind of God is implied here, one that would bring down cursing on an island already beset by such great suffering? What kind of God would afflict poor Haitians and leave such other cesspools of immorality in the world untouched?

It's so tempting to assign blame or to try and explain the cause of such disasters. All of us, in a sense, are tempted to do such things. We want to manage and contain the world's suffering, control it, compartmentalize it away so that it cannot spread to us and our loved ones. However, in doing so, we too often trivialize the problems, heap further suffering on the afflicted, and harden our hearts. Not to mention invite the ridicule of others.

I so much prefer the way of Jesus, who had something quite different to say in response to affliction. In John's Gospel, Chapter 9, Jesus happens upon a man who is blind from birth. His disciples ask, "Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" In other words, "Who's to blame, Jesus? Whose sin is the direct cause of his suffering?" Sound familiar?

Jesus surprises them (and us) with his response: "Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him." Jesus then heals the man's eyes and restores his sight. The man's suffering becomes the occasion for God's kingdom to bring healing and relief. We can't assign responsibility for the earthquake; but what we can do is use this tragedy as an occasion for God's works to be revealed in ministries of compassion and generosity. Please pray, give, and seek ways for God to be glorified amidst such devastation.

Colt McCoy Gets His Say!

2010-01-08T08:53:00.004-07:00

In today's Dallas Morning News, sportswriter Keven Sherrington described Texas' heart-breaking loss to Alabama last night by highlighting the apparent silencing of UT quarterback Colt McCoy, after his early first quarter injury: "The winningest quarterback in college football history, left without a say in the game he wanted to win most."

Uh, I don't think so, Kevin.

After the game, McCoy exhibited a maturity that belied his youthful looks. A strong, committed Christian, he was exceptionally gracious in defeat. When he could've quickly exited the field or lamented his sidelined status, he spoke of his faith and the foundation it gave him for--get this--accepting defeat. Here's a clip of the interview:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5XdrLCftsY

How refreshing to find a star athlete give credit to God--especially when losing. Colt, you MORE than had your say last night. Well done, brother.

It Ain't Over Yet

2009-12-26T09:25:00.007-07:00

Right now, the residents in our home are feeling the predictable post-Christmas Day poop-out. The gifts are unwrapped. The Nerf guns have been warred with, the gadgets explored. The food consumed. The Christmas tree got rudely escorted off the premises this morning. The ornaments are in their boxes in the basement. It's done.

Or is it?

The consumer version is finished, no doubt. But my Daily Lectionary of Bible readings (http://www.pcusa.org/lectionary/)--along with a much-mimicked song--tell me that there are 12 (count 'em, twelve) days of Christmas. We've even got two Sundays of Christmas in the church calendar. I like this reckoning of time; in fact, I'm going to use it. It's always struck me as ridiculous that the ancient Christian view of Christmas has fallen captive to the consumerist shopping holiday. Don't get me wrong: I loved opening my presents and watching my family open theirs. But if all we're left with is unwrapped paper, empty boxes, leftovers, and returns, that's pretty unsatisfying, especially when the reason for this holiday is God taking flesh among us to change all history.

So, I'm going to let my liturgical calendar call the shots for the next couple weeks. It's refocusing--it puts a nice bookend on the Advent season which has led up to the Day of Christmas...and it helps with the feelings of let-down.

So until Epiphany, Merry Christmas, Day Two to you!

Time Between the Times

2009-12-23T09:36:00.007-07:00

I'm musing on time this morning. It struck me yesterday that in this new year, I will have been graduated from college for 25 years. Ouch. Times blurs by. Watching my 15 year old outstrip me size-wise is disorienting. I don't feel middle-aged, but I guess I am.

I've just finished Larry Dossey's The Power of Premonitions (Dutton, 2009). He's the MD internist researcher who's studied the effects of prayer and spirituality on health. In this most recent book he looks at that strange phenomenon of foresight--those impressions and dreams we often have that seem to come true. Towards the end of the book he muses, with the help of astrophysicists, on the nature of time. According to them, no one's quite sure how to define "time"! Apparently, at the beginning of creation, there were more dimensions than our current four (which include time). There may have been as many as eleven, which collapsed into those four shortly after the Big Bang (or whatever event began reality as we know it). There may be, if I understand them correctly, "worm holes" which lead into different dimensions--and linear time, as we know it, may be only apparent, not ultimately real. Woah.

Whether Dossey et all are correct, I have no idea. I do know that I've had several premonitions, some of which have been powerful and accurate. It's hard to explain these and Dossey does a good job reflecting on the large amount of research done on these phenomena. One thing I do know is that our God is above and outside time as we experience it. I also suspect that Christ's resurrection and his anticipated return at the end of time to judge all humankind and then create a new heaven and earth will blow apart all our notions of time. (See the Book of Revelation--not "Revelations", please--chapters 21 and 22.) Connecting to our timeless God through faith in Jesus Christ lifts us into a timeless reality which will carry us beyond this mortal life and into life eternal--life without suffering and death. Now you really need to read some of my all-time favorite Bible verses: http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=128586871

Which brings me to this time between the times we call "Advent." This year's cycle ends soon and it's our annual reminder that we Christians live between the two comings of Christ and that time as we know it is boundaried by greater realities than the clock and calendar. Our link to Jesus Christ in faith, especially his new life which seeps slowly into our being daily as we walk after him, leads us into time beyond time. What does it matter if we age and die, provided we are moving closer each day to reality itself? Each day on earth is another opportunity for us to affirm his truth and power, his victory over death, and his second coming which will make all things new. Yes, time passes. Our bodies age. But there's much more to time than this. Viewed in the light of Advent, Christmas, and Easter, aging isn't the unwelcome intruder it appears to be. Temporal time is our reminder that time itself will be transformed by the arrival of Jesus. Til then we wait. Blessed Advent to you...and Merry Christmas.

The OS of Spiritual Life

2009-12-14T09:59:00.006-07:00

Over the weekend I had a brief health scare. I'll spare you the details and let you know I'm fine. Got everything checked out. No need to worry. But it was a moment that gave me pause--on a number of levels. First, it was one more unbidden reminder of midlife: I'm mortal. In younger adulthood, I knew it conceptually; in midlife, I'm knowing it actually. Mortality's real...and much of the time it ain't purty.

Secondly, I was surprised at how quickly my anxiety escalated. That stunk. I kept reminding myself of the lordship and gracious care of Christ, but that seemed to do little to stop the runaway beating of my heart. I was confronted again not only with my mortality, but also with my essential human frailty. Ah, this mortal flesh. Wasn't it St. Francis who referred to his body affectionately as "Brother Ass"? I get that.

My brief foray into this relatively unfamiliar realm gave me renewed appreciation for those I call on in the hospital or convalescent home: their own fear and frailty, their disorientation and confusion, their feelings of helplessness and being out of control--these are all very real experiences and, as we go through life, they become more frequent. I feel new stirrings of compassion.

Lastly, as I reflect on how my faith in Christ is called to speak to fears and frailty, I recognize that it's a journey for all of us--and often a slow one. My brief experience over the weekend showed me that like my Dell computer, beneath the relatively smooth Windows operating system, with its simplicity of navigation, lies the strange, unfamiliar MS-DOS. Rough code, raw data, no user-friendly interface. My fear and vulnerability feel like DOS--usually hidden, rarely glimpsed in a quick reboot. Over this primal id lies Windows, my conscious affirmation of faith in Christ--and indeed, my deep desire to live for him. The challenge of spirituality is to integrate these two operating systems--to have Windows lay claim to DOS and have this OS operate seamlessly. To avoid crashing. To become Mac-like (I'm sorry; I couldn't resist). I'm sure my analogy breaks down, but hopefully you get the picture.

My prayers go out for all who feel afresh their frailty. Be encouraged: it is for us that God became human in Jesus Christ. It is for us that he lived among us, fragile and vulnerable, yet trusting in God and showing a sacrificial love that has the power to transform our lives, even if slowly. As we ponder his life, death, and resurrection--and gradually, by his grace, allow these truths to marinate our consciousness--we find resources to navigate all that life throws at us.

How goes it with your operating system?

Cold and Complaining!

2009-12-09T17:45:00.005-07:00

C-c-c-cold here right now. Too cold. So cold for so long it feels like the house guest who won't leave, slowly consuming our provisions and wearing out its welcome. Cold collateral count: We've killed 14 mice in 48 hours--apparently they're coming in out of the cold--and snacking on dog food and raw sweet potatoes. And peanut butter on traps. Mmm. I'm thinking of selling pelts...

Also, I'm noticing the cold seems to be wreaking havoc on electronics. Could be coincidence, but my brake light's on in my car when the brake isn't engaged, my IPod broke, the automatic garage door opener is kaput (the spring snapped), the disposal's out...was ist los? Is 2012 coming early?!

Let's not even talk about bike-riding. I think even my toughest cycling buddies are relegated to the indoor trainer and the sweat-fest. I'll settle for 35 degrees. Please. And I thought this Californian had finally become a Colorado boy. Apparently not. Not when it's this cold.

Out of Bounds

2009-12-01T10:23:00.004-07:00

It happened again last night on the drive home: the car ahead of me in the fast lane drove for several seconds hanging well over the yellow line into the median. I could just make out the driver's form in what looked like "texting" posture. This is happening more often it seems: many drivers tend to treat lanes like driving suggestions. And this isn't occurring late on Saturday night, either. It's all the time. I don't recall seeing this as much in years past. What's going on, do you think?

Maybe it's just Boulder. I'd be interested in whether this is occurring more where you live as well. It just seems to me that, increasingly, drivers feel free to drive wherever and however they like--without respect to their fellow motorists. It strikes me as somewhat in-your-face post-modern: the radical, individualized self determining how it will drive. You can almost hear the driver protest: "Hey, it's a free world! I haven't hurt anyone." "Yet", I'd add.

I'm grateful Colorado today begins enforcing a no-texting while driving law. This applies to everyone. Also, beginning today, drivers ages 16-17 won't be allowed to speak on cell phones when driving either. I say make it drivers of all ages! And raise the fine: $50 for first offense/$100 after that seems almost laughable. Come on, folks, put some teeth in it.

Maybe I'm just too modernist...but I say you stay in your lane and I'll stay in mine. Rules of the road--or rules elsewhere, for that matter--are meant to ensure safety and provide order. I don't think that ever becomes passe.

Feeling Flat

2009-11-21T09:59:00.004-07:00

Hi. I'm back. Finally. It's been a very busy several weeks, much of it in preparation for this past Tuesday evening's "Spiritual Formation in the Digital World: A Conversation on the Opportunities and Challenges of the Internet Age." It was a good event. 60-70 church members ranging from young- to senior-adult turned out to wrestle with many aspects of emerging technologies and how they're impacting the human soul. I'd say it was a head-spinner. Really, if you think about it, what age has witnessed this much change this quickly? Yikes.

I'm reading Thomas Friedman's The World is Flat right now and even though it's a 2005 publication, it highlights much of what we discussed this past Tuesday. "Flattening" is probably the main theme of the book and the biggest implication of this technological change. Now that so much information is so easily available to so many so immediately, the pyramidal structures of power have dramatically flattened--accessibility, democracy, and new views of authority and decisionmaking are all emerging with huge implications for corporations, countries, and churches.

Here's a chilling quote from Friedman with all kinds of implications for church leaders and denominational officials:

"[T]he experiences of the high-tech companies in the last few decades who failed to navigate the rapid changes brought about in their marketplace by these types of forces may be a warning to all the businesses, institutions, and nation-states [dare we add "churches"?!] that are now facing the inevitable, even predictable, changes but lack the leadership, flexibility, and imagination to adapt--not because they are not smart or aware, but because the speed of change is simply overwhelming to them" (p. 46).

As our church navigates these new developments, as we consider new leadership for our future amidst a rapidly changing world, how will we respond to the implications of the digital age? Will there be a spirit of bold innovation? (Is this even possible with Presbyterian polity? I say, somewhat with tongue in cheek, but not really.) Will we think outside the box, consider flattened leadership structures, develop ministry partnerships, and move toward strategic staffing?

One thing the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) can use right now are consultant coaches--savvy people familiar with our tradition and the multitude of changes around us--who can assist pastors and congregations to restructure and renew their ministries in the digital world. While many churches may think they have the chutzpah and the talent to do this from within, I'm not convinced. An outside coach who's familiar with shifting paradigms and doesn't have an axe to grind, is better equipped to be a change-agent, than those within a church structure, who may be perceived as having a conflict of interest. In February 2010, we'll be hosting such a coach and a dear friend of mine for a weekend conference. Stay tuned!

Dare Number 1

2009-10-28T16:01:00.003-06:00

I'm browsing the Fall issue of Biola Magazine and very much drawn to Brett McCracken's lead article "Prayer for Generation Tweet" (http://www.biola.edu/news/biolamag/articles/09fall/coverstory.cfm). Give it a read--it highlights some of the spiritual side-effects of being wired 24/7. Because of the fast-paced, frenetic culture of instant, constant communication, disciplines like silence, solitude, and prayer are becoming rarities--particularly for the younger generations. According the the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life, younger people (ages 18-29) are the least likely group of American adults to pray on a daily basis, while older folks (65+) are the most likely to pray. McCracken names the issue: "In our hectic, 21st century world, some wonder whether many Christians are able to pray at length anymore--or even feel the need to. In our networked, hyperactive world of technological busybodies, God is most definitely still listening. But are we still praying?"

More and more I'm wondering if we need a little time each week to live "unplugged". Can we take a day, a morning, an afternoon, or an evening and turn off the screens? I'm doing this on my day off each week, purposely not checking email (definitely not work email) and also trying not to surf the web. It feels odd, honestly, but also good. So...Dare Number 1: Will you take the challenge and set some regular time in your week to unplug--and consider using part of that time to renew your relationship with God in prayer? Let me know if you attempt this--and what it's like for you.

Changing Social Etiquette in the Digital Age

2009-10-19T16:28:00.003-06:00

I have a confession to make. Recently, during a meeting, I texted my wife. It wasn't casual conversation with her; it was to let her know I would be late in coming home. But I still felt guilty about it! It didn't take much of my time to do, but it distracted me from the conversation and it meant I wasn't fully participating or honoring those who were speaking at the time. Was what I did rude? Or was it socially acceptable, kind to my wife in fact, and a good use of my time?

Your answer may depend on what generation you belong to. From what I'm hearing from some younger friends, in the business world it's very acceptable to text during meetings, to respond to emails, even to check the Web. What might be considered distracting and inconsiderate by some, is for others a way of multitasking and engaging in conversations on different subjects with different people simultaneously. The times they are a-changing...

Not too long ago I got an emailed thank-you after we hosted some friends at our house. It's quite common to do this--to either text, email, or Facebook a friend to express one's thanks. Thank-you cards, I suspect, are falling on tough times. It used to be we sent or delivered real gifts in real time; now, virtual flowers, chocolates, and even kisses, are sent via Facebook. And invitations increasingly are coming in Evite format over the Internet. I bet it won't be too long until wedding invitations come this way. Good for the trees, yes. But somehow, it doesn't feel the same...will we lose something as well?

About a week ago, when a contentious subject arose at work, a colleague of mine bravely chose to meet with the person in person and not conduct the conversation via email. What a difference it made! No amount of emoticons can possibly convey what the human face and body language, combined with carefully chosen words, can communicate. Some topics are covered well digitally; others not so much. It takes thoughtfulness to discern which medium to use.

Let's not kid ourselves: the digital revolution and modern communications technology aren't just making our lives easier; in some cases, they may be making them more complicated. Marshall McLuhan's famous quote continues to be apt: "The medium is the message." I welcome your thoughts!

Information Consternation

2009-10-15T12:38:00.003-06:00

Preface: I am now in early middle-age. That may explain some things, but not all things, that follow.

