For one or both of us? You be the judge. Or I will. If that's alright with you.

Start. Stop. Start. Stop. Great enthusiasm. Great apathy. Blog after blog after blog. Silence. It's the continuing saga of a would-be writer, I guess. I used to always say that I wanted to write a book. I had a very wise and slightly cynical friend of mine tell me emphatically that I didn't, in fact, want to write a book but rather to have written a book. Good call. It's like playing the guitar or getting in shape. I probably don't really desire to do either of those things, but I sure would like to be on the other end of the process of having done them.

But there's a lot in life that's like that. I don't want to work on my marriage, I want to have a great one. I don't want to feed the dog, but I sure do want the dog to be healthy and active. It's a trade off of sorts, although in the long run, probably not much of one.

It's a well worn cliche that life is a journey and the journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step and if you shoot for nothing you'll eventually hit it and all kinds of other "here and there" sayings that are locked and lost into our psyche. When I used to go see Phish all over the country, the travel was as much a part of the experience as anything. I remember driving across the country to the southern tip of Florida for the millenium. 12 folks in an RV for 10 days. Good times had as we sailed across the southern states taking in the scenes and drinking in the milestones... New Orleans, the mighty Mississip, the everglades... all regal in their splendor, and still only a stop on the way. The destination, had I been beamed from here to there, would have been great, but getting there and getting back are as intricately woven into the fabric of the experience as the experience itself.

Like I said, well worn and much travelled roads talking about the necessity of enjoying the road. But I started thinking about the inconsistency in my blogging. I haven't been motivated by them much. In fact, often times I read the blogs of my well spoken, well thought out friends and wish after wish that I could come up with such wonderful ideas and present them so clearly.

Jealousy is an ugly thing, and a dish best served to someone else.

And at the end of my pity party I came to realize that I've been going about this thing all wrong. The things I like best about the blogs of my friends, even the friends that I haven't met, is that it seems like I know them better through what they write. Their little posts and not so little posts and even their lengthy monologues seem real and authentic, like something out of a Garrison Keilor story where you know the characters and sense their personhood before you know their names or their story. The bloggers I love the best are the ones whose thoughts and words flow out of the core of who they are.

I guess I'm somewhat embarrassed to say that I'm often self-conscious about writing who I am and what I think about things. It just seems that I feel I have to write for someone else. I don't know why I think that, but I do. So I wondered how my voice (my blog voice that is) would sound different if I wrote like no one was ever going to read it. Someone who knows me well mentioned to me one time that if they only knew me through my blog, they would imagine me much differently than I actually am... or atleast they would imagine me much differently than they currently know me. Especially on issues regarding the Church and faith, they said that the "me" that they know from walking around and talking around is much different from the "me" that is sometimes represented.

Perhaps it's the ease of not having to look at someone face to face, or the safety of my laptop screen between the rest of the world and myself, but I find that's often the case. I'm a bold son of a gun on the instant messenger, I promise you that. But it's funny that they said the same thing about the apostle Paul. I've often remarked about how similar he and I are. Then again, not really.

So anyway, by way of the bullet point, a few clarifications that I feel are in order...

• I love the Church. Seriously, it's the best thing going. I think that too often I spend too much time raising questions about the "establishment" and not enough time celebrating the really good parts about it. For the sake of truthful representation, for every Ted Haggard piece I post, I need to post a piece about the Church being the truly restorative and wonderful thing that it is.
• I think that globally, per capita, Christians are the most generous, caring, and gracious demographic (so we're just a demographic now?) on the planet. When I think about the AIDS pandemic (it's the right word, but I don't like it. I just had to say that) in Africa, I think (without having any stats) that most of the hospitals and aid comes in one way or another from a Christ-follower with a passion. I think of orphanages, hosptials, engineers, farmers, and a whole host of other functions that Christians fill when they could be doing something else.
• I think Christians should do better. The hard part about that sentence is that I don't intend it as a comparison. I don't mean "Christians should do better than [insert demographic label here]" because for the most part, I think Christians do better. What I mean, generally speaking, is that there are still hurts, wounds, and tears out there. It's not that we don't do anything, it's that there's still more to do. I begin by looking in the mirror. Honestly, what keeps me from doing more? In one instance, I could do more financially, except that I am afraid that if I give more, I won't have enough for me. Christ said that wouldn't be the case (Matt 6). This is a real conviction for me, and I think that too often I spend time on this conviction without mentioning the first two convictions.

