no more rewritten... kind of

I'm starting to be better able at seeing seasons in my life begin and end, which is actually pretty cool. In the past three years since I've jumped into full time ministry, I've entered and exited a season of confessions, then into a season of some of those assumptions being rewritten into a better set of questions, and now into season of learning how to lead like God has led me.

Bye bye, rewritten. Thank you God for the lessons you taught me there. I'm looking forward to what you have next.

big stories.

I've been silent on here for a long time.

On more than a few occasions, I've visited my own blog, and was tempted to just pound something out for the sake of regular contribution. But I didn't.

But now I have something to write about.

Our stories are too small.

What do I mean by "our stories?" I mean, generally speaking, our stories about God: what he is doing in our life, in the church, in the world, etc.

What do I mean by "too small?" Perhaps it would be better to start by explaining what I do not mean. What I do not mean is: how our stories are packaged or marketed, how they are presented, how many people hear them, how many dollars are raised in light of them, or even how many conversions they produce.

What I mean by "too small" is this: for most Christians in most places in America, our stories are too small in terms of how intimate they are.

That's right: the more intimate our stories are, the bigger they are.

Let's play this game again.

What do I mean by "intimate?" I mean like God speaking to Adam, to Abraham, to Isaac, to Jacob, to Moses. I mean like God moving in the heart of David to produce Psalms. I mean like God speaking to the prophets who were then so moved to stand before kings domestic and foreign demanding their repentance in God's name.

I mean like God speaking to John the Baptist to go out into the desert and baptize people, making the way for the Messiah. I mean like God speaking to Jesus on the mountain of Transfiguration.

I mean like Jesus appearing to Saul on the road to Damascus, to John on the island of Patmos. That's what I mean by intimate.

Perhaps now it is easy to see the link between the level of intimacy of our stories and their "bigness." But it bears mention:

What do I mean by our stories being "big?"

Very simply: bigger means more awe. The bigger a story is, the more awe it inspires in the listener, and the more capable they are of seeing the Author behind the story.

Our stories are too small here in America. We need bigger stories. We need stories of God intimately speaking to and moving in the hearts of ordinary men in women in ways that inspire awe and sight.

And also: we need to stop wrapping old stories in new trappings. But I'm not writing about that right now.

Why do I say that our stories are too small? Well, for several reasons. First, my experience with people tells me this. Most of us can't hear God (at least very well, or in a way that is recognizable and familiar), and can't sense or articulate what he's up to in our lives. The evidence? Well, put simply: how many people do you know who are taking calculated, intentional, and often risky steps of faith to new depths of vulnerability, sacrificial obedience, and love in light of how they claim God is leading them? I think most of us couldn't come up with 3 names... let alone one.

Second, our stories get dwarfed by our world's stories. More present to our minds than the intimate voice of God is our economic crisis, the challenges of Darwinism and evolutionary findings, sexual orientations, the environment, pluralism in the media and culture in general, the polarization of the political parties, and so on and so forth. These are the big stories. These are the compelling stories. These are the stories people read, talk about, discuss, and orient their lives in light of. And for some reason, we think that for our stories to compete, we have to translate them into to magical prayer cloths, 7 steps to guarunteed life change, prosperity messages, or otherworldly phenomenon that more closely resemble ghost stories than God stories.

I want a story about there being enough bread to feed thousands of hungry people. I want a story about a burning bush. I want a story about an oppressive giant falling at the hands of the meek. I want a story about a man toppling the religious system of his day in favor of God's presence and mercy. I want a story about a vision that gives people hope in the midst of times that may require their very lives. And I want to hear those stories become commonplace among the people of God... so commonplace that a world cannot ignore them, caricature them, parody them, or explain them away.

And I want those stories to bring a sterile, stubborn, stiff-necked church to her knees in repentance, at the sight of the nearness of the glory of God, the risen Christ, and the present Spirit.

So we are left with the question... no make that questions, plural:

1. Does God still speak to men and women in the way that he did with the people in the Bible?

2. Was there some sort of characteristic intrinsic to those people--those "heroes of the faith"--that we just don't have anymore?

3. If the answer to #1 is "yes," and the answer to #2 is "no," then how do we hear the voice of God in intimate ways that produce big stories?

approachable

This is another post inspired by one of our classes here at Prairie Lakes Church for which I'm writing the curriculum. This class is on loving people. The chosen text is written by one of the most influential professor's I've had, Craig Blomberg. His book that we're using is entitled Contagious Holiness: Jesus' Meals with Sinners. From this book I'm reminded of a story in the Gospels where a prostitute enters a meal Jesus was sharing with his peers--men of stature all--and the woman weeps at Jesus' feet, wiping them with her tears, drying them with her hair.