This week I forgot my PIN code to my bank ATM machine. Again. But this time it happened while I was in line at the supermarket, hoping to pay with my debit card and get some cash back. I entered my code...wrong. I tried again...wrong. I tried a third time (meanwhile people in line behind me are shuffling awkwardly and my face is growing redder by the minute). No luck. Heck with it, I'll use the Visa card, I muttered.

Later, in the privacy of my free time, I returned to a separate ATM kiosk and still...no luck. I hate it when this happens. But it's happening, I think, because I have so many passwords now. I go to my gym: I must program a password for the locker. I log on to write this blog--password. I log on to Yahoo, to work email, to EBay, to PayPal, to Amazon.com, to any and all web-interfaces, and a password is required. I'm told I shouldn't use the same one each time and so I don't, but I end up forgetting some along the way. Am I alone in this?!! Please say no!

Surely, this is one of the challenges in living at this point in history: the Internet presents information consternation, an overload of data, myriad security requirements, and much else that at times can freeze us in our tracks. Either that, or this middle-aged thing really stinks.

The Parable of the Ocean Liner

2009-10-07T15:16:00.007-06:00

Once upon a time, in the gilded age of ocean travel, there was a great ocean liner. Sumptuously appointed, no cost was spared as it was outfitted. Its construction, technology, materials, finishings, and craftsmanship were unsurpassed. Mahogany, teak, walnut, marble, Tiffany glass, crystal, gold, copper, and brass--these were among the materials lavishly employed. The staffing--the captain and crew--were highly professional and well-trained. From design, to engineering, to meals and service, the ocean liner was top of its class. Its purpose? To speed the transport--and facilitate the comfort--of trans-continental passengers. Its navigation systems reflected the best science of its times. Passengers filled the ship as it sailed from continent to continent. There was even a waiting list for travelers to find a berth aboard.

Naturally, to deliver these services much activity occurred behind the scenes. Meetings of captain and crew were held with regularity. Staff in various departments--cooking, housekeeping, engineering, maintenance, navigation--all met regularly to be sure their tasks were coordinated, polished, and professional. After all, the paying passengers deserved this; and the mission was a worthy one--state-of-the-art world travel for the guests. In its heyday, the ocean liner received numerous awards and was well-rewarded by full bookings and the recognition and appreciation of governments and industry. It was an indispensable part of society and highly regarded.

But, over time, changes in travel and technology cut into the liner's relevance and importance in global transportation. The advent of airplanes, of jet liners in particular, made the ocean liner seem ponderous, quaint, and outdated. Now, for the relative few who chose to travel by ship, the destination became less important, but the creature comforts remained paramount. The captain and crew still served with professionalism and excellence. The various staff still met frequently to plan the details of their unique services: the ordering of food and preparation of delicious meals; the maintenance of the boilers and engines; the cleaning of the rooms; the entertainment of the guests. Countless hours were spent in discussion and debate about the best ways to conduct these activities aboard the ship--but, sadly, fewer and fewer passengers chose this means of travel. In fact, the ship sailed less and less frequently, often remaining anchored in the harbor for months at a time.

Yet the meetings continued. The budgets were still developed--though, with fewer passengers, services and staff needed to be scaled back. Great debates occurred among the management and personnel about new furnishings for the ship: which carpets would look best (and which could be afforded)? Much capital was spent on repairs and maintenance. As the income from passengers all but dried up, hard choices needed to be made. Could the ship really expect to sail, with reduced crew, limited maintenance, and antiquated navigation systems? With great reluctance, it was finally concluded that the best way for the ship to have a role in society was for it to remain at port, moored in the harbor. Tours would be offered to those interested in exploring its history and viewing its staterooms and grand dining facilities. Minimal maintenance, therefore, was needed, just enough for its doors to remain open. The captain retired; the staff were let go. All that remained were tour guides dressed in period costumes, typical of the golden age of ocean travel--and fewer and fewer visitors paid the fees for entry.

Flickering Pixels!

2009-10-01T10:42:00.008-06:00

Recently, I gave a shout-out for Shane Hipps' excellent book, The Hidden Power of Electronic Culture (Zondervan, 2005. See post below). I've since read his most recent book Flickering Pixels: How Technology Shapes Your Faith (Zondervan, 2009). The latter is a popularized version of the former, taking the seminal ideas of his first book for church leaders and making them more palatable for everyday Christians. For those interested in this subject (and particularly for church leaders), the first book remains a must-read. But for those somewhat interested, really, for any thoughtful disciples, I'd suggest Flickering Pixels. It's more anecdotal and chatty than the earlier book and adds a small bit of new material. It's quickly digested--more of a bedtime read than a careful study book. It's a quick way to get the major arguments and insights of the first volume.

I share with you just a few quotations from Flickering Pixels, to give you a taste of its style and content:

"If oral culture is tribal and literate culture is individual, the electronic age is essentially a tribe of individuals" (107).

"If oral culture is intensely connected or empathic and print culture is distant or detached, then our electronic experience creates a kind of empathy at a distance" (108).

"I find it troubling that so many communities of faith are in hot pursuit of these [web] technologies. The Internet is seen as the Holy Grail of 'building community.' However, churches will find the unintended consequences of this medium coming back to bite them. The Internet is a lot of things, but it is emphatically not a neutral aid. Digital social networking inoculates people against the desire to be physically present with others in real social networks--networks like a church or a meal at someone's home. Being together becomes nice but nonessential" (115).

"Protestant Christianity is a by-product of a single medium--the printed Bible. Without printing no one could have challenged the authority of the pope. How disconcerting to have a faith yoked so closely to a medium that is now in the dusk of its life, at least its life as we currently know it. Our culture has a shrinking preference--and even aptitude--for reading books, especially complex ones. If the Bible is anything, it is complex, so it should not surprise us to see a growing biblical illiteracy in the electronic age" (146).

It's fair to ask if Hipps is, on the balance, overly critical of Internet technologies and what he perceives as their negative impact. While he does offer some very helpful pointers in the classic spiritual disciplines as useful countermeasures to the soul-stultifying aspects of the Web (and informs us of some of the rich practices of his Mennonite tradition), one wonders if he could explore more fully some of the positive, worthwhile aspects of digital technology (for example, couldn't texting be a great way to encourage people you're thinking of and praying for them? Couldn't social media networking pave the way for more frequent and focused face-to-face human contacts?). Whatever the case, this is an important read and one I highly recommend!

Changing Church Authority in an Age of Information

2009-10-01T10:19:00.006-06:00

"Authority is often derived from information control. In other words, as access to information increases, centralized authority decreases." --Shane Hipps, The Hidden Power of Electronic Culture

New technologies often give rise to radical shifts in society--and society's structures. Certainly this was true with the invention of the printing press. As average people learned to read and had access to affordable reading material, Western democracy and individualism (as well as the Protestant Reformation) were made powerfully possible. In the Information Age, as more and more people have immediate access through the Internet to all kinds of information, how will churches, particularly historic denominational churches, adapt their leadership and authority structures?

When people today can read and immediately comment on online news articles and blogs, when their voices can be heard in real-time through Twitter's tweets and retweets, when new wall postings on Facebook can be read and responded to instantaneously, how can church leaders communicate with church members in ways that are faster and more flattened? Will the weekly bulletin, the monthly church newsletter, and an old generation website really do the trick? I somehow doubt it.

And how will we make an historical and theological case for an elected body of leaders (let alone church staff) who will make decisions for the church apart from these kinds of emerging input and involvement from others? How will we uphold the idea of a called, carefully selected, spiritually gifted leadership in an age where this will feel elitist and exclusive, an age where the democracy (and immediacy) of access to information is assumed?

I'm not arguing one way or another, yet. But I do think it's important--essential, even--to raise the questions. And we don't have the luxury to wait too long to address them. The train is pulling out of the station and I can hear the whistle blowing...

The Hidden Power of Electronic Culture

2009-09-17T13:07:00.004-06:00

Rarely do I find myself reading a book and marveling, "This is the perfect book at the perfect time." Shane Hipps' The Hidden Power of Electronic Culture is this book for me. This helpful work describes in detail how electronic culture (particularly digital communications technology and the Internet) shapes human minds, culture, and the Church.

If you've visited this blog recently, you'll know we've been grappling with changing culture, social media, smart phones, all these and more. We're wrestling with how these present the Church with challenges and opportunities that are simultaneously dizzying, disorienting, and exhilarating. Hipps does a masterful job alerting us to the contours and shifting sands of this ever-changing postmodern landscape. He uses the brilliant insights of Marshall McLuhan to help us see not only the tools of the latest technology, but also their hidden power to create culture and shape communities. McLuhan, some may remember, was the media ecologist of the 1960s best known for his famous quote: "The medium is the message." Hipps takes issue with the old evangelical saw "The methods may change but the message remains the same." Hogwash, says Hipps. The methods of communication, whether the printed page, radio, TV, or the Internet, powerfully convey their own message and have the ability--in themselves--to transform the way we think, feel, communicate, and "do Church." No medium, in other words, is neutral. Hipps then launches us on a breathtaking gallop through McLuhan's thought, giving us tools to scrutinize new technologies and observe how the Church and Christianity have been profoundly shaped by the advent of new media, moving from oral to written to visual modes of communication.

In particular, Hipps reminds us that all media is an extension of either a human body part or capacity. For example, the printed page (and later the television) is an extension of the eye. The radio is an extension of the ear, and so forth. Hipps then shows us how each medium makes an earlier technology obsolete (telephones replace telegraphs, email replaces snail mail, etc). He demonstrates how if a certain medium is pushed to its extreme, it will reverse in the opposite direction (cars, which made transportation faster, can get caught in traffic jams, which slow down transportation). Finally, the author shows us how each medium retrieves some earlier experience or medium from the past (texting, for example, retrieves the telegraph). These four observations form a grid for us to critique the gifts and dangers of emerging media. Hipps applies these insights to church leadership and structure, as well as worship styles. This entire discussion serves as a helpful outline for the move from modernity to post-modernity.

I'm not one for hyperbole, but I have to say it: this is a brilliant book. Clear, concise, crisp prose makes its 165 pages a quick read. The analogies and illustrations are spot-on. Relevant, prophetic, breathtaking--a must-read for our church leadership and anyone interested in discerning what may be the new shape of church in the 21st century. Visit the author's website at www.shanehipps.com for more!

Cyberspace and the Growing Generation Gap

2009-09-14T11:14:00.004-06:00

I just met with a colleague to discuss challenges in ministering to our senior adults. Due to budget constraints and a desire to optimize resources (and care for our environment as well), we've recently gone to a shorter Sunday church bulletin format. This has meant that announcements have been significantly abbreviated. We're steering people to our new Connections Center kiosk in the foyer (we call it the Narthex, but that sounds like a nasal spray). Here, volunteers can help folks find pertinent information about ministries and programs. We've also sought to point people to the Internet for more details. This is great...except for our 400+ (mostly senior) adults who do not have access to the web or email. So here's the rub: how do churches (and for that matter, non-profits or even businesses) with limited incomes stretch their resources to reach a wide variety of generations, some of whom aren't tech savvy? Do we spend most of our efforts and cash to reach newer generations? Do we reserve cash (and time, paper, and ink) to continue to print expanded bulletins and do costly mailings? Technology, the economy, emerging (and aging) generations--all of these get stirred into the mix. How do we keep the family together amidst such change?

Certainly, it requires creative thinking: we need to learn how to do more with less, to find ways to communicate that are cost-effective and yet, at least somewhat, generationally aware. My suggestion to my colleague was to establish phone-trees to involve older members in the responsibility for disseminating timely information to their peers. Also, we will need to educate our older population (and church visitors, too!) about skills needed to navigate a changing landscape of information (how to find the new Connections Center, whom to call, which brochure to pick up, etc). We've got to be intentional about including older generations, even as we rush into new technologies and ways of connecting.

It also occurs to me that we can't give up on our older adults and assume that many of them cannot learn (or are not interested in) new technologies. I know first-hand this isn't the case for everyone. Many of my friends in our congregation are 80+ and very familiar with the web. Still, we need to educate, equip, and include. I long for some way to link young people (maybe college students who have a bit of spare time?) to older adults, to coach them on setting up high speed internet access and learning to surf the web and do email. Added benefit and business tip: I suspect this could be niche market for a small business (or maybe there already are such businesses offering this type of intergenerational consultancy?). In the past, our church has offered computer classes to our older adults. The trouble, I've heard, is that these students learned on one type of computer at the church, but had a different system at home. At-home tutorials would seem to make the most sense, though they may not be the most efficient and time-effective.

In the multigenerational church, we've got our work cut out for us: how do we keep the family together? How do we let generations be where they are but not get left behind? How do we merge onto the information superhighway--embracing new people, new technologies, and new opportunities--but not leave our beloved seniors by the side of the road? Thoughts, anyone?!

Counterintuitive Lessons for Church and Culture

2009-09-09T13:33:00.005-06:00

Ran across a most interesting article yesterday in the online Leadership Journal. It's an interview with a young Reformed pastor of a booming church in greater Dallas. What strikes me about what he shares is how counterintuitive all his insights are: a young, doctrine-preaching Calvinist, who raises the bar of holiness, who stresses the majesty of God, who shuns merely practical, application-style preaching, is drawing literally tons of young people to Jesus! For the article itself, go to: http://www.christianitytoday.com/global/printer.html?/le/communitylife/discipleship/thegoodfight.html. For now, let me offer some of my favorite lessons from this young pastor...

The stock wisdom is that 18 to 30 year olds demand customization in all things, including church--they want church done their way, on their terms, in their style. They also don't want churches to set the bar too high or limit them in any way. That's the stock wisdom. Matt Chandler, the young pastor of The Village Church of Highland Village, Texas refuses to accept such wisdom. Instead of highly practical sermons, he focuses on doctrine, God's character, and "an unashamed call to commitment and holy living." Having begun with a mostly Boomer congregation of 150 in 2002, Chandler's congregation now is a multiple-site church with over 6,000 in attendance, most of whom are under 35. Go figure!

Chandler shuns easy-believism or "four steps to victorious Christian living." He points out that too often such preaching promises too much and delivers too little, alienating listeners and sharpening their sense of defeat. He embraces the difficulty of holiness in his preaching, the war against sin that is a lifetime struggle. That certainly squares with my experience, with my reading of Paul in Romans 7, and my attraction to Calvinism. I like what Chandler says, that growth in grace as a Christian is a process that looks somewhat different for each person. "It's very complex," he maintains, "and that's the error we make in many churches--we try to standardize the process for everyone." There's no cookie-cutter approach to growing Christians. I resonate with that.

Chandler seeks to infuse his congregation with a culture that invites honesty and struggle. One video they showed interviewed a church member frustrated with sin and nowhere near where he wanted to be. In the middle of his testimony, he started crying and they stopped the recording. But they still showed it on Sunday morning! Powerful. Raw. Real. I loved it. The Village Church has a saying: "It's okay not to be okay." But they add a very important statement: "...but it's not okay to stay there." Both sides of this equation are essential in biblical discipleship.

Chandler raises the bar in his preaching and his requirements for church membership. And, believe it or not, the young people are flocking to join. This pastor's ministry gives us pause as we consider what it means to "do church" amidst changing culture and new generations. Read the article and, if you like, share your thoughts.

Y I M NGRE

2009-08-25T17:08:00.005-06:00

I feel it's time for a rant. It's been too long. My subject today is a question: "Is digital communication causing us to grow shallower by the minute?!" Let me expand. Does instant access to communication and information make us broader but shallower--in our relationships, knowledge, and critical thinking?

Take texting for example. It seems we've lost the ability to spell, write complete sentences, even articulate thoughts beyond 160 characters. Sorry, but emoticons don't count. Texting is fine for last minute updates on information ("running late")--but we all know that for many (kids in particular) this medium serves more purposes than this. As a possible consequence of this, I am now stunned by how many spelling errors I'm seeing not only in digital media, but also in print media. Boulder's Daily Camera gives me a wealth of examples each morning. It's fingernails-on-the-chalkboard for this English major.