Every faith step I take leads me to another. That's the journey metaphor. If life is a journey, then it doesn't end. When I stop taking steps, then I stop being on a journey and start being at a destination. That's why I say the Church can do more. Bill Hybels often says that the Church is the hope of the world. I couldn't agree more. As far as Christians go, I'm fat and lazy. The only reason I say that is because when I close my eyes and dream, I know that I'm not yet where I should be or even where I could be. When I realize that, I'm not defeated or deflated, I'm motivated. I hear the voice of Father calling me forward again. It's uncomfortable and the more of "me" that I find, the more I realize that I want more of Christ.

So I'm grateful to be a part of something so amazing. It takes my breath away every time I hear about someone taking a first step or another step in faith. It takes my breath away because I can't think of one single time in my life where I've heard someone take a step of faith that cost them something and come back saying it wasn't worth it. Instead, I hear them talk about the abundance they found in their lack, the strength they found in their weakness, and sufficiency of grace.

Father, thank you for your Church. Thank you that you have given me a place. Who am I that you would consider me? Father, let your name find every ounce of glory that it is worth. Let your people move ever onward under your guidance and leadership. Let your Kingdom come, on earth as it is in Heaven. Amen.

Haggard Evangelicals

Another church leader has fallen. Ted Haggard, President of the National Association of Evangelicals, confessed to having sex with a male prostitute and to using methamphetamine while doing it. My thoughts are probably incongruous, sometimes contradictory, and change from minute to minute but here are a few right off the top of my head.

1. CRAP!! There will undoubtedly be a strong backlash against Haggard, and I think there probably should be. I hate the impending black eye and any rash generalizations that will follow, lumping all "born again's" with Haggard and his association.
2. Character always leads. I'll bet there was a time when Ted Haggard was an honest, God fearing husband who was doing his best to passionately follow God. There were probably little character issues that he had either dismissed completely or just never took the time to fully crucify. But the pressures of the rise to prominence will tend to squeeze those little character flaws until they become wild fires out of control. A person's character is who he is, so when the person at the top has areas that he hasn't let God touch, those areas will inevitably lead.
3. Isn't it ironic? Ted Haggard had relations with a male prostitute. I can't think of a group of people in the world who are harsher toward homosexuals than evangelical Christians (at least the public voices of evangelicalism like Pat Robertson, Ted Haggard, et. al. Generally speaking of course). I say ironic, some will say hypocritical. Both are probably right.
4. Respond like Christ. At this moment, I don't feel very kindly toward Ted Haggard. I feel like he's made the job of advancing the cause of Christ more difficult. But the job of the Church is to be a restorative agent in the world. That means Ted Haggard too. As much as it chides me at this moment, Ted Haggard needs the loving discipline that only the church can offer. I mean discipline in the true biblical sense... not punishment, but training for righteousness. There should be consequences, but we as Christians (evangelical or otherwise) have a responsibility not to crucify Haggard again. If we don't deal with our own propensity toward hate and judgment, we run the risk of landing right where Haggard did. Be careful when you think you stand, lest you fall. We shouldn't defend what he's done, or defend ourselves from public opinion. I think defensiveness has given "us" into a lot of problems. We should quit defending our rights, take up a towel and serve the least of these. Right now that means Ted Haggard. I don't in any way recommend letting him off the hook. I recommend restoration (see 1 Corinthians 5:1-5; 2 Corinthians 2:3-11).
5. Love Wins. The wake of this story will probably be far and wide. Ted Haggard's actions have relegated him to a notable list of fallen Church leaders with names like Swaggart, Bakker, and King David. But in the end, love wins. We have an opportunity to show the entire world the redemptive power of love. We can love Haggard without condoning what he's done.
6. Less talk, more action. Personally, I think that as the Church we need to do a lot less talking on the political/public/news junkett scene and a lot more secret loving. 1 Peter 2 reminds us that we are to live such good lives among the people that when they say something bad about us, our lives will be testimonies to Christ's power (paraphrase). Let's not talk so much. Let's not spend so much time telling people what we are for (or more often what we are against) and more time just being for those things.