And it wasn't like Jesus preached this killer sermon or wrote this powerful song or anything. He's just sitting there.

Maybe he had talked with this woman personally at one time. Maybe she had caught something he had said while standing in the crowd. Maybe she watched him deal devastating blow after blow to the religious leaders who had for so long ruled over her with a condemning eye. Maybe she was inspired by his courage as he preached the same message, undeterred by the threats on his life, and followed up his words with his actions seamlessly.

Or maybe she had only heard rumors about this man, and they were enough for the Holy Spirit to crack open her heart to the kindness of a God who was about to sacrifice his Son on her behalf.

And I think:

Am I like Jesus in that way?

So I pray:

God, make me like that. Make me more effective in the lives of those who are living as your enemies than those who claim allegiance to your kingdom. Let the love that I live by inspire repentance in those who have yet to repent. Give me the courage to stand against the attacks of the enemy that come in the form of "religious" conviction. Let me garner my testimony and stake my reputation on the stories from profane lips rather than praise from a sterilized tongue.

Even if it costs me my life.

Even if it costs me my life.

needles and babies

I've been meaning to write about this for sometime now, because it struck me when I heard it. But, the holidays being what they are as a local church employee, I have had to wait for time again to write.

I'm in a small group that's made up of married couples at a similar life stage to Erin and me. And, as it turns out, people in our life stage crank out kids like they're going out of style. So, about every month or so, we cancel small group in lieu of heading to the hospital to welcome a newborn into the world. It's pretty great.

One newborn in our group has been around now for about 8 weeks or so. She now is a regular fixture at our group meetings, as her parents bring her along. During one of our final meetings before Christmas, she came in with two bandages on her legs; one on each of her thighs. She had gotten some vaccines earlier in the day.

Of course, her parents told the story of being in the room and having to help hold her down as the nurse gave her the shots. As I was listening I began visualize myself in that situation someday--having to hold my infant to the table as the nurse pokes needles into his or her legs. That stuff doesn't make me uneasy; in fact, I think I would face something like that pretty well. After all, it's just another part of life.

And that struck me. It's a part of life.

Welcome to the world, little infant, where you are completely vulnerable. Welcome to this world, little one, where pain is a reality, woven into the very fabric of life. Welcome to a place where you need to be protected from disease, or you will most certainly die. Welcome to a life where you won't always understand the pain you experience, even when you are an adult.

Welcome to a life where you will always need someone to save you from something.

There are evidences of God everywhere, aren't there? Even in pain.

purpose-driven inauguration?

Apparently I'm in the mood to be a socio-religio-political commentator these days. I wrote about shoe-throwing, and now I'm writing about Obama's choice for giving the inaugural prayer of blessing, the purpose-driven man himself, Rick Warren.

The controversy centers around Warren's support of Proposition 8, the California ballot proposition that eliminated the right of same-sex couples to marry in the state of California, and provided that only a marriage between a man and a woman was recognized in that state.

People of influence and education are chiming in from all over the place on this one, to which the most recent politico.com's "Arena" section testifies (don't know how long that link will be good... if it's a different subject by the time you read this post, sorry bout that). Guess I'm going to throw my own two cents in.

Maybe three cents. Or maybe just one, depending on your perspective, and the economy.

Here you go:

I'm struck at just how controversial this choice is in the eyes of so many Americans.

I'm struck at how many of our educated leaders view Obama so negatively for making this choice.

I'm struck at the level of disdain people have for Rick Warren.

And I'm struck at how personally disconnected we are from all of these people, yet how confident we are of our opinions about them, about what they do, and about what we believe they stand for.

Now, I'm not an all-out disciple of Rick Warren. I do think it's apparent that God has blessed him and his ministry. I'm glad that God has used his book and his influence to make the Christian life more accessible and clear for many people. But, systematizing life with God through Jesus into predictable purposes has its drawbacks, to be sure.

And I don't think that Obama is America's savior, in any sense of that word. Many self-proclaimed "progressives" are already using the term "transformational" to describe him and his pending presidential term. While I understand how and why they use the term to describe the president-elect, I also am keenly aware that transformation at its purest and deepest level happens only through interacting with the One Triune God. I, for one, will endeavor not to conflate the two usages.