I would argue that thoughtful, articulate communication requires time and space--and lack of interruption. My big fear is that we are not only growing shallower and losing our capacity for critical thinking (as a culture), but that we are inevitably giving way to our feelings and jettisoning our ability to reason well. As we get busier and more distracted by tweets, emails, IMs, facebooking (it's a verb now), etc--and as we customize all our preferences online--are we trading something essential--giving up quiet and solitude for constant noise? Thoughtful, considerate communication for more convenient instant contact?

What about these bizarre things people keep sending on Facebook--virtual flowers, coffee, blah, blah, blah. I know they're meant to indicate someone's thinking of you, but they strike me as impersonal and frankly ridiculous.

I'm fascinated by the changes we're witnessing and sharing together, but at the same time, I'll be honest: I'm troubled. I'm worried about our souls. Sometimes I feel we're like lemmings, rushing pell-mell to the cliff's edge, propelled by technology, and hurtling to our demise.

Okay, okay... that was a bit strong...but I am concerned. My ambivalence grows daily: I'm excited by the breadth and speed of information technology--but discomfited by what we may be sacrificing along the way. More and more the need to be "shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves" comes to mind--we need much wisdom to navigate the opportunities and perils of the digital age. Anybody with me? Or am I just getting old and crotchety?

The Dangers of Consumer Christianity

2009-08-19T15:15:00.004-06:00

When we first moved from Oakland, CA to Colorado some seven years ago, I was tremendously impressed by how quiet things were here. By how I could easily find a parking space near a store or outside the mall. By how quickly I could simply "pop" into the local Costco and make a purchase on my way home. Less traffic, no lines, friendly service--how strange and startling! What I realized is that there was an ambient noise- and stress-level in the Bay Area to which I'd grown accustomed. In fact, more than that, I didn't notice it any longer. It was only through the out-of-state move that I learned the beauty of a quieter, less congested, less frantic life. Sometimes things are so close to us, so pervasive, so much a part of our existence, that we barely notice them. But they shape us tremendously.

So it is with our consumer culture, where buyer is king (or queen). Where individual preferences and customized experiences reign. Where we can shop around literally or virtually for the best deals on the planet. Our wants and needs become the dominant criteria for our choices, our lifestyles, indeed, our very lives.

Skye Jethani's recent book The Divine Commodity: Discovering a Faith Beyond Consumer Christianity (Zondervan, 2009) does a marvelous, if not disturbing, job in pointing out just how captive most of us Christians have become to our consumer culture. His fluid, engaging prose and his use of Van Gogh's artwork provoke the mind and fire the imagination. His primary point is to show how we've tended to commodify God and reduce God to a genie in a bottle, who exists primarily to fulfill our wishes for our lives. As an antidote for these tendencies, the author makes a creative case for the use of historic Christian spiritual disciplines. Jethani, a managing editor of Leadership Journal (http://www.christianitytoday.com/le/) and a suburban Chicago pastor, engages popular culture, art, history, and academics in emphasizing his points. Here are some quotes from early in the book which give you a flavor of his writing:

"Consumerism is the dominant worldview of North Americans. As such, it is competing with the kingdom of heaven for the hearts and imaginations of God's people" (p. 12). "Consumer Christianity, while promising to strengthen our souls with an entertaining faith, has left us malnourished with an anemic view of God, faith, church, and mission" (p. 14).

Jethani reminds the American church that, according to most surveys, American Christians are no different behaviorally than their unchurched counterparts. The reason, says Jethani, is that such believers have failed to be transformed by their faith; their imaginations are stunted and shaped more by consumer values than by biblical realities. This is tragic for the church and for the world: we Christians settle for watered-down religion that parrots our purchasing habits and the world is deprived of vital, life-changing examples of how we are in love with and transformed by the power of Jesus.

What's particularly provocative for me as a pastor and church leader is Jethani's indictment of churches who uncritically accept business principles and marketing techniques to grow their congregations. This is so tempting for us! Certainly, we can learn from business practices--but these need to be filtered through the criteria of the Bible and historic Christian spirituality in order to discern their proper roles. We must beware our American penchant for pragmatism and our myopic view of history. Church history and theology can be very relevant for spotting the potential pitfalls before us.

Here are some pointed excerpts: "This philosophy of spiritual formation through the consumption of external experiences creates worship junkies--Christians who leap from one mountaintop to another, one spiritual high to another, in search of a glory that does not fade...Ministries that focus on manufacturing spiritual experiences, despite their laudable intentions, may actually be retarding spiritual growth by making people experience-dependent" (pp. 78-79).

This is a great book to be read by small groups and particularly by those under 50 who, like me, can be so conditioned by their culture that they hardly notice it shaping them at all. It's also an important read for those in my congregation who are journeying through a pastoral leadership transition: what kind of church is God calling us to be and what kind of vision and leader should lead us? Key questions right now!

For more from Skye Jethani, visit his blog: http://www.skyejethani.com/

The Challenges of Customization

2009-08-15T11:01:00.003-06:00

As we continue to reflect on the challenges and opportunities for the church in a digital age, "customization" seems to be a very important topic. If you've discovered the wonders of Pandora (pandora.com), you know what I mean. Pandora is a customizable online radio station, free of charge, where you become your own deejay. You can select your own genre-based channels, with all kinds of sub-categories (I never knew there were so many kinds of country music!). Pandora makes suggestions of artists and songs and you rank them, thumbs up or thumbs down. Out comes your own music station with only the songs YOU like. No advertisements, just uninterrupted listening pleasure. In a word: customization. For your music.

Of course, you can subscribe to your self-chosen diet of podcasts--you get to listen to your favorite subjects (even sermons!) when you want to listen to them. You get your preachers in your way on your schedule. Do you see where I'm going with this?

As print media moves the way of the dinosaur, as we have literally hundreds of cable channels to choose from (and which we can now DVR or TiVo to watch when we want), as we create our own customized home pages on the web (have you tried iGoogle? It's a self-created page with all your favorite news and entertainment feeds)--as we can now customize our online experience to meet our personal needs, style, and whim, older options become obsolete. Remember when we all used to watch one of the three network news channels at the same hour? When we got a lot of our news from the local paper? When our main choices were "take it or leave it"? Times have radically changed.

Two critiques I'd offer at this point, one for people, one for churches. For people, I'd question the starting point of customization. As the DayTimer ad proclaims: "It's all about you!" Customization's delight is that it is indeed all about us: we get only what we want, as much as we want, when we want it. What's wrong with this picture?

For followers of Jesus Christ, the Suffering Servant of God who came to offer his life as a ransom for many, the motto is not "It's all about you." Rather, it's about dying to self in order to live. "If any wish to become my followers," says Jesus, "let them deny themselves, take up their cross daily, and follow me." He also said, "for those who want to save their life will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel will save it." Jesus says the way to life is not through catering to the self, but dying to the self. Try making that your website's philosophy! The goal, Christians have said for centuries, is to learn to follow Jesus and sacrifice yourself and your needs in order to love and serve God and neighbor. And for those of us bent on customizing our lives to meet our every need ("save your preferences!"), this is getting tougher. That's a thought for us as people. Now, for the church...

My hope is that churches who seek to reach out to a digital generation will be, as Jesus urged, "shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves." I hope we can discover how to harness the benefits of technology while not uncritically accepting all their aspects. For many of us, our 21st century spiritual formation agenda must include a challenge to thoughtfully navigate these challenges and opportunities. Churches must strive to understand the emerging benefits and costs (not just financial!) of the internet age. And most importantly, we'll need to read between the lines to see the hidden human cost: how does even this subject of customization influence the spiritual life?

We've got our work cut out for us as church leaders: understanding and employing these emerging technologies even as we build our websites, market our ministries, and offer our programs, all the while recognizing the possible pitfalls to the inner life and the growth of genuine community--not to mention the worship and service of God.

The Joy of Living Unplugged?!

2009-08-10T15:59:00.004-06:00

Just got back from the family vacation in the Northwoods of Wisconsin. It's a great time to truly unplug and get away--no internet access, a small hard-to-watch TV, hardly any shopping or commercialism, just woods, lakes, wildlife...good simple gifts.

My oldest son was asked to leave his cell phone behind and he was a good sport about it. What a difference it made: we had a teen far more engaged than is often the case, someone more content to play board games, to go outdoors and fish, to play cards with family members. But best of all, we heard him laugh and chat with his little brother after lights out at night. That normally never happens at home with separate rooms, schedules, and interests. There's a joy to living unplugged--at least once in a while. When was the last time you did that?

But...I returned to our church to find that the front office had been vandalized and our email server badly damaged. Our church staff has been out of email contact with each other and the wider world for over a week now. So, clearly there's a joy of living unplugged--as well as a great hassle when taken to the extreme!

What an interesting juxtaposition: the usefulness and necessity of digital communication on the one hand, as well as the blessed break we can enjoy when stepping away from it once in a while. How to live in that rhythm is the challenge, it seems to me.

In the Same Boat

2009-07-22T10:17:00.006-06:00

Today's lectionary reading is from Mark 4:35-41 in which Jesus stills the storm on the Sea of Galilee. I've always loved this passage. Take a look at it if you've got a Bible handy. Or open up another window and go to biblegateway.com and type it in.

First, the text offers us important insights about Jesus, both in his humanity and his divinity. His humanity is obvious and realistic: he's tired from teaching the crowds and his disciples take him into the boat, "just as he was." I like that! No superhero Jesus here. He's real and human and whipped. He catches some shut-eye in the stern of the boat even as a storm churns in over the lake. He must've been very, very tired as the great windstorm causes waves to almost swamp the boat--and still he remains asleep. The disciples must jostle him awake, confounded as they are by his apparent narcolepsy. "Teacher, don't you care that we're perishing?!" they shout. They're put off by how out of touch he seems, possibly by how self-indulgent his little nap appears at a time like this. "At least share our fear," they seem to imply. The humanity--and the silence, if not the impotence and ineffectiveness--of Jesus cause them to feel overwhelmed and unsafe. Yet, let's not forget: there he is, with them in the boat, sharing their fate. If they go down; he goes down with them. That's got to count for something.

So the humanity of Jesus, along with his apparent disregard and possibly ineffectiveness, causes the disciples great consternation and fear. "What can this guy do to help us?" they wonder. We may feel the same today. Jesus is in our orbit; we acknowledge him in our midst...but he seems asleep...or distracted...inattentive to our cries and to the waves and wind around us. "Lord, don't you care that we're perishing?" we yell. Thank goodness the text continues--and the real humanity of Jesus entwines itself with his breathtaking divinity.

That's the second lesson and perhaps the primary one of our passage. Jesus does indeed wake up; he does in fact care--and he most certainly has the heart and power to help the scared disciples. He rebukes the hostile elements--leaving the disciples in awe. "Who is this," they marvel, "that even the wind and the sea obey him?" This Jesus is divine, God in human flesh, the one who has power over the creation he has made. Don't just consider the very real humanity of Jesus; above all, don't think he doesn't care. He's present in the storm, with them in the boat, and more than able to provide for them in their need. So the real humanity and the powerful divinity of Jesus are clear lessons here. But we're left with a challenge.

"Why are you afraid?" Jesus asks his scared followers. "Have you still no faith?" Having witnessed what I've done, heard my teaching, lived with me, don't you get it yet? Don't you know that I'm with you? Don't you know that when you're with me, ultimately, nothing can harm you? Sure, the wind and waves will come; sure, the boat might even sink--but don't you know I have the power of life and death and that I am able to meet your needs no matter what? Of course I care!

The message is that we're all in the same boat. Jesus shares the storm with us in our humanity. He's subject to the same waves and wind that rock our lives. But, more than that, Jesus also has the power to transform our plight and deliver us. He may seem silent or asleep--but don't be fooled. Even the wind and the sea obey him. Whatever your storm today, do not fear.

A Bad Case of iPhone Lust

2009-07-20T11:21:00.004-06:00

Dang. That new iPhone is sexy. I say this having recently been in California where it seemed like everyone had one. Everyone except me. I'm a Verizon guy--and the reason is my whole extended family is on this provider, meaning our family plan allows for limitless free calls between one another. Practical. Not sexy.

I long for an iPhone. Man, those apps...that GPS navigation in real time. The ability to find online answers to questions in mid-conversation. That nice camera. Listening to iTunes. I could go on...

But in the spirit of holiness, I will refrain. If Moses were to chisel the 1oth commandment now, surely its command against covetousness would include "thy neighbor's iPhone." Verily, I wilt be content with my Verizon Motorola phone...for now.

What this sexy explosion of techonology showed me is that we've passed the point of no return technologically: people are wired 24/7 and that gives us new opportunities--as well as new challenges--in communication. I predict (and I'm no prophet, certainly) that within two years most phones will be "smart"--and that accessing the web from our phones will be commonplace. Again, as God's people, as the Church, how will we keep pace? I think this is nothing short of a paradigm shift parallel to Gutenberg's printing press. What think ye?

How Not to Act Old

2009-07-09T16:05:00.004-06:00

Well, this summer bug continues, though (hopefully) it's on its way out. It led me once again to the doctor's office earlier this week, where, in the waiting room, I perused a magazine for women in their 40s. Yes, a magazine especially designed for my middle-aged female counterparts. I felt bad. For them..and for me.

In the magazine I came across an excerpt from a popular book making the rounds: Pamela Redmond Satran's "How Not to Act Old." It was both humorous and depressing, practical and disorienting. What it made me realize is that a) I guess I really am getting old; and b) there are specific ways to combat this besides the usual middle-aged male mistakes.

I learned things like: 1) don't wear a watch (younger people never wear watches; they simply consult their cell phones); 2) emails are for old people (young folk always text, IM, or "facebook"--a verb!--their friends); 3) when texting, never use your index finger (hip younger people always use their thumbs); 4) when calling someone on their cell phone (itself a sign that you're old--see #2), never leave a message (young people apparently don't listen to their voicemail, or, if they do, never return your call anyway); 5) instead, dial and hang up without leaving a message (then your younger friend, seeing your number, will call back immediately, thinking that your call presages something either so great or so dire as to merit a call-back).

I write all of this with tongue held firmly in cheek. However, what it does indicate to me is that the rate of change--particularly that inspired by technological advancement, is accelerating right before my eyes. To think that emails have gone passe and with them voicemails and watches--all due to Twitter, social networking sites, and texting, and all of it within the span of literally months, not years--makes my head spin. My parents' generation (let alone mine) are quickly getting left behind. The communication gap is growing exponentially and it makes me wonder if the generational divides (and any consequent communication breakdown) will only widen and worsen. Will we lose the ability to connect meaningfully between age groups? What will be the net effect for families--and church families in particular?

One encouraging note: yesterday, at a birthday picnic in the park for some church friends, my teenage son purposely left his cell phone behind--and I had the joy of watching him play with his parents' buddies and their kids--uninterrupted by texting and other technologies. It can happen. But not without effort.

When Life...Slows...You...Down.

2009-06-25T13:02:00.003-06:00

I've had this nasty bug for almost a week now. It began with what I thought were allergy symptoms, progressed rapidly into a head cold with pink eye, then laryngitis, sinus-, and an ear-infection. Joy.

The good news is that the risk I took in trusting God to help me preach sick this past Sunday more than paid off. Once again, I'm struck by how God is far more committed to his Word and to his people than ever a preacher could be. I'm also impressed by how God seemed to call me into living the message I was preaching--even as I was preaching it (if you're interested in hearing the sermon, go to: http://www.fpcboulder.org/audio.html in a day or two for the audio file. The written version should soon be available at: http://www.fpcboulder.org/transcripts.html). Check out the sermon and you'll see what I mean.