At the end of this whole thing, I pray that the Church will be moved to silence. They're not listening to what we say, they're watching what we do. We need to apologize and take responsibility for this but then we need to just start doing the things we're supposed to do. Less condemnation, more loving and calling people to follow us to true wholeness in Christ.

Today, I'll cringe a bit if I have to answer the question about whether or not I'm an "evangelical." My response probably won't be much different today than it would have been a few weeks ago, but there will be the looming question in my mind about whether or not I'm being pigeon holed. But such is life as a follower of Jesus. Some will misunderstand and others won't care. But the lesson I hope I take away from this whole thing is that I don't want to defend anyone, least of all myself, with words. I want my life to be an example, so that people who want to pigeon hole evangelicals will have a harder time doing it because of the kind of life I lead. Then I want to boldly and unapologetically call Christians to do the same. We can play a part in making sure nothing like this happens again, if we will ruthlessly deal with those "little" things that become consuming drives, and if we challenge those in our lives (not the general masses, but those who have given me the right to speak into their lives) to live the same way.

I'll be praying for Ted Haggard today. I hope you will too.

Moving right along...

I have to be careful. I began my last blog with a physics formula, so I had to do a heart check for self-seriousitis. I knew it first because I'm a language guy not a physicist... and I had to go digging to find the momentum formula. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't posturing.

More than anything I'm wrestling with the "so what" of my monologues on inertia and momentum. Always wrestling with the tendency to live in my own little brain-dom, I occasionally have to come down to earth and figure out what the freak I'm talking about and how it relates to the real world.

I think I'm getting a grip on this one. We have to keep moving. I know that sounds simplistic or boring or whatever... in fact I can hardly believe that's the best I came up with... but I think it's the secret to life. Keep going. But don't just keep moving, keep moving well. Whatever little thing that you feel was a God-honoring thing today, do more of that tomorrow. But don't do it like it's some formulaic "rubbing of the bottle so the geenie shows up," do it because what made you recognize that you had a God moment was God. That means that He found a way to communicate something, and you found a way to pick it up and actually take a step in the right direction.

The implications of that are bigger than I've ever really wrestled with I think. Because if I had wrestled with it, I think I would have much more momentum. I'm still pretty caught up in seeing the grand ME, and attributing most of what happens in the universe in some way to me or mine. George Harrison said, "All I can hear I, Me, Mine..."

But tucked away in a phone call or an encouraging e-mail or a wave to someone in the store is something that's outside of myself beacause it's not about myself. Those moments are the stuff of momentum. Instead I rush off to do my next thing my way and forget to savor the scent of God in the chance meeting or the hand lent to a stranger.

Unfortunately, too many times the idea of momentum in my life comes down to sin management. To be a better Christian I must stop being a sinner. Man. That's a tall order. But what if the mouth speaks out of the overflow of the heart, and what if my heart will be where my treasure is so what if I start giving of what's most important (ME) to someone or something else and watch my heart and my mouth follow? If I start putting some of my valuable time and energy into others, we'll soon see if my life won't follow suit, won't we? What if rather than simply focusing on tearing down the flesh that keeps me from the Spirit, I spend more time trying to build up all those spiritual moments where God rages in me and I sense for a moment the reality of eternity and the opportunity I have to run for it... and the mandate to run well.

The good southern baptist legalist in me want to clarify and say that I'm not being soft on sin (I guess I just did) but right now I don't think I want to say that. My every struggle with sin lets me know that no matter how hard I want to be, I'm soft. Sin beats me too often. So maybe I'm not the guy who needs to fight sin because too often I don't do a very good job of it. Maybe instead I need to spend time and buy lunch for the Guy in me thats bigger than my sin and let Him fight for me.

Momentum is motion. If you can't gain freedom by trying to stop something, then gain freedom through momentum. Go do something. Keep moving. Walk on. Go make a disciple, and try to show them how it's done by doing it yourself. What an expriement that would be, eh?

Momentum in Spiritual Formation: The prospect of someday

P = mv

Momentum equals mass times velocity.

Spiritual formation begins with halting my trajectory toward destruction. If following Christ is motion based on my new identity in Christ, we must first stop moving in the direction defined by my old identity in myself. Basically, stop doing the things I have always done. The problem is that at the moment I start following Christ, I've been moving in a direction, and the law of inertia tells me that I'll continue moving in that direction until something stops me. I think recognition of my direction is a major part. When I begin to recognize the thoughts and attitudes that keep me moving in a direction away from Christ, I can begin to halt the spiritual inertia that keeps me from being the raging Christ follower that I so desperately long to be.