But it's just not as easy for me to come to the same conclusions as others have about this decision and about these men. Commentators, bloggers, professors, and writers of all kinds are supremely confident of a few things. Apparently:

1. This is Obama being a politician, pure and simple--pandering to the disenchanted social and political right by choosing one of their own to pray at his inauguration.

Really? We're sure that's what this is?

2. This Rick Warren guy hates and oppresses homosexuals, because he supported Proposition 8.

Really? It's that simple?

Let me tell you what inspired me about Barack Obama. He never boiled complicated issues down to anything less than being complicated, no matter how controversial the issue was, and no matter how much people from the left or right baited him into doing so. This man always was able to articulate why things are so complex and what the differing sides of the issues were, without the use of straw-man arguments, judgment, condemnation, hate, or one-ups-manship. That takes character.

And while I certainly don't agree with where he stands on some of our most hotly debated moral issues, I always appreciated his treatment of those issues--how he talked about them, answered questions about them, and dialogued about them.

Now, for some of you, you may think that is insignificant. Perhaps you would respond with something like: "Yeah, but the bottom line is... _______."

If you're on the right in this whole inauguration thing, the bottom line is that Obama is just trying to placate you by choosing Rick Warren to pray. And perhaps you even think that Rick is in sin for accepting the invitation (depends on how far to the right you sit, I guess).

If you're on the left, the bottom line is that Obama is undercutting your fight for justice and equality by inviting an oppressor to oppress in God's name.

But I just don't think things are that simple (and apparently Barack Obama doesn't think think things are that simple, either).

Now, if my writing above makes you wonder where I stand on the issue behind this controversy, let me be clear--for your benefit, not for mine: I believe that God defines marriage clearly in his written Word, the Bible, and that He defines it as being exclusively between a man and a woman, wherein all sexual intimacy is not only permitted but gifted and encouraged.

But maybe it doesn't matter what I believe, at least as it relates to how I am perceived--both by my peers and by my culture. Because what I am (rather fearfully, but faithfully) becoming aware of is this:

If I don't provide an adequate amount of religio-political zeal for a ballot measure like Proposition 8, I'll probably be labeled by some of my peers as "doctrinally weak", "waffling", or "afraid to take a stand."

But I am much more passionate about knowing people who are homosexual, loving them, and, Spirit-permitting, sharing with them what I believe. If they are going to be changed, it will be the Spirit that does so, and does so through me and others. Which makes me much less zealous bout a ballot measure. Why can't those things go together like peanut butter and jelly, you ask? Try holding up a pro-Proposition 8 sign while you're sitting at Starbucks trying to have a spiritual conversation with your gay friend. Doesn't really mix, does it?

But if I don't define justice as supporting state-recognized same-sex marriages, I'll be labeled by many influential cultural communities as an "oppressor", or as "hateful", or (dare I say it?) "non-progressive."

But I am not content to remain silent on what I believe, nor am I willing to be labeled an oppressor because I am unwilling to define justice according to someone else's moral convictions.

And so I find myself in what I am sure was a very, very familiar place to Jesus:

I wonder who will crucify me first.

shoe-throwing

Of course, by now, all of us have heard and seen footage of the now infamous shoe-throwing incident at President Bush's recent Baghdad press conference. But I heard something about this incident on the radio this morning on the radio that struck me--something beyond the tired talking points of "what a picture of President Bush's legacy" and "it's an exclamation point on Bush's failed efforts in Iraq."

The program I was listening to was a news program on NPR. They were interviewing a Lebanese reporter. Now, if you know anything about international relations, you know that the U.S. and Lebanon haven't exactly had a great history with one another, much less a good relationship today. So I was really intrigued at what this Lebanese reporter said.

As this reporter recounted how much the Arab world was heralding this act, he paused to give a different view, citing another widely circulated Lebanese reporter, and said two things that caught my attention:

1. Much of the Arab world got so caught up in the imagery of that press conference that they failed to see its significance: mainly, that further talks took place to bring clarity to U.S. withdrawal of troops from Iraq.

2. If the shoe had been thrown at Sadaam Hussein rather than at President Bush, the reporter, and the reporter's family and friends would have all faced the firing squad.

Sobering, especially coming from a Lebanese reporter.

Without a doubt, the war in Iraq has been costly--first, costly to the Iraqi people, who bore the devastating majority of casualties. Second, costly to the American people, who lost both the lives of troops and billions of dollars. And the pretenses that began the war proved to be false.