My point today is that this upper respiratory illness has forced me to slow down. I find myself feeling terribly inefficient. I've taken a sick day. My voice still sounds froggy. I've been on the bike only to spin easily and get some blood flowing. And that's where the point came to me: slowing down, pedaling and breathing at an easier cadence, forced me to see things on my typical ride I normally blow past: certain wildflowers, a crumbling barn, country houses tucked away off a side road. Moving slowly, as unexciting and lazy as it felt, gave me a renewed appreciation for the good gifts in my life: the joy of living in such a beautiful place like Boulder County, the wonderful roads I take for granted, the textures and colorful palette of God's amazing artistry. I don't think I'd always want to ride or live at this pace, but if I gain the grace to see the goodness in it, it won't have been wasted. When life slows you down, will you take in the hidden gifts?

Doing Mosque in a Digital Age: What's Happening in Iran

2009-06-18T13:23:00.002-06:00

We interrupt this series for an important development from the streets of Tehran: the digital age is disrupting the control of the ayatollahs on the recent election in Iran! If you're like me, you're amazed at what feels like history in the making: despite the repression of the Iranian government, the people of Iran demand to have their voices heard--and they're expressing them to each other and the world (along with digitized video and pictures) with modern communication technology!

Go to YouTube or Twitter and you will find images taken on cell phones literally seconds ago from Iran--and posted, despite the efforts of their government, by the people. I think we're watching the leveling effects of the Internet age on traditional systems of control and management. It begs the question: can democracy be far away? Pandora's box of digital communication lies open and it's awfully hard for the mullahs and others to close it.

I'm encouraged by what I'm watching. We may be seeing the equivalent of the fall of the Berlin Wall. I pray so. It could transform everything in the Middle East. Watch and pray!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...can older denominational methods of control and management (and communication and decisionmaking) remain immune from these developments? What should stay the same? What should change? Hmmm....

Doing Church in a Digital Age, Part 5--A Media "End Run"

2009-05-27T09:12:00.002-06:00

I can tell I've been musing a bit too much on this subject of doing church in the age of the internet: now I'm getting thoughts come to me in the middle of the night! Last night, after having routinely checked my Twitter account to read up on Lance Armstrong's experiences at the Tour of Italy, it really smacked me: Lance is giving us a dramatic example of how it's now possible to do an "end run" on traditional media. At the moment, Lance is refusing to speak to the news reporters in Italy. Instead of giving them a few comments after a stage is finished, he goes straight to the team bus. (The reason for this has to do with apparent criticisms the media have made of him after he allegedly prompted the stage in Milan to be neutralized after he and other riders felt it was too dangerous to ride.) But just because Lance is refusing to speak to the world media in Italy doesn't mean he's silent! No, he has his Twitter account, followed by over 925,000 people (many of whom are reporters who quote from it!). Furthermore, Lance has linked his Twitter account to his Livestrong.com site, where he uploads videos he and his friends make directly from the team bus, the training table, his hotel rooms, wherever. If you follow Twitter and link to Livestrong, you actually get more (and more personal) news on Lance than was ever possible before. And...(this is the great part, for Lance, at least)...he gets to control exactly what you see and hear. It's customized news reporting! All of us have been watching the end of printed newspapers; well, now we're watching the end of traditional news reporting in general! Talk about flattening! As more and more news consumers get used to this form of media (and reject the traditional forms of reporting, even those on the web!), how will churches keep up, I wonder? It's incredible: in the past six months, since Lance has been Tweeting, we're watching a major change in how news get reported. Along with this, across the world, YouTube videos are now posted by amateurs about news events well before traditional cameras ever get to the scene. Dizzying, eh?

Doing Church in a Digital Age, Part 4--Community

2009-05-23T15:20:00.006-06:00

My brief foray into Facebook (it feels like it's now almost over, frankly) was revealing. It taught me many things: 1) it revealed I'm middle-aged (I saw pictures of my high school classmates and said to myself, "Who are these old people?!", only to realize they're most likely saying the same about me! Yikes! Where do the years go?); and 2) the Facebook function that yields recent updates from "friends'" on what they're doing has shown me, in some cases, that I may know what they had for breakfast with their kids, but I don't know where they're living, to whom they're married, or what they've been up to since we last connected in high school or college!

Thanks to our digital age, I now have more information about more "friends" but less contact and real-world connection to them to give me context for this information. If we communicate, it's likely "wall-to-wall" or maybe a message or an email but that's usually it. It raises for me this week's question about "Doing Church in a Digital Age--Community." In what ways does the internet culture foster community and in what ways does it hinder it? (By community, I mean a close web of supportive, nurturing relationships that meets mutual social and personal needs.) Is our virtual community making us broader but not deeper, relationally? Granted, for those relationships we're already in, a quick text, email, or IM can further dialog, keep us connected, brief us on the latest. But what of those Facebook "friends"? Or, as is the case in some virtual relationships, does instant and constant access electronically raise--or give the illusion of--expectations for actual relationship we cannot realistically meet?

My hunch is that electronic communication can be helpful if it's built on a foundation of historic, actual relationship. If we know one another well enough in real life, that is, if we understand nuances of history, humor, personal detail, etc about each other, then "140 characters" or less can be a fine way of staying in touch, at least superficially. Virtual relationship can augment, but not create, actual relationship. That's my opinion at the moment. But I'm open to correction. What say ye?

Doing Church in a Digital Age: Part 3--Distraction

2009-05-18T13:44:00.002-06:00

Although I've sought to avoid jumping too quickly into editorializing, our discussion of "Doing Church in a Digital Age" will unavoidably press into this area of value-judgment. At some point we have to reflect on our perceptions of what this age yields for us both positively and negatively. As we move in that direction a bit, let me raise the question of "distraction." I don't know about you, but I find myself often distracted by the opportunity (always available, it seems) to check email, email others, surf the web for information, read the news/weather/sports/entertainment sites, blog, Tweet, text, or IM someone. When there's a lull in activity at home or at work, it's all too easy for me to go to a screen and get busy. And even when I'm enjoying off-line activities, the familiar sound of a text message arriving or a cell phone ringing can easily interrupt. It makes me wonder: how comfortable am I--are we--with silence and solitude? How trained are our ears in listening--to God, to our own hearts, to each other? Are these not indispensable in the spiritual life? I think of the experiences of Israel and of Jesus in the wilderness for 40 years and 40 days respectively--stripped down, traveling light, focused on God--without urban amenities or a rich diet of entertainment and information.

How do we do when we're without our cell phones or computer screens? By filling these empty spaces with cyber-activity what are we missing out on? Is there an aspect of over-stimulation, or some adrenal connection, or even an addictive component to the digital age, I wonder? What would happen if we "fasted" from our screens for a day? How might we feel? What might we notice?

Your thoughts?

Doing Church in the Digital Age: Part 2--Flattening

2009-05-13T15:27:00.002-06:00

I'm grateful for the discussion generated after the last post. There's so much to chew on with this theme: "How has the age of the Internet impacted how we "do church"? In other words, how is our communication with one another affected? What new tools do we have for building community? What new challenges do we face with advances in communication technology? And, most importantly, for a church like ours in leadership transition, "How does this emerging culture of the Internet impact the leader and leadership structure we seek?"

This week I want to throw one major idea into the hopper: "flattening." One thing is abundantly clear when it comes to the internet, the old pyramidal structures of society have dramatically flattened. Here's what I mean: it used to be that the higher up in an organization you were, the less direct communication the average person could have with you. In print media, a pundit or columnist could write an article and you were privileged to read it, but not invited to respond to, let alone communicate directly with, the writer (unless, of course, you took time to write a letter to the editor). Now, we have organizations (churches, government, businesses, entertainment) where you're permitted, even encouraged, to communicate directly with the CEO, leadership structure, pastor, church board, or star. You can follow their Twitter feeds and leave a message for them; you can read their blogs (like this one!) and leave your thoughts for them and others to consider; you can write on their Facebook wall if you're a "friend"; you can often email a columnist or leave a note after an article on the online version (the New York Times does this a lot, I see). What this is doing is flattening the way we relate to each other. It's creating instant access, or at least the expectation of that. It's also creating an intricate web of interaction that goes in multiple directions and no longer just one way, top down. A conversation is created by such online communication; there's no longer just a fiat pronounced from on high, which people may take or leave. Instead, people are now invited into an online "town hall meeting", as it were.

How does this impact a church, I wonder? Surely, it invites church leaders to create some sort of space online where dialog is encouraged--it wouldn't be a stretch for pastors and church boards to have sites where readers and congregants can leave feedback and ideas--and possibly even have real-time instant messaging during certain hours. It might also mean that some version of a sermon is posted online and people can then interact with its themes and leave comments, questions, and thoughts for others to engage and ponder. Granted, things could get messy--and we can't manage every detail or take time to respond to every suggestion. But...could the benefits outweigh the cost in time, effort, or messiness, I wonder?

What thoughts do you have about "flattening" as it relates to "doing church"?

Doing Church in a Digital Age: Part 1

2009-05-06T15:41:00.002-06:00

As our church moves through a pastoral transition and prepares to look for a new head of staff, it occurs to me that this is an excellent time to review the changing culture in which our church finds itself, particularly a culture shaped by rapid changes in communications technology. My hope is that our congregation and church leadership will be able to name and understand changes around us which are affecting the way people engage each other, share information, contribute ideas, and keep pace with one another. All of this will shape how we view ministry, reach out to those around us, and seek someone to lead us.

This past Tuesday we teed up the idea with our church staff. I began by asking them the question: “In light of the digital age, in what specific ways has the culture around us changed?” Here’s what they replied:

“There seems to be less face to face communication; there is less silence; we now have a culture of immediacy, where there is a 24/7 availability and we can’t escape it. Things are always changing. When someone communicates with us, we can self-select a response (text, voice mail, email, instant message, etc)—and no matter what, people expect a response quickly. There is much less formality. We’ve moved from a word-based culture to an image-based one; we’ve gone from reading text to watching pictures or videos. With so much constant communication there is mixed or varied attention spans/levels. We can multi-task. There is increased fragmentation, constant distraction. Someone wondered: what happened to etiquette or manners? We have more social connections, someone observed, but are we actually less relational? We have to manage an ever-increasing volume of information. One person noted that there is a financial cost to staying up on technology. He also questioned the health consequences of micro- and radio-waves everywhere. Due to immediate accessibility, there is less hierarchy (organizations and society in general have become flatter). There is less privacy—people can easily find out information on others by Googling them.”

These are just raw reflections, not sorted or critiqued in any way. In fact, it was an effort for us not to label or criticize aspects of the digital age, particularly between the generations. What was evident to us all, I think, was that we live in a changing age and that churches cannot ignore changes and opportunities created by new technologies. For instance, having a dynamic website for a church is not an elective; it is required. It’s our front door to the world even more than our building! A stodgy, slow, non-intuitive web site communicates that we don’t care about or are not interested in younger, web-savvy generations (and, increasingly, older generations, too!). Many, if not most, people will visit a church’s website before they’ll set foot inside its buildings. Also, many visitors and members will want to listen online to sermons, teaching, and other offerings. This is a safe way to “test drive” a church. A seamless, interesting, easy-to-navigate web site is essential for a positive experience.

This is my first installment in what I hope will be several entries devoted to “Doing Church in a Digital Age.” In future blogs, I’d like to reflect on the ministry opportunities the digital age presents us with, how the internet culture is flattening and speeding up decision-making and how it creates communities which are self-policing and share authority and activity. I'd also like to think about what in Presbyterianism is essential to preserve in this changing culture...and what we might need to change. There’s much for us to think about! If you have ideas on this subject, please share them!

When Twitter Becomes TMI

2009-04-20T19:26:00.003-06:00

[Warning tender readers: this entry is mildly rant-like...]

Okay, so I joined the ranks of the Twitterati more than a month ago. I'm not sure what inspired this shameless foray into hipness, but I did it. I have six people following me, most of whom I don't know, which is weird. Especially weird when you consider that my updates are 1) infrequent; and 2) boring.

Anyway, I joined Twitter and among the two or three people I follow is cycling legend Lance Armstrong. I feel ambivalent about this, honestly. On the one hand, I've been following Lance in general since his first Tour de France victory in 1999. I bought a Trek carbon fiber bike that year, the same frame ridden by Lance to victory. We have a bond.

Since then, at Christmas, I've been given a VHS video/DVD of every Tour victory of his. I have seven in all. I guess that makes me a fan... I am now following Lance's comeback to pro cycling with mixed emotions. Part of me, as an aging midlifer, is exhilarated by his pluck and courage. His sheer chutzpah. But the rest of me wants to say, "Lance, give it a rest." Focus on your kids, your anti-cancer campaign, something else. It's time for a new leader.

So, I come to his and other "tweets" (those 140 character or less posts that update each Twitter account) with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. I'm interested in his jet-setting cycling lifestyle, his exotic training rides in Hawaii, Nice, and now Aspen. But do I really need to know that he and his kids had a pizza for dinner last night? Do I really care what new shoes Nike has made for him? Or do I need a new angle on his custom Trek Madone bicycle? Give me a break!

Twitter allows us common folk unprecedented entry into the life of the rich and famous. Doesn't Shaq now have more than half a million followers? Hasn't Ashton Kutcher surpassed CNN in subscribers? Sheesh. As "twitterati" we feel a bond with the "glitterati." But give me a break: at some point the sheer banality of Twitter will reveal that they are just like us--and frankly, not that much more interesting. Maybe that's the point. Maybe Twitter levels the playing field and creates the ultimate democracy. But still, there's this amazing arrogance among celebrity Tweeters: they honestly think that we hang on every detail of their lives. And maybe we do. But that's unfortunate.

The fact is, all of us, whether celebrities or simple folk, are uniquely special and we matter to God. So let's beware the arrogance (and the voyeurism!) and realize that God plays no favorites. God loves each one of us.

Holy Saturday

2009-04-10T21:37:00.002-06:00

My younger son asked me tonight on the drive home from the Good Friday service, "Dad, is there a name for tomorrow? I know today was Good Friday and Sunday is Easter. What's tomorrow called?" Such thoughtful theological inquiry, and from a nine year-old--I love it!

Tomorrow's called "Holy Saturday" and most of us Protestant Christians don't know what to do with it. Maybe it's a day for Easter Egg Hunts? For setting out the clothes we'll wear Sunday? Or getting the ham or lamb ready for the big meal to come? The more traditional, ancient churches have liturgies and services for this day. But we latecomers to the party don't have much to offer. Maybe that should change...

Holy Saturday commemorates Jesus in the tomb. Really dead. As the Creed says, "He descended into hell." Whether that refers to his complete spiritual and psychological alienation from God (John Calvin) or to a more shadowy "harrowing of hell" in which he went to the abode of the dead to preach to them the gospel, we don't know. What's clear is that Holy Saturday is quiet and unassuming. No anguish like Good Friday; no joyous celebration like Easter Sunday. It's the in-between holiday. Not much goes on. That we can see.

Holy Saturday reminds us that God is still at work even when there's not much evidence. It's like a long winter in which the seeds of daffodils lie fallow beneath the cold, hard soil. Doesn't mean nothing's happening. Just means we can't see it. Sometimes God's best work happens when we least see it. It's then we need to trust that life is pulsating beneath the ground, ready to burst forth in bright colors, if we will only be patient. "Wait for the Lord," the psalmist urges. And so on Holy Saturday, or anytime we can't see God, we wait...and we trust...and we hope. Life is right around the corner...

What Makes This Friday Good?

2009-04-09T14:56:00.005-06:00

It's a good question, isn't it? Whatever got into the minds of the Church Fathers (and Mothers) who named the day of Christ's Crucifixion "Good Friday"?! How can a day filled with such injustice, torture, sadism, gore, and seemingly, waste be "good"?

If all we had was this day, it wouldn't be good. If all we had was the cross, we'd have an act of heroism, even altruism, by an outspoken first-century Palestinian Jewish prophet named Yeshua bar Joseph. His death would join all the others in the long line-up of would-be Messiahs killed for a cause too radical for their contemporaries. That wouldn't be good.

This Friday is good only because it doesn't stand alone. In fulfillment of ancient Jewish prophecy, Yeshua is the Suffering Servant of God written about in the Prophet Isaiah, Chapter 53. And, according to eyewitnesses, he didn't just die and be buried. Come Easter Sunday, he rose again from the grave, proving God's favor and vindication and indicating the great turning of the ages: Christ is Risen, He is Risen Indeed! With his defeat of death, life begins to flow, seeping slowly, into our world. A great reversal begins: death will be killed off; sins will be covered; lives will be mended; the poor will be cared for; justice will be served--and a new heaven and a new earth will be coming. This is the beginning of new life. That's good.

I drove past the North Boulder Olde Stage Fire burn zone today. Right after that scary fire in early January, which burned nearly 3000 acres and threatened numerous homes, I rode my bike through the area. Blackened ground, charred landscape, smoky air filled my senses. It was devastating. Could life flourish here again? If so, how soon? Today, the burn zone is green with new growth--greener, in fact, than the unburned areas around it! What an illustration in nature of how life triumphs over death--and how out of the fires of suffering and devastation can come new life. That's good, too.

Good Friday is good because we have a God who refuses to dwell in a space remote from our pain and suffering. Our God gets messy with our sin, suffers for it, joins us in it, and refuses to let us go. Christ's outstretched arms on the cross are the divine embrace of us all, just as we are. That's really good.

Marvelous Moisture!

2009-03-28T16:52:00.003-06:00

This week brought much-needed snow to Colorado's parched Front Range. In one storm we received more precipitation than we had all winter long! The total for our part of Boulder County: over 20 inches in 48 hours! Now it's melting and a bit of green grass is peeking out from the snow-covered lawn out front. It feels good to look out the back window and see the pond full and the stream that feeds it overflowing with run-off.

As tech-savvy as we may be in the early 21st century, we still can't provide for our own precipitation. We're pretty dependent for that--on weather systems, at the least--or better, on God. A Bible verse which has come to mind repeatedly this week is from the Book of Isaiah: "For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it" (55:10-11). At the end of the day, human beings (even we sophisticated ones!) are dependent on God's provision and gift of life--whether literally, though the gift of moisture to water the earth; or spiritually, through the sustenance of God's Word, the divine wisdom and way to life given through Scripture.

God's wise creation of eco-systems, gentle and even fragile as they are, provides for our well-being. So too does God's Word, speaking into us life and refreshment, peace and hope, guidance and direction. Like the receptive earth beneath the snowpack, let us drink deeply and be thankful!

This Frail Mortal Flesh

2009-03-24T17:41:00.004-06:00

Maybe it's because I'm firmly in mid-life now. Maybe it's because I serve as a pastor of a large church and am more in tune with reports of illness and death in the congregation. Maybe I'm just more sensitive to it all now. I'm not sure. But all that seems to strike me of late is the frailty of our human flesh. Positive diagnoses for cancer have abounded recently; life seems to be flying by (my wife has now known me longer than I was alive when I first met her!). My 30th anniversary of my high school graduation is only two years away. My oldest son is my size and he's only 14. Wherever I turn there are reminders of time passing by, the body aging, life moving along--and the frailty of our mortal flesh. Heck, even the indomitable Lance Armstrong just had a major crash racing in Spain and will be off the bike with broken bones for the next six weeks or so. I'll bet that being 37 will make it harder for him to recover. Aging does that.

So what does one do with the inevitable onslaught of mortality? Some would say "eat and drink for tomorrow we die" (that's a biblical quote, by the way, but of the pagan world at the time of the early Church). Others might throw themselves into their work or family or other activities to either attempt to leave their mark or simply to distract themselves from the inevitable. As for me, I want to realistically face my mortality and acknowledge that this is indeed the human condition. And as I affirm these things, I'm aware...that we are in Lent. Lent, the season of the church year where on Ash Wednesday we mark worshipers with ash in the shape of the cross and intone over them, "You are dust and to dust you shall return." Mortality. Frail flesh. Very clear! And then we add something extremely important: "But thanks be to God for the resurrection of Jesus Christ!"

So let's go back to that pagan quote from the Bible. It's preceded by the apostle Paul's very important condition. Hear it again in its entirety: "If the dead are not raised, 'Let us eat and drink for tomorrow we die'" (1Corinthians 15:32). With Paul and the early Christians and, indeed, with biblical Christians everywhere who affirm that Christ is risen from the dead, I choose to celebrate the resurrection amidst the mortality of my flesh. Yes, I'm aging and I will die--and so are you and so will you who read this. "But thanks be to God for the resurrection of Jesus Christ." Lent leads us to Easter. We know how the story will end--and it ends very well indeed.

The Denial of Death...and the Tour of California

2009-02-25T16:45:00.007-07:00

Professional cycling mirrors much of the drama of human life. Cycling's ethos of pain and suffering, along with its promise of triumph and victory, seems to reflect a common human longing--as well as reinforce a potent myth.

The first two stages of the recent Amgen Tour of California, now America's biggest stage race, were ridden in horrid conditions--cold, wet, and rainy. Crashes abounded. Asked what it felt like racing in this mess, eventual winner Levi Leipheimer vividly remarked, "You wanna know what it feels like? Turn on your shower as cold as it gets and stand underneath it for four hours." Actually, more accurately, race up and down wet roads at breakneck speed, try to avoid crashes (and if you crash, shrug it off, jump right back on your bike and keep on pedaling). Brave a strong wind off the coast, try to stay warm with minimal clothing, and do it for four to five hours each day for 7-8 days. To hear most of the racers describe it, is to hear their overuse of the customary word "bit": as in, "It was a bit cold." Or: "It was a bit tougher than we'd anticipated." Or even: "I'm a bit sore." Pro cycling is steeped in a culture of toughness, of suffering, frankly, of an almost overeager masochism which motivates the rider to push himself to the limit of human physical endurance.

In 1973, cultural anthropologist Ernest Becker published a now-famous book entitled The Denial of Death. His thesis was that human beings are never comfortable with their mortality. The sure and certain prospect of death is terrifying, wrote Becker, therefore, humans have constructed hero myths and the cult of the superhero as ways of trying to transcend the grave. We revel in heroes and heroines, dramatic death-defying feats, and anything else which hints at the possibility of overcoming death. I think cycling plays right into that. To watch lycra-clad racers subject themselves to all kinds of suffering, from training to crashes, and to watch them get up--from bed or the ground or the hospital room, shake off the pain and do it again, is great fodder for our collective denial of death. Maybe aging isn't inevitable, we say. Look at Lance! He's making a comeback at age 37. Maybe we can overcome cancer, we say--again, look at Lance! Maybe with the right training, discipline, technology, whatever, we can in fact triumph over the grave.

I was blown away, watching the last stage over Mount Palomar in Escondido: I saw several fathers running at breakneck speed alongside the race leaders, holding up their infants as they ran, almost as if to ask their blessing from the passing pantheon of cycling gods. Was it a strange baptism they sought? A champion's christening for their young? Some guarantee against the grave? Weird, weird moment. Kind of Michael Jacksonian, too, if you know what I mean.

It's great to be drawn into the epic story of a cycling stage race. It's a stage all right, a stage on which is played out much of the human saga of tragedy and triumph. But let's be clear: cycling victories notwithstanding, death is still 100%. Only one person beat death. And only one person can help us beat death. And his name isn't Lance.

A Tired Template...and An Exciting New Comeback!

2009-02-12T09:30:00.003-07:00

I've been too serious in these postings lately, so it's time for something superficial! So what does a pastor do to unwind, to relax with his family, to distract his attention from weighty matters? This pastor watches American Idol--and follows the comeback of recently un-retired Lance Armstrong. They're similar and oh-so different, it seems to me.

American Idol...where do I begin? This is a show well past its prime, in my opinion. Why I tune in week after week in this Season 8, I really don't know. Sure, they've added a new judge, Kara. What she really contributes, I'm not sure. The voting of the judges, I've concluded, has nothing to do with the talent of the contestants. That's become patently obvious. What they vote upon is the creation of cast of contestants that will assure them viewership, particularly in certain demographics. Among the more serious contenders, they inexplicably choose the most eccentric contestants, presumably because they will provoke viewers and add some dramatic tension or ridiculous entertainment to the mix. I've gotten to the point of turning the TV off--it's become, for me at least, that predictably bad. The only thing that keeps me tuning in, is that it's a show the whole family can watch together, sharing groans and all. SpongeBob Squarepants might come close--but my wife fails to appreciate its subtle, sophisticated humor.

What Idol is teaching me is that there really is a shelf life to creative ideas. Slavishly working the program year after year doesn't yield the same results. What was fresh and dynamic a few years back has now become tired and predictable--even if you do move the judging venue to the "judges' mansion" (isn't that the same place The Bachelor was filmed?!) and have a sing-off or two. Ugh. Gag. The taste of milk past its spoil date...

Contrast this to Lance's comeback in cycling. Now, I'm not an early adopter of The Return, a big fan of the comeback from the get-go. I confess it all feels very Dara Torres-ish to me, if you know what I mean. I suppose that publicity for Lance's anti-cancer Livestrong campaign is noteworthy and admirable, but I still think this is about the Alpha Dog getting some fresh meat. But to his credit, Lance is an exceptionally gifted athlete who instead of reworking a thoughtless, predictable template, is coming back after three years out of racing and facing an enormously strong competition and racing races he judiciously avoided before (Tour Down Under in Australia, the Giro D'Italia, and a bunch of others before Le Tour). Lance's reign on the bike is probably as long as American Idol's run, but Lance can't just rely on old ways of doing things . He's got to adapt and risk and reinvent himself. This feels "formula-free." Therein lies the freshness which a stale Idol season desperately needs.

The Gift of Repentance

2009-01-28T16:37:00.007-07:00

"Now I rejoice, not because you were grieved, but because your grief led to repentance; for you felt a godly grief, so that you were not harmed in any way by us. For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation and brings no regret, but worldly grief produces death."
2Corinthians 7:9-10

We've all seen those sandwich-board signs (or their cartoon counterpart) where someone invokes us to "Repent for the End is Near." Repentance, if we think about it at all, tends to be negative--it's the rude, shrill exhortation of a self-appointed prophet claiming to care about our eternal life, but coming across to us instead as shaming and judgmental. Can "repentance" be a good word? Can it, in fact, be life-giving and holistic? I think it can.

These past few weeks I've been teaching on the goodness of the Christian message, the gospel as we call it. Tracing its origins from the Old Testament to its radical nature in the preaching of Jesus Christ (particularly in Mark 1:15), my goal is to blow our understanding of the gospel out of the water, to smash old categories of thought in which this glorious message has been confined, and to give us a sense of its radical, cosmic implications. Can't get into all that here (you'll have to go to www.fpcboulder.org/early_devo.html to dig further, I'm afraid); but let me just probe for a bit this word "repentance."

For much of its use in the Bible, "repentance" is a pretty secular, non-religious word. It just means "make a U-turn." Seriously! You're headed west on Canyon Boulevard and you realize you've missed the 29th St. Mall. You need to make a U-turn at 15th Street and head east. It can also mean "change your mind or heart" about something. We used to feel one way about something (a candidate or an issue, for example); now, in light of new knowledge, we change our minds.

When we reach the religious realm, "repent" means to quit heading one way (the wrong way, away from God), to turn around instead, and head the other way. It means turn--turn from death to life, from self-centeredness to other-centeredness. It means to turn away from all that is ultimately futile and empty to that which brings fulfillment and joy.

Now here's the big point: repentance is not a once and for all event! It's not like you do it only once, upon your initial conversion or turning to God. No, the best way to understand repentance is to see it as ongoing, a lifestyle of learning to turn away. It means to detect on increasingly deeper levels that which is unhealthy inside us and to turn instead to God's better way in Christ. At first, this means for us who come from other backgrounds (I wasn't raised Christian), that we need to turn away from the grosser forms of immorality and damaging self-centeredness. It means initially identifying those self-defeating patterns of gossip or rage or impatience or substance abuse or sex and turning those over to God in pursuit of health and wholeness.

But as we progress in the Christian spiritual life, God takes us deeper, down into the morass of our sin-soaked lives. We begin to address our age-old issues of motivation: we see how pretense and hypocrisy can characterize much of our Christianity. We then learn to cop to pride and vanity and arrogance, much of these played out--sadly, we realize--on the stage of our church activity. As we go on repenting, God peels off layers of sin in our lives like desiccated onion skins. One after another and sometimes painfully, God scours off the hardened husks of our false lives, stripping us down to the fresh newness he longs to expose in us. And repentance, this ongoing lifestyle of turning from attitudes and behaviors, thoughts and habits, and turning to God's new life, is our means of participating.

To use another metaphor, it's like pumicing off an old callous or even brushing and flossing our teeth--routine behaviors which we do because we know that health lies beneath.

The added benefit to all of this is that the character produced by ongoing repentance is winsome and approachable, humble and tender. People softened by sincere, repeated repentance (and the consequent experience of God's grace) have about themselves an attractive, welcoming spirit. This spirit draws Christian and non-Christian alike. Out of characters softened by repentance and new life, God is able to do some incredible things in us and through us. I suspect that it is to the degree that we are regularly repenting that we will grow in grace and be spiritually transformed.

The Power Source

2009-01-13T07:13:00.002-07:00

Power--and the transfer of power--is on everyone's mind these days as we ready for the old presidential administration to leave and the new one to take office. What are the limits of power? Its benefits? Responsibilities? Opportunities? These questions of power are real and relevant, particularly in a troubled economy where the use of power may or may not provide a solution to a recession and increased unemployment. These questions of power are also pressing in a place like Gaza, where the use (and abuse) of power (whether by Hamas or Israel) is hurting innocent, captive civilians.

Today's lectionary readings focus on power: where does ultimate power rest? In whom is the proper use of power found? First, the psalm of the day, Psalm 146 makes a bold statement: "Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help. When their breath departs, they return to the earth; on that day their plans perish" (verses 3-4). Whether voted in by a majority, protected by the Secret Service, or armed with sophisticated weapons, a new presidential administration's power is limited. Barack Obama, George W. Bush, it doesn't matter: these are mortals whose power is not ultimate and whose office cannot provide for our deepest longings and desires. By contrast, the psalmist urges people to invest their aspirations elsewhere: in the God whose power will never change. "Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God" (v. 5). What follows is a list of God's work for justice, the comfort of the oppressed, the release of captives, the restoration of sight to the blind and finally a declaration: "The LORD will reign forever." Here's true power, a power that liberates and is used consistently for the good of all.

The epistle reading today centers this power in Jesus Christ, as the apostle Paul prays that his readers will be able to grasp this, trust this, and be reassured (Ephesians 1:15-23). If you've got a Bible handy, look at the many times "power" is referenced here. In particular, note verses 20 and following: "God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion...[God] has put all things under his feet." This is the focus of the final reading this morning, Mark 1:15-28, as Jesus, in verse 15, preaches his first public sermon (his inaugural address, if you will). Here it is: "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news."

True power, the best power, the power that liberates and provides justice, that gives peace and hope for all, rests not in a new president or a clever economic policy. It rests in the King who's come to regain his rightful reign over the citizens of earth. This king comes for the first time in humility and gentleness, offering all who will hear his voice the chance to change their other allegiances and willingly submit to his peaceable kingdom.

Transitions and New Leadership

2009-01-05T07:13:00.002-07:00

Ah, the delectable lectionary (see my earlier post)! My spiritual breakfast this morning began with a familiar passage: Joshua 1:1-9, which has become very personal for me over the years (that's another blog entry, I'm afraid!). God seems to use Joshua 1 with regularity to reassure me of his abiding presence in the midst of transitions. A quick recap: young Joshua is taking over the leadership of God's people from newly deceased Moses, a giant of the faith. It's a time of turbulence and uncertainty and great challenges abound as Israel is called to cross the Jordan and go into the land to take possession. With Obama's inauguration right around the corner and with our senior pastor's last sermon preached yesterday, this text seems providential. The drumbeat reassurance God gives is this: "Be strong and courageous! Do not be frightened or dismayed. For the Lord God is with you wherever you go" (Joshua 1:9). It's a good word for new leaders and for a people being newly led.

Now get this: the epistle of the morning was Hebrews 11:32 - 12:2, where a long litany is recited, describing God's faithful leaders. It details the famous and the obscure, all of whom led under great hardship and failed to receive the reward. However, as the text makes clear, they led with vision and faith, trusting that the ultimate fulfillment of their leadership lay in God's hands and, indeed, encompassed future generations (that means us!). The big point of the passage is the exhortation at the end, to keep our eyes fixed firmly on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. That's vision! That's proper navigation. That's our strength and encouragement in transition. Jesus (the New Testament Joshua!) leads us into the new places God has for us. His presence is our reassurance and keeping our focus on him is the way to stay steady in unforeseen turbulence.

It couldn't get any clearer with today's gospel lesson: John 15:1-15! It's the famous "vine and branches" parable. Here Jesus reminds us that we are the branches, he is the vine. Our fruitfulness (in life, ministry, witness, service, justice, and more) lies in our abiding in him--our dwelling consciously and by faith in his living presence, our obedience to his commands to love one another and our world. This posture of quiet trust and relational closeness is the key to transitions and to faithful discipleship as we step into new places (and indeed a new year).

One sidebar comment: over the past week or two I've been thinking a lot about Gideon and the ridiculously limited resources God purposely gave him as he took over leadership (see Judges 6-7). I'm going to reflect on Gideon in another post sometime soon. But for now, believe it or not, here's how this morning's Hebrews 11 passage began: "And what more should I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon..." Delectable!

Like Shooting Fish in a Barrel

2008-12-27T16:20:00.004-07:00

Heartbreaking. That's the only word I have for the most recent round of Israeli-Palestinian violence. As I write, Israeli F-16s have retaliated for Hamas-initiated rocket fire on innocent Israeli suburbs. The death total at the moment: 225 Palestinians killed (400 injured), 1 Israeli dead from rockets. While we can debate about what constitutes the just use of force and the morality of eye-for-an-eye retaliation, the sheer imbalance here is overwhelming. Israel possesses the fourth strongest army in the world, is a nuclear power, and is far and away more powerful than the Palestinians and their Arab neighbors combined. The Gaza Strip is one of the world's most densely populated areas, called the largest penitentiary in the world: over 1.5 million Palestinians live enclosed here--they cannot come or go at will. For Israeli jets to bomb Hamas strongholds in Gaza is to guarantee the death of scores of innocent Palestinian bystanders, who, through no choice of their own, live all around the militants. The death of these noncombatants, by anyone's standards, is not just. The Gazans--Muslim, Christian, radical, moderate--have nowhere to go: they are surrounded by Israeli military and cannot leave their tiny enclave. Their water and power are turned on and off at the whim of the Israeli military. Their sources of food and medicine are extremely limited. Gazan Palestinians are desperate and theirs is a humanitarian crisis. What Hamas has done is not justifiable, particularly when it targets innocent civilians. But what the Israeli Defense Force and its jets are doing right now is tragic and unjustifiable as well. It's like shooting fish in a barrel.

No Vacancy?

2008-12-24T14:28:00.004-07:00

When I was a little kid, our family used to take car trips across the Southwest. We’d get in the station wagon (remember those?) and we’d drive out to Utah, or Arizona, or New Mexico. We never camped. We always stayed in motels. Sometimes we ‘d drive until way past dinnertime and arrive in a small town looking for a place to stay. We’d pass the nicer motels, the Best Westerns, even the Motel 6, and always, at that hour, the same red neon sign warned us away. What’d it say? “No Vacancy.”

No vacancy. Just two words, but they communicated a bunch more. Too late. All full. Keep moving. Not wanted. We’d press on and finally we’d find room in a seedier motel on the outskirts of town. “No Vacancy.” Not a great sign.

Imagine how Mary and Joseph felt…
Mary and Joseph had walked and camped for about a hundred miles just to get to Bethlehem. They were tired, Mary was in pain and ready to give birth—and the same sign met them: “No vacancy.” The Bible says that she “gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7).

Our Christmas pageant this evening explores this story. The Hotel Bethlehem has reached capacity. There’s no vacancy. What will happen to the holy family? Will there be room for them? Will people make space for them?

It’s a foreshadowing of the life of Jesus.
You see, in Jesus, God travels all the way from heaven to earth to get close to human beings. God literally comes to live within us, to re-connect us with himself. The New Testament says that Jesus came in order that he “might dwell in our hearts through faith” (Ephesians 3:17). As with Hotel Bethlehem, there’s a dramatic tension: will there be room in our hearts for Jesus? Or will we already be full up?

So many things compete for residency in our hearts.
Our jobs, our families, our health, the economy, our retirement savings, the world—all of them demand entry and cry out for room. And this season is even more crowded with all the stuff and things trying to barge in: card-writing, tree-trimming, gift-buying, package-wrapping, party-going, cookie-baking, eggnog-drinking—the list is endless.Will we let all this stuff in? If we do, we’ll quickly reach capacity. And when Jesus knocks on the door of our hearts, that same red neon sign will warn him away: “No Vacancy.”

There’s a great, but little-sung, Christmas carol that captures this theme. It’s called “Thou Didst Leave Thy Throne.” Listen to the words of the first verse…

Thou didst leave thy throne and thy kingly crown when thou camest to earth for me;
But in Bethlehem’s home there was found no room for thy holy nativity.
O come to my heart, Lord Jesus, there is room in my heart for thee.

What’s your heart’s capacity this Christmas? What sign greets Jesus as he comes looking for room? Is it the dreaded red neon one that says “No Vacancy”? Or is it one that says: “Room Left! Come on in!”?

Wrapping Lessons

2008-12-20T13:09:00.003-07:00

Are you good at wrapping presents? I'm not. I stink at it. Unless they are books or CDs. Those I can do. I don't think I'm the only one who's wrapping-challenged. I was at the Boulder REI the other day, where I heard a man on the PA system announce that a gift-wrapping seminar was soon to be offered. Wrapping goes with the Christmas season, whether we're good at it or not.

At Advent our family usually has some form of nightly devotion together. For our boys, the prospect of playing with matches (a.k.a. "lighting the Advent candles") and scarfing down chocolates (a.k.a. opening the Advent calendar windows) is too good to pass up. Anyway, this sporadic seasonal spirituality, when it works for us (which sometimes it does), can be very enlightening. The other night we were reading from Luke's Gospel, where, in Chapter Two, verse 7, we heard that Mary "gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger." For whatever reason, the verbs "wrapped" and "laid" leaped out at me.

Quickly flipping to the end of the gospel, sure enough, I saw them again, this time applied to Joseph of Arimathea, who took down the crucified body of Jesus, "wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb" (23:53). "Wrapped" and "laid" again! It's the perfect bookend to the life of Jesus: he enters this world (most likely) in a cave, where he's wrapped and laid for the hope of the world. He then exits this world in cave/tomb, where he's wrapped and laid for the sins of the world. The wrapping of God's gift! Christmas entry, Good Friday exit, the life and death of the Son of God in a perfect symmetry. The unwrapping of the gift we read about a bit further in the gospel, where on Easter the linen cloths that wrap Jesus' body are empty and Jesus is risen.

It's given me pause, this reference to wrapping: I wonder if the next time I'm muttering over my crinkled wrap-jobs and pesky Scotch tape, I will take time to consider the wrapping and careful placement of God's greatest gift. What a whole new way of looking at it!

The Church as a Christian Nordstrom?

2008-12-13T15:07:00.003-07:00

It's time to rethink the role and nature of the local church, particularly the full-service, "one stop shopping" larger church. In my opinion, one of the problems with a large program church is that it's easy for a culture of consumerism to penetrate its walls. Often this is subtle and unintentional. Let me explain: Large, well-maintained, highly professional, and well-organized churches can send off what I might call a "spiritualized Nordstrom" vibe. The staff and leaders of the church may strive to develop an attractive facility with high quality goods and services. The church becomes an oasis of respite from the world (we can almost hear the tinkling of the piano greet us in the lobby!). Polite professional people offer to help us and they present a high quality ministry designed to meet our needs. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. But there can be a shadow side: for those not deeply vested in the church, for those who mainly visit it for its services, they may be tempted to default to an unconscious Christian consumerism. As with their purchasing habits in other areas, they can become discerning church consumers looking for the best deal on the dollar. When the quality of goods and services dips, they may look elsewhere.

Interestingly, in this consumerist paradigm, a curious co-dependence can form between leaders and church members: the more professionalized, on-top-of-things, and in-control the leadership of the church appears, the more the membership may be tempted to retreat into the role of savvy spenders, carefully weighing the quality of services and programs in the free market economy of churches in the area. The more active and professional the leadership presents itself, the more passive and consumerist the congregation becomes. Not always, thank goodness, but sometimes.

Times of change and upheaval in a church (just like an uncertain economy for a high-end department store) challenge the paradigm and poke holes in it. What's occurred to me recently, is that the bigger church is not so much like a spiritual Nordstrom, but more like a big family. Like all of our families the church can be a place of successful nurture and celebration, safety, and predictability. But, like our very real families, sometimes the church, even the large one, is a place of brokenness and dysfunction, struggle and sin, uncertainty, vulnerability, and weakness. This is no reason to leave it for a better deal elsewhere--think what happens to families when family members do that! No, the church as family, as opposed to the church as Nordstrom, is the place of deepened commitment and growth. When challenges come, we re-commit, we work together, we try to communicate more effectively, we even call for outside help as needed. Church as family? Or church as department store? If it's the latter, "buyer beware!"

The Delectable Lectionary

2008-12-10T20:47:00.003-07:00

Since last month, after an encounter with some Presbyterian liturgical devotional practices at a training event, I've found myself curiously drawn to a widespread Christian practice: reading the Daily Common Lectionary. For those not familiar with it, the Revised Common Lectionary is a cycle of Scripture readings for personal devotion (it includes a morning and evening psalm, an Old Testament passage, a New Testament epistle selection, and a gospel reading). It's a bit of a workout, admittedly, but well worth it. The lectionary is developed and used by many mainline denominations, including my own, but it tends not to get much reading in more evangelical circles. What I like about it is that it exposes me regularly to a much broader selection of the Bible than I would tend to read on my own--and, better yet, it allows me to share the readings with a wide, though invisible, circle of Christians, not just in the United States, but around the world. With this new discipline, I'm experiencing a freshness in reading the Bible and I awake more eager each morning to see what spiritual food God has in store for me. As the day unfolds, it's amazing to watch how individual passages end up speaking to the practical realities I experience--it's uncanny, really.

Granted, this is only a season of reading I'm in, and this is only one tool among many I can reach for devotionally; however, I'm finding that it draws me out beyond the narrow confines of my personality, presses me to move outside my pet themes and passages, and reminds me of the grand sweep of God's activity historically. I'm really enjoying it and for those who'd like to give it a try, may I suggest you go to http://www.crivoice.org/advent1.html. There you'll see what I'm reading and you might try it yourself. And, if you're comfortable, please circle back to give me your take on the practice. Happy reading!

True Thanksgiving

2008-11-24T18:10:00.002-07:00

This past Sunday our senior pastor gave a very helpful sermon on "Jesus in Our Celebrations." In anticipation of the Thanksgiving holiday, he closed his message with an illustration of the 17th century German hymnwriter Martin Rinkart, who composed the famous Thanksgiving hymn, "Now Thank We All Our God." Apparently, this pastor-hymnwriter wrote the hymn during the Black Plague and the 30 Years' War. The point, we were told, was to give thanks to God despite our circumstances, knowing that God was indeed good to us no matter what.

After the service, I was approached by a church member leading in tow at least 7 Sudanese "Lost Children" who are refugees connected to our congregation. I had the privilege of praying for them after the service and then one of the men remarked to me: "I really liked the pastor's point about giving thanks in all circumstances. That's a good lesson. That's what I want to do." Considering all he'd been through, the horrible atrocities and the violent uprooting from his country, I was moved to tears. If he can give thanks despite the human rights violations, the terrible injustice, his separation from friends and family, so can we. His sincerity and spiritual focus were staggering. What an example and challenge he gave me. Now thank we all our God, indeed.

Help Wanted: Savior

2008-11-19T14:40:00.003-07:00

For many in our country, the feelings of hope surrounding the election of Barack Obama were palpable. Who will forget the shining faces of old and young, black and white, Asian and others, who gathered at Grant Park in Chicago on Election Night? Surely, this hope (audacious or not!) was sharpened by the grave circumstances surrounding the election: Americans were sobered and scared by plunging, catastrophic Dow industrial averages, wholescale destruction among lenders, as well as an automotive industry brought to its knees. Add to these things two simultaneous wars against global jihad, the challenges of climate change, and hope in these circumstances has a desperate tinge to it. More than ever, Americans want a leader to rescue them, to deliver them from these threats and re-establish peace, prosperity, and security. Would it be too much of a stretch to say that in Obama, some (consciously or not) are looking for a Savior?

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." They also call for talented leaders. But talented or not, there's a limit to what leaders can deliver, particularly in these times. I'm all for audacious hope; I'm deeply encouraged by the promise of Obama's leadership. However, I know that beneath these hopes and longings for a leader to deliver us lies something much more ancient and profound. You see, our challenging times only reveal certain aspects of a much more desperate predicament: we are living in a world under siege by enemies, not greedy corporate executives or wild-eyed religious fanatics, but enemies of the human race which afflict it in every way--in sickness and disease, in poverty and injustice, in drought and famine, in war and holocaust, in abuse and torture and unspeakable brutality. We have needed a deliverer ever since we were evicted east of Eden. Obama can't be our Savior; neither could Churchill or FDR or Jack or Bobby Kennedy. The problems are too profound; the crisis too desperate. These moments of vulnerability we're feeling today are teachable moments for us: these recent crises have knocked us off our high horse. We realize now just how fragile our American dreams are--and along with them, our lifestyle of privilege and expectation.

Some of you familiar with the Bible will recall the story of Israel's deep desire for a king amidst some turbulent, uncertain times. Granted, they always had the Lord to lead them as their king, but they wanted something more tangible, more tactical. They wanted a tall, strong leader--broad shouldered and handsome; Saul, in this case, was their man. And the Lord warned them against it. The rest would be history--tragedy, really. Saul didn't deliver and, on the balance, neither did Kings David or Solomon. Only one coming King could meet the need, the one born in Bethlehem. It's this coming King we may lean our hopes upon. His kingdom is without end and his reign will rid us of those greatest afflictions.

As we move into the season of Advent (and this Sunday, November 23 is Christ the King Sunday!), may we use the hope and longing we feel so powerfully in our country now, to steer us to this King who will not fail.

Praying for Our President-Elect

2008-11-05T10:47:00.003-07:00

First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings should be made for everyone, for kings and all who are in high positions, so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity. This is right and is acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour, who desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.
Paul's First Letter to Timothy

Regardless of your political persuasion, last night was an historic occasion. As a nation, we've just elected a new young leader and the first African-American president in our history. It seems Obama's campaign was won on the promise of change and a new way of doing politics. He now faces some of the most daunting circumstances of any new president. As Christians, we're always called to pray for our leaders. Perhaps now more than ever, I feel that need to pray...to pray God's wisdom be given Obama beyond his years and experience. To pray for discernment in appointing cabinet officials and key leaders. To pray for a sense of timeliness and insight in setting priorities. To pray for his physical health and safety--and that of his family. The burden of leadership can be crushing, and never more than in the current circumstances. So, if you're a praying person, would you join me in lifting Barack Obama before the throne of grace? Scripture commands it and the circumstances necessitate it. Thanks.

One More Trip to The Shack

2008-10-26T16:27:00.003-06:00

For those of you who have read Paul Young's The Shack (or for those considering reading it), please go NOW to the following link, which offers two of the author's testimonies from two Sunday morning services at the Crossroads Church in Denver. You'll need to scroll down on the page to the lower right hand corner and I'd recommend listening to the second message first. Here, Young tells the story of his broken life, touched, loved, and healed by the love of God in Christ. It's a very moving story and one that despite its uniqueness will resonate with your own story, I'm confident. Here's the link and it's worth your time (and if you're in a book study with others reading The Shack, consider playing the MP3 file for one of your next gatherings):

http://www.crossroadsdenver.org/weekend_message.shtml

I hope you'll find this as helpful and inspiring as we did!

"Religionless Christianity"

2008-10-13T10:03:00.003-06:00

I've just finished giving a sermon on "Jesus in Our Politics" and a particular quote from John Stott has stayed with me. Stott wrote many years ago in Issues Facing Christians Today, "Our God is often too small because he is too religious." Stott was challenging our tendency to confine God to an airless spiritual box called "religion." It's the old mistake of the Greek dualists: to elevate things "spiritual" while denigrating things "material." Spiritual, good; material, bad. Stott's plea in this section is for Christians to regain the traditional Judeo-Christian view of God's holistic commitment to all that he has made. Because God declared his creation "good" (see Genesis, Chapter 1's resounding refrain) and because God took on human flesh in Jesus, God's creation and redemption honor all things--things "spiritual" and things "material." In fact, as we look forward to the world to come, we need to be reminded that God will create a new heaven AND a new earth (Revelation 21:1). The goal of God's salvation project in Jesus is not to rescue us from the burning house called earth (or to deliver us from our bodies); rather, God's goal is to rebuild the house altogether and give us even better bodies!

If you think about it, this is pretty exciting. It's also captivating, both for the Christian imagination ("Wow, heaven will have even better mountains to hike and rivers to enjoy...") and for our Christian witness (our unchurched friends might be attracted to this idea of their potential future).

I heard someone say recently, "I hope heaven isn't just one long hymn-sing..." Don't worry. The Bible tells us it's going to be a whole lot more than that!

The Shack: A Look Back

2008-09-22T14:42:00.006-06:00

Wow. That's really the only word I have for it. Last night, at our church, we hosted an evening to discuss William P. Young's best-selling novel The Shack. Billed as an evening of dessert and discussion and publicized to our congregation, we had planned for up to 80 people. We had Peet's coffee and light refreshments for 80 people. Chairs and tables for 80 people. Well, guess what? Over 240 people showed up. Church members, regular church attenders, friends from book groups, members of other churches, people we hadn't seen in a while. Wow. Man, I wished I'd taken that multiplication of loaves and fish course in seminary...those cookies were gone before the evening even started.

Clearly, this book and the effect it's having is phenomenal. If you're interested, you can look at my earlier posts for some of my initial reflections. Today, I would only add a few more--and ask you, if you're comfortable and have read the book (and especially if you attended the evening), to share with me your thoughts as well.

What came through clearly last night was heart. Passion. Emotion. Readers were touched by the novel. Specifically, many mentioned they felt God's closeness and love in ways they never had before. For many of us, I suspect, our faith is primarily rational assent combined with duty: we believe the Bible and we seek to put it into practice. The Shack is reminding us that following Jesus is first and foremost a relationship of loving trust--and an obedience of the heart that flows from this.

One gentleman made this astute observation (I'm paraphrasing somewhat): "As I look around this room and hear from people who were moved by this book, I'm aware that these are people who've been attending church for many, many years. These are people who are devoted Christians and yet they are the ones who are being touched in such surprising ways. Why is this?!" Great question! And that's the question I and other church leaders need to be asking. Why are our people moved in this way? What does their reaction tell us--about the state of their souls and the state of our church? Where are we hitting--and more importantly, where are we missing--the mark in our ministries?

As I mentioned in my last post, religious structures are delivery tools or distribution systems for living water. The danger to any water utility is to focus so much on our piping systems that we reduce the living water to a trickle! Thirsty people need to drink--and they'll find their satisfaction in other ways, some better, some worse.

The Shack evening was a revealing moment and a wonderful invitation. We saw people's hearts open up in delightful ways: vulnerable, teachable, welcoming, tender, receptive. The invitation the evening issued was one of connection and simplicity: how will we make room for one another and be the church in ways that are primarily relational, not religious? I think we need to keep on pondering and not rush to programmatize (I'm making the word up, but you know what I mean).

Do you have any more thoughts on why this book is such an impact? I'd love to hear...

Water Delivery Systems

2008-09-17T17:18:00.004-06:00

Recently, our couples group was having an interesting discussion around Chapter Two of N.T. Wright’s very good book, Simply Christian. The chapter, entitled “The Hidden Spring”, is focused on the longing for God (which Wright calls the “echo of a voice”) found in humankind’s irrepressible pursuit of spirituality. Wright highlights how human beings are made for God, that we thirst for God, and that no amount of rationalism, materialism, or any other –ism can satisfy our thirsty souls. We come wired that way. To show how modernity has failed to repress or deny the human urge for spirituality, Wright opens with an analogy of a dictator who paves over a series of artesian wells only to find that over time these springs of water inevitably force themselves through the concrete.

It occurred to me, expanding on this analogy of humankind’s irrepressible thirst for God (for what the Bible calls “living water”—see Psalm 42, and especially, John 7:37-39) that all human attempts at spirituality are efforts to access this living water and lift it to our lips to drink. From the simplest cupping of the hand for a scoop of water, to turning a spigot, human beings have a history of making attempts to drink of God’s life. Larger historical religious systems are more like elaborate water utilities, vast subterranean pipelines with buried water mains, switches, tanks, pressure systems, filtration, faucets, and hot and cold handles. Whether highly sophisticated or disarmingly simple, these spiritual structures are variations on the same theme: helping people drink of Living Water. Some are effective; some are outmoded; some are broken; some are brand new. Through some comes a trickle, through others a geyser. Some are polluted; some are reddish and stained with rust. The effectiveness of each system has to do with whether or not it is firmly anchored to its source and whether or not it can pipe the water unadulterated to thirsty people for satisfying consumption. In many cases, repairs are needed: water mains break, sinkholes develop, and a crew must be called in to mend the system. In newer communities, newer water provision systems must be dug into the ground. The piping is made of different material; the sink fixtures reflect a different style. But the living water and its accessibility to the thirsty human soul—that’s the whole goal of any religious structure, any spiritual activity. These are delivery systems which mustn’t be confused with that which they deliver. The point is getting human beings to drink deeply of Living Water—not to focus overmuch on the delivery system itself. Make sense?

The Specificity of Love

2008-08-30T14:16:00.005-06:00

Some of us struggle from time to time to grasp the specificity of God's love. Sure, we acknowledge that "God is love" (1John 4:8). Our hopes are pinned on this, our ethics shaped by this. But let's press it a bit further: we may know God is love, that God loves people generally, but how sure are we that God loves us specifically? I'm talking here not about our faith, but more about our feelings (can Presbyterians do that?!). How sure are we that God loves us personally in a detailed, tailor-made, specific way?

I believe that tremendous growth in Christ occurs as we experience the "16 inch drop" from head to heart, when we go beyond knowing about God's love in our minds to feeling God's love in our hearts. Let me share one such example from my life.

Almost 20 years ago, while in my first quarter at seminary, I found myself plunged into an 18-month depression. Mine manifested itself in feelings of low self-worth, in recriminating thoughts from my past, and a gnawing guilt. As I began to see the contours of my depression, particularly my struggles with guilty feelings over my pre-Christian past (none of it terribly spectacular in hindsight, but troubling to me then, nonetheless), I found a very helpful book in the seminary library (Bruce Narramore's No Condemnation, still in print). It was one of those books that, thumbing through it in the library stacks, I knew I needed to own. I'm a marker of books and this was one which seemed perfectly suited to my needs. I asked the librarian about the book and whether it could be ordered and purchased. She believed not. I was sorely disappointed and trudged home, all the while praying and asking for God's help in my struggles. As I mounted the outdoor stairs to our second floor apartment, musing on this book, my gaze fell through the parted curtains of the unit below. Through the window, on a coffee table, beneath a light, I could see clearly a copy of Narramore's book! I rushed down the steps, knocked on the door, and my neighbor, Ron, a doctoral student in psychology, told me he had just purchased the book on special order from the seminary bookstore! I was overwhelmed and rushed to order the book myself. As I expected, it proved to be an indispensable navigational tool as I journeyed through my depression and into fresh discoveries of God's very specific love for me.

It was a powerful reminder then (and still today) of how God keeps in step with us. God knows us specifically, names us, cherishes us, and can provide for us in ways that are unique to our needs. God's love is not some generic, yellow-label, "Kirkland brand" love. God's love is not a one-size fits all kind of love. It's tailor-made. And when we experience this, "God is love" takes on a whole new meaning. How have you experienced God's specific love for you lately?

The Parable of the Trees

2008-08-15T09:35:00.003-06:00

“Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or take the path that sinners tread, or sit in the seat of scoffers; But their delight is in the law of the LORD, And on his law they meditate day and night. They are like trees planted by streams of water, Which yield their fruit in its season, And their leaves do not wither. In all they do, they prosper.”
--Psalm 1:1-3 NRSV

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.” --John 15:1-5 NRSV

I have two cottonwood trees growing in my backyard and they’ve got me worried. They’re now taller than our two-story house and in many ways, that’s good. They provide greenery and shade, some welcome relief in the hot afternoon sun. But what’s got me worried is that much of their root system is visible on the grass beneath them! Big bulky roots now snake across the lawn and make for difficult mowing. I’m concerned because these roots don’t seem deep enough to provide for the stability of these tall trees. I’m worried that one of these days, when the Chinook winds howl out of Eldorado Canyon, those trees will topple right onto our house.

I’m no arborist, no tree expert. But I’m guessing the cottonwoods in the Rock Creek subdivision struggle for stability. You see, we are notorious here for our Bentonite clay soil, which makes it tough for things to grow. I suspect the roots of these trees go where the water is—on the surface, rather than at the depths. I asked my dad, a much smarter man than I am when it comes to these things, and he had a novel suggestion: “why don’t you consider digging postholes [long cylindrical holes] next to the trunks of the trees and fill them with small rocks. That way you can water the holes and send the moisture beneath the surface. The roots will know where this moisture is and move deeper to get it.” That seemed like a lot of work to me! But his reasoning made sense: the roots go where the nutrients are; if the moisture and nutrients are shallow, they set themselves down there. If these good things lie deeper, the roots of the trees will be forced to go deeper to get the feeding they need. And hopefully, when this happens, the trees will become more stable, more able to endure the harsh conditions of Colorado's Front Range. Does this make sense?

In the two Bible passages above, discipleship is compared to a tree and a grapevine. In order to derive the nutrients needed, the tree and the vine-branches need to be plugged down deeply into the source of life. In Psalm 1, this is the water of God’s word. In this case, a firm rooting in God’s revealed will grants life and stability to the believer. In John 15, Jesus likens his followers to branches of a grapevine: provided they stay rooted firmly in him, the true vine, they will derive the life and strength they need to bear fruit—lives of faithfulness that reflect Christ’s love to the world. If the tree is not planted near the river of water, if the branch does not abide securely in the vine, their lives become unstable and unfruitful. They wither and die.

There comes a time in a disciple’s life, indeed, in a congregation’s life, when the roots are called to go deeper. They’re called to press down beneath the surface to find nourishment. To stay at the surface is to be in jeopardy, to become unstable, ultimately to be fruitless. To get those roots to go deeper is tough; it may involve pruning the branches; it may mean a painful posthole needs to be dug. But the goal is vitality and in God the Master Arborist’s hands the outcome is joyful, fulfilling life.

I wonder: how might the Lord be calling us these days to sink our roots deeper?

The Appeal of The Shack

2008-08-13T17:26:00.002-06:00

I continue to ponder the curious appeal of The Shack. What is it exactly about this book that seems to capture people? As I mentioned in the last entry, the book is not particularly well-written--it's certainly not an Anne Rice, Susan Howatch, Anne Lamott, or Walter Wangerin-style piece of fiction. It doesn't have the thoughtfulness or theological substance of C.S. Lewis or N.T. Wright or Eugene Peterson. So what's the appeal? Why do I continue to be drawn to it and why does its dialog refresh and renew me? I can think of several reasons why this book might be causing a stir.

The Power of Story
It may be a postmodern truism, but story or narrative seems to be the preferred vehicle for communication today. However, by contrast, much theological truth in contemporary pulpits and ministries comes to us in linear, logical fashion: sermons with numbered points, alliterative subpoints, and the like. I know. I've done it. The tight, reasoned logic of truth well-outlined can be very comforting and attractive--at least to the preacher! But what about to the listener? Truth at right angles, truth that matches up perfectly by number and letter, that truth can be dry and airless and uninspiring. There's no mystery, no awe, no sense of the sublime or transcendent. This truth has little power to move us. But consider Scripture: the best teaching in the Bible comes to us in story-form: parables, narrative, history. God's truth isn't revealed in an outline or a series of points delivered from on high, nor is it given as a set of theological doctrines carved in stone. Biblical truth comes to us primarily through the unfolding of a grand drama of love lost and regained. It's epic and captivating. The Shack may not be great fiction, but it is story nonetheless and it begins and evolves right where we live: in the challenges and tragedies of this life. Truth in the Bible is often sung, spun, or unfolded--not argued, reasoned, or taught. Those of us who preach and teach: let us listen!

The Reassurance of Relationship
Along with story, the Bible speaks primarily through relationship: it tells us of a God of relationship (the Trinity) who risks all in creating human beings to love and cherish. Bearing God's image, we are made for relationship, saved for relationship, and we will be resurrected for relationship: with God, with each other, and with ourselves. The time Mack spends in the Shack with God is all about a relationship renewed. We learn that it isn't airtight doctrine that's ultimately important. It's not even righteous behavior or obedience. What is emphasized in the Shack is trusting relationship: do we dare believe God loves us passionately? Will we trust this indwelling God in all we do? It's story, not systematic theology, which has the power to convey the transforming truth of relationship. And this is why many of us like The Shack. Perhaps we've made this religion thing too complicated!

Truth in Surprising Form
I don't know about you, but I find that some of my best times with God come when I don't plan for them! I build the altar of devotion in the morning, with serious Bible reading and prayer--and then the fire of God comes down somewhere else: in a bike ride, in a sunset, in a piece of music or art. When this happens, I'm reminded that I do not manage my relationship with God; I don't conjure up God with my religious ritual. Instead, God graciously meets me in all places and at all times--whether "spiritual" or not! The question is: do I have eyes to see him? Sometimes I find that I can read the Bible with teeth gritted, doing it because it's good for me, because I need it, because I should. It has all the joy and wonder of taking my daily multivitamin. But reading a novel? Hey, that's my time--I'm not on the clock. I'm relaxed, I'm kicking back...and whammo, God meets me! I think our guard can be up when we get into the routine of religious ritual: we're primed for a preconceived way of perceiving God. But when God meets us "off the clock", that's a different story. All of of a sudden, everything's changed: God is somehow bigger, more fun, more present, more real. Reading The Shack isn't easy or even necessarily pleasant; but it's fiction and our usual religious expectations may be relaxed. And then God is free to meet us in unexpected ways.

What Do YOU think?
A blog is not a one-way piece of communication. You've heard from me. Now I'd like to hear from you. If you've read The Shack, why do you think it's appealing to people? What itch does it seem to scratch? And what can we who lead in churches learn from this? How can we adjust the way we communicate to take the unchanging gospel to a changing world?

Shack Attack!

2008-08-04T16:04:00.006-06:00

It's a New York Times bestseller. It currently has 1.1 million copies in print. It's spent over 22 weeks on USA Today's Top 150 bestsellers list. And it's self-published. By a Canadian former pastor. Who was turned down by several Christian publishing houses. It's religious fiction of a different stripe. It's William P. Young's The Shack, taking churches and our broader culture by storm, it seems. It's irritating irascible theological conservatives. It's grating on the literary nerves of elitist bookish types. And it's helping people understand more of God's love in ways that are hard to describe.

I just finished the book, reading it on the recommendation of several church members. I found myself caught off guard and captivated: not because it's terribly well-written (it isn't), nor because it's theologically airtight (it's not; nor is it meant to be). I was and am still captivated by it because its dialog has helped me hear God in a fresh way, to more easily experience his love for me and all of us. When a book causes me to pray more freely, worship more joyfully, and feel more loved, well, I pay attention.

Here's the basic plot without any spoilers, I hope: Mackenzie Allen Phillips is a father of three children, the youngest of whom is kidnapped and brutally murdered during a camping trip. Devastated by the loss and on the edge of despair (as well as leaving the faith), "Mack" is summoned by a mysterious letter, signed by "Papa" (his wife's name for God) to the Shack, the scene of his daughter's murder. What transpires in the Shack is riveting: a conversation and time spent with the triune God, revealed in quite unusual ways. The tender dialog, the pointed questions on suffering, tragedy, faith, love, and hope are biblically resonant, without being preachy or pedantic. The recasting of biblical truth in non-linear and winsome ways has the potential to take well-known (and well-worn) truths about God and move them beyond our minds and into our hearts. That's what seems to be happening for readers of The Shack.

For me, it has felt like a spiritual chiropractic adjustment: prolonged sitting in the chair of the religious professional has given me a bit of a crick in my system, a certain stenosis of the spirit. The Shack has seemed to crack or adjust things for me. I feel curiously realigned: more limber in my prayer life, my worship more genuine, less forced. I do believe my belovedness by God seems more and more plausible, to my heart and spirit--and not just to my mind.

So now I'm returning to The Shack. I am taking its conversation between God and Mack and digesting it slowly, savoring it and journaling about it, particularly seeking to pay attention to what it evokes--or even provokes--in me.

If you can shuck the mantle of any literary snobbery, if you can humble yourself to this latest form of popular Christianity, if you can read with the eyes of a contemplative and not a systematic theologian, you might just be blessed by The Shack. I was and am.

For more go to:

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2008/julyweb-only/128-41.0.html
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2008/august/5.44.html

A Silent Ministry--to Cyclists

2008-07-17T14:01:00.002-06:00

I'm grateful to a churchmember who shared with me what I think is a great article blending many of the loves that motivate this blog. It's a "crossroads" article for sure: an intersection of simple quiet Christian ministry and the sport of cycling. I find it particularly helpful in this time when our church is wrestling with ways to be missional from the grassroots up. There are so many ways we can make Christ's love real--and here's one. Hope you enjoy it!

A secret refuge

In a 'silent ministry,' church offers bed, shower, kitchen to exhausted cyclists crossing country

By Kathy Hanks - The Hutchinson News - khanks@hutchnews.com

For years, Zion Lutheran Church has kept a secret.

But that's how silent ministries work.

During the summer months, families in the neighborhood might have noticed bedraggled strangers showing up at the red brick building. They'd arrive on bikes during the early evenings. Then leave early the next morning, appearing clean and refreshed.

What many people don't know is that for the past 36 years the small church at the corner of 11th Avenue and Washington has been a welcome refuge for exhausted cyclists crossing the country.

Listed on adventurecycling.com, the church basement is certainly not a five-star hotel. But the bike hostel offers a roof over cyclists' heads, air-conditioning, beds with clean sheets, a shower and even a kitchen to cook a hot meal.

Reservations aren't necessary. All a cyclist passing through Hutchinson must do is stop in at Harley's Bicycles and pick up the key.

The church charges nothing for the service, though some leave a donation. All cyclists have free rein of the building.

"There is definitely open trust," said Harley Phillips, an avid cyclist and former owner of the bike shop that shares his name, and a cradle member of Zion Lutheran Church. "It's a no-pressure thing. You come and go, and do what you want."

The silent ministry began during the nation's Bicentennial Celebration, which inspired a bike-across-the-nation movement.

The church is five miles off the transcontinental trail, and so is the bike shop. Because there aren't too many bike repair shops directly on the route, Phillips said the cyclists would stop in. At the time, the church had a two-story parsonage next door that wasn't used during the summer. The congregation decided to open it up for the travelers. They added more beds to the upstairs bedroom, and the church ladies agreed to wash the linens.

"It turned out to be a wonderful outreach for the church," Phillips said.

When an addition to the church was planned, the parsonage was torn down. Now, the cyclists stay in the church basement.

The Rev. Henry J. Hartman said the church was allowing the Holy Spirit to work through its members by touching the many lives of people they didn't even know.

"This is what I call a silent ministry," he said. "And we perform other acts of God's love that others don't know."

The congregation's willingness to open its building has touched numerous strangers. Most they never meet. However, many sign the guest book, leaving addresses from all over the globe.

The role the church plays is more a spiritual thing than religious, Phillips thought.

"The Holy Spirit moves in strange ways," he said. If visitors happen to be there on Sundays, they are welcome to attend the service. But it's not mandatory.

"We've had very little abuse over the years," Hartman said.

There are tons of stories, Phillips said.

Once, a cyclist had to stay a week at the church because he broke the frame of his bike. After completing every "honey-do" the church ladies could think of, he went to the unemployment line and found a couple of days' work to stay busy.

Another time, the church was planning a baby shower and a cyclist's clothes were scattered around the fellowship hall. Quickly, they were moved behind a curtain.

"There is uniqueness about the riders. They are all terrifically different, yet they have one common denominator. They are all self-reliant; consequentially they will deal with anything."

Such as rain, Kansas winds, searing heat, hills, mountains - all that and more as they ride across the country.

"They teach us," Phillips said.

Grace from Beyond the Grave: The Wisdom of Tony Snow

2008-07-12T19:36:00.005-06:00

This evening a friend shared with me a marvelous, moving article written by former White House press secretary Tony Snow, who died earlier today of cancer. I had no idea he was a man of such strong faith and that he wrote the article below almost exactly a year ago.

Because I think it's so good, I've reprinted it in full, from the Christianity Today website (http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2007/july/25.30.html?start=1). I hope you'll find it as moving and helpful as I have. Somehow, coming from a man with terminal cancer, it has an integrity and authority that other such messages, written by healthier people, tend to lack. Please feel free to forward this link to anyone else who might benefit.

Cancer's Unexpected Blessings

When you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things change.

Tony Snow | posted 7/20/2007 02:30PM

Commentator and broadcaster Tony Snow announced that he had colon cancer in 2005. Following surgery and chemo-therapy, Snow joined the Bush administration in April 2006 as press secretary. Unfortunately, on March 23 Snow, 51, a husband and father of three, announced that the cancer had recurred, with tumors found in his abdomen—leading to surgery in April, followed by more chemotherapy. Snow went back to work in the White House Briefing Room on May 30, but resigned August 31. CT asked Snow what spiritual lessons he has been learning through the ordeal.

Blessings arrive in unexpected packages—in my case, cancer.

Those of us with potentially fatal diseases—and there are millions in America today—find ourselves in the odd position of coping with our mortality while trying to fathom God's will. Although it would be the height of presumption to declare with confidence What It All Means, Scripture provides powerful hints and consolations.

The first is that we shouldn't spend too much time trying to answer the why questions: Why me? Why must people suffer? Why can't someone else get sick? We can't answer such things, and the questions themselves often are designed more to express our anguish than to solicit an answer.

I don't know why I have cancer, and I don't much care. It is what it is—a plain and indisputable fact. Yet even while staring into a mirror darkly, great and stunning truths begin to take shape. Our maladies define a central feature of our existence: We are fallen. We are imperfect. Our bodies give out.

But despite this—because of it—God offers the possibility of salvation and grace. We don't know how the narrative of our lives will end, but we get to choose how to use the interval between now and the moment we meet our Creator face-to-face.

Second, we need to get past the anxiety. The mere thought of dying can send adrenaline flooding through your system. A dizzy, unfocused panic seizes you. Your heart thumps; your head swims. You think of nothingness and swoon. You fear partings; you worry about the impact on family and friends. You fidget and get nowhere.

To regain footing, remember that we were born not into death, but into life—and that the journey continues after we have finished our days on this earth. We accept this on faith, but that faith is nourished by a conviction that stirs even within many nonbelieving hearts—an intuition that the gift of life, once given, cannot be taken away. Those who have been stricken enjoy the special privilege of being able to fight with their might, main, and faith to live—fully, richly, exuberantly—no matter how their days may be numbered.

Third, we can open our eyes and hearts. God relishes surprise. We want lives of simple, predictable ease—smooth, even trails as far as the eye can see—but God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with twists and turns. He places us in predicaments that seem to defy our endurance and comprehension—and yet don't. By his love and grace, we persevere. The challenges that make our hearts leap and stomachs churn invariably strengthen our faith and grant measures of wisdom and joy we would not experience otherwise.

'You Have Been Called'

Picture yourself in a hospital bed. The fog of anesthesia has begun to wear away. A doctor stands at your feet; a loved one holds your hand at the side. "It's cancer," the healer announces.

The natural reaction is to turn to God and ask him to serve as a cosmic Santa. "Dear God, make it all go away. Make everything simpler." But another voice whispers: "You have been called." Your quandary has drawn you closer to God, closer to those you love, closer to the issues that matter—and has dragged into insignificance the banal concerns that occupy our "normal time."

There's another kind of response, although usually short-lived—an inexplicable shudder of excitement, as if a clarifying moment of calamity has swept away everything trivial and tinny, and placed before us the challenge of important questions.

The moment you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things change. You discover that Christianity is not something doughy, passive, pious, and soft. Faith may be the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. But it also draws you into a world shorn of fearful caution. The life of belief teems with thrills, boldness, danger, shocks, reversals, triumphs, and epiphanies. Think of Paul, traipsing though the known world and contemplating trips to what must have seemed the antipodes (Spain), shaking the dust from his sandals, worrying not about the morrow, but only about the moment.

There's nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue—for it is through selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and spirits the most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, and the most we ever could do.

Finally, we can let love change everything. When Jesus was faced with the prospect of crucifixion, he grieved not for himself, but for us. He cried for Jerusalem before entering the holy city. From the Cross, he took on the cumulative burden of human sin and weakness, and begged for forgiveness on our behalf.

We get repeated chances to learn that life is not about us—that we acquire purpose and satisfaction by sharing in God's love for others. Sickness gets us partway there. It reminds us of our limitations and dependence. But it also gives us a chance to serve the healthy. A minister friend of mine observes that people suffering grave afflictions often acquire the faith of two people, while loved ones accept the burden of two people's worries and fears.

Learning How to Live

Most of us have watched friends as they drifted toward God's arms not with resignation, but with peace and hope. In so doing, they have taught us not how to die, but how to live. They have emulated Christ by transmitting the power and authority of love.

I sat by my best friend's bedside a few years ago as a wasting cancer took him away. He kept at his table a worn Bible and a 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer. A shattering grief disabled his family, many of his old friends, and at least one priest. Here was a humble and very good guy, someone who apologized when he winced with pain because he thought it made his guest uncomfortable. He retained his equanimity and good humor literally until his last conscious moment. "I'm going to try to beat [this cancer]," he told me several months before he died. "But if I don't, I'll see you on the other side."

His gift was to remind everyone around him that even though God doesn't promise us tomorrow, he does promise us eternity—filled with life and love we cannot comprehend—and that one can in the throes of sickness point the rest of us toward timeless truths that will help us weather future storms.

Through such trials, God bids us to choose: Do we believe, or do we not? Will we be bold enough to love, daring enough to serve, humble enough to submit, and strong enough to acknowledge our limitations? Can we surrender our concern in things that don't matter so that we might devote our remaining days to things that do?

When our faith flags, he throws reminders in our way. Think of the prayer warriors in our midst. They change things, and those of us who have been on the receiving end of their petitions and intercessions know it.

It is hard to describe, but there are times when suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel a surge of the Spirit. Somehow you just know: Others have chosen, when talking to the Author of all creation, to lift us up—to speak of us!

This is love of a very special order. But so is the ability to sit back and appreciate the wonder of every created thing. The mere thought of death somehow makes every blessing vivid, every happiness more luminous and intense. We may not know how our contest with sickness will end, but we have felt the ineluctable touch of God.

What is man that Thou art mindful of him? We don't know much, but we know this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter how bleak or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us, each and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable place—in the hollow of God's hand.

What I'm Reading These Days, Part 2

2008-06-30T15:41:00.004-06:00

Well, as promised, I plan to tell you about another book I've finished recently, Jim & Casper Go to Church by Jim Henderson and Matt Casper (Tyndale, 2007). This is an intriguing book: it pairs a pastor-evangelist-church consultant with a professing atheist as they travel America and visit well-known as well as obscure evangelical churches. Most of the book is a debrief of their experiences; we get to eavesdrop on a conversation that is direct, respectful, and sometimes, painful. This is refreshing: too often, especially in church circles, we tend to beat around the bush, avoid awkwardness, and put a good spin on our real opinions. Here, there are no holds barred, particularly as Henderson (the Christian) creates a safe space for Casper to share his thoughts in straightforward, if brutally honest, ways.

You may remember Henderson from earlier news reports: he's the Christian who successfully bid for a man's soul on EBay! What I like about Henderson is that he models a genuine, dialogical approach to evangelism. Rather than telling, he asks. He listens. He even apologizes for historical Christian abuses and insensitivities, where appropriate. Above all, he stresses the importance of honest relationship, what he calls "defending the space", that sacred space of trust between two people genuinely seeking to know each other. Too often this space has been crushed or obliterated by Christians heaven-bent on saving souls, rather than doing the hard work of relationship, with all its messy engagement.

Jim and Casper go to eleven churches, to be exact. Their visits include the famous megachurches of America (Saddleback, Willow Creek, and Joel Osteen's Lakewood Church), the hip emerging churches (like Erwin McManus' Mosaic, Imago, and Mars Hill), some older mainline churches (like First Presbyterian of River Forest, IL--ouch), and at least one mega racial-ethnic church (T.D. Jakes' The Potter's House in Dallas). It's great to listen in on their dialogue, particularly Casper's opinions. He's very alert (allergic?) to showiness, shallowness, and pretense of any sort--possibly reflecting his age (30s). He repeatedly asks about "action"--how are churches and Christians seeking to serve the poor, the homeless, the needy? He's not as impressed by a fancy building or state-of-the-art technology or music as he is by humble service in the community. Through the course of the book, Jim and Casper help us glimpse some of our blindspots (forced friendliness in our greeting of visitors, manipulative displays of emotion in sermons, predictable song pairings, etc) and they show us the importance of a Christianity that serves, rather than shouts.

Jim and Casper Go to Church is a great read for Christians who've either purposely or accidentally stayed too long in the Christian ghetto. It's refreshing to hear how we're viewed from outside and to have a book like this model for us ways of conversing that are real and not manipulative. One thing each of us churchgoers might consider: why not follow the authors' lead and invite a non-Christian to church solely for the purpose of evaluating how we're doing? Henderson did this (and even compensated the atheists!). Then humbly ask our visitors for their honest response. Could be insightful. My review of the book: Two thumbs up! Pair it with another of my favorites on culturally-appropriate evangelism, Finding Common Ground by Tim Downs, and you've got some challenging, inspiring reads.