So let's assume for a second that I've stopped my spiritual inertia that was leading me toward trouble (big assumption). Simply stopping is no good, because (as I said before) I'm still left among the rubble and ruin that my old life created. Not to mention that I'm still in a state of bad inertia, because I'm simply not moving. Following Christ implies motion, or a new sort of inertia.

So let's further assume that I've begun the journey of following Christ well. I've recognized the faulty thought patterns that have led to faulty behaviors and I'm sputtering down the road toward "the healthy Christian life." (I don't like that phrase, it sounds too trite and canned, but go with me). This is the kind of spiritual inertia frequently referred to as "the camp high." Back from a mission trip or a retreat, and I'm ready to lay down my life for the movement. My life, marriage, family, home, work, and thought life is going to be different. Or is it?

Where the camp high (or any emotional response) leaves us wanting is that it fails to sustain itself. The friction of life and responsibility slows progress until it's first stopped, and then picks up the road where it left off.

This is where momentum comes in. Momentum is what you get when mass is moving in a direction. It's momentum that makes our initial spiritual inertia so difficult to break. The silver lining is that spiritual momentum in a God-ward direction can be equally as difficult to break.

Mass. Size, substance, weight, density... All the components of the substance of what we are. I think of people with spiritual mass as "deep" people. They always have an interesting take on what God is doing. They're unshaken by the circumstances and situations in life. There's a calm about their demeanor, because the weight (rock) they are tethered too isn't easily moved. It's big. It's got mass.

Velocity. Speed in a given direction. Speed is important. Like Ricky Bobby, "I wanna go fast!" Have you ever known someone who always seems to have a fresh insight from God? Speedy spiritualists seem to be hyper-tuned to God around them. They're receptive to God whispers, so they can move fast and seem to be ahead of the curve. Direction may be the key term here. I've known frantic people who are always chasing something, and never chasing the same thing two days in a row. People with spiritual direction know where they're going and they're able to walk toward it most days in an intentional and direct path.

Momentum. It's not enough to simply get started. It's important to get the whole thing moving somewhere worth going. The camp high becomes a spiritual thing to marvel at when it continues beyond the ecstasy of the experience and into the reality of every day. As they move, the substance of what they are picks up speed toward their destination. Spiritual momentum is a beautiful thing, because it looks like a life in order.

The parable of the sower speaks to momentum, and frankly it drives me crazy sometimes. I hate to see the seeds in my life fall on rocky soil or among the thorns. I'm tangled up in life and not able to break free to run forward with all that I am toward a God ready and waiting to receive me. I build momentum when I begin the tedious work of digging out my reservoir. The spiritual disciplines that I love to hate help me find the stillness and silence that I need to recognize God's voice. I gain spiritual girth when I replace the flab of self with the muscle of my identification with Christ. I pick up speed as the decisions and habits become ingrained and instinctive. My direction remains firm as the weight of who I am becoming moves faster and faster.

When it's so difficult to build momentum in ourselves, how do we call those around us to do what we've not done well? I think about my small group. Most of them are relatively fresh in their journey, and they frequenly find great fits of energy squelched by an energy bill that's larger than they expected or a particularly bad day with their kids. We talk of faithfulness and continuing the path toward where they are going, reassuring them that the stuff of life is building a depth and a faith that can sustain them. But what do we put in their hands? What girth can we impart to them to help them carry forward, even if it's simply rumblin' bumblin' stumblin' forward. How do communities of like minded people become transformed by new momentum?

Orginizationally speaking, that's really hard to do. Relationally speaking, there is hope. I have to be willing to lean in and lend whatever measley girth to the process. I'll get dirty when I do that, because many times the problems aren't mine and the journey is one that I specifically and decidedly wouldn't have chosen. The Church is never more alive than at these times. The paradigm that crashes the whole thing to the ground is the framework of individualism. The fact that I see the problems of others as the problems of "others" means that I'll always be limited to whatever weight or velocity I can muster. But the context of lives lived together on purpose pours a heavenly light into the shadows of difficulty that I always wrestle with. Maybe the first inertia I