But personally, I can not throw the baby out with the bathwater by saying that the war in Iraq was a complete and utter mistake.

And while it is still not close to being stable, it sure is a lot closer than when free speech earned you, your wife, your kids, your friends, and your associates a bullet to the head.

the Bible, sola scriptura, and agnostic idolaters

I had a couple of conversations with two of my in-laws this week--the spouse of my wife's older brother, and the husband of my wife's twin sister. It's kinda fun being the token pastor in a family of church goers. It's kinda like "ask the pastor things that other pastors won't give you a straight answer on" at times, and I enjoy it.

The conversation that I had with my wife's sister's husband (does that make him my brother-in-law?) was about baptism. He was sprinkled as an infant in a Lutheran church, now attends a mainstream evangelical/Baptist church, and is looking to become a member. Of course, at his current church, they require baptism by immersion in order to become a member. So, he's been doing some researching about it, and I was one of his subjects of inquiry.

I had done some work last year or so on the history and theology of the practice of baptism as kind of a preemptive strike, per se, as my church is confronting some of the same issues. As you grow larger, and as more people from different backgrounds and traditions enter your church, you tend to become a little more centrist--clinging to the things that really do matter, and letting go of things that are just more peripheral.

Anyways, as I was sharing with him what I had written, I was reminded of why baptism is such a hot button, especially in a lot of evangelical circles. It's because of this thing called sola scriptura.

Sola scriptura is Latin for "Only Scripture." It was one of the tenets that led Martin Luther to separate himself from the Roman Catholic Church a few hundred years back, sparking the Protestant Reformation from which evangelicals today trace their roots. Sola scriptura states that the authority of the Bible and personal interaction with it should be held on the same level as the authority of the institutional church and church tradition.

Some evangelical circles (and Baptists in particular) take this principle to heart and, searching the Scriptures, find more evidence for practicing baptism by immersion on adult converts than they find evidence for sprinkling infants.

And that was significant for my brother-in-law. What he needed to know was this: he wasn't just brushing up against a different interpretation of a historical church practice; he was brushing up against a value that evangelicals cling to and hold dear: personally interacting and interpreting the Bible.

And, believe it or not, that story is just a set-up to what I really want to say.

There's something that is so beautiful, so valuable, so life-giving about searching the Scriptures freely and passionately, with the right tools, in a good community, with learned and mature believers, by the Spirit, and then submitting oneself to the chosen interpretation.

But: more and more of us dismiss that. Some of us even trample on that.

That makes me sound self-righteous, holier-than-thou, and maybe even insulated. I know. And I hate that perhaps that tone makes you dismiss what I am saying. But see for yourselves if it isn't true. See if what I'm describing doesn't accurately depict you, or those with whom you live life.

Here's what I see:

I see a growing generation of agnostic idolaters.

Yep. That sounds really harsh. But it gets even worse.

We are agnostic because we cry mystery too much--or, perhaps, we cry mystery where the Bible does not. Yes, that's more like it. When we are confronted with a clear biblical claim that goes against our own personal preference or a cultural value, we seem to shrug our shoulders and go our own way, bow to culture, or remain in some sort of nebulous grayness that is neither here nor there... and even consider ourselves pious for doing so.

We are idolaters because we sometimes put spiritual claims to our agnosticism, and in doing so, make God into our own image of him. For example: the Bible defines love, and gives many examples of what it is, and what it is not. But we--we use the phrase "my God is a loving God" to justify whatever behavior we choose. "My God is a loving God, so... (fill in the blank)." And yet, the Bible also states that God hates sin, and is very clear on what sin is as well.

And yet--and yet--we don't wrestle with those things. We don't go to the Scripture and search like we should. And if we do, and we see what the Scripture says, we don't sumbit ourselves to it. We worm our way around it, or make it say something the authors didn't intend, or say things like "Who's to say that your interpretation is right, and mine's wrong?" And agnosticism rears its ugly head once again, trumping sola scriptura and the beautiful life that God offers as we embrace and submit ourselves to it.

Some things are mysterious--like the depths of God's love, how all of God's attributes and perfections fit together and work together perfectly, or how God can prompt and move without cancelling the free and authentic choices of human beings. But other things are not.

There is a God, he can be known, and there is a devastating price to pay for crafting him in your own image.

But thank God that he is very skilled at breaking down the images that we create.

And I am no different. He's broken mine down before, and I pray that he continues to do it.

Please, God: break the image of my generation, so that we can see You for You, and not who we have created You to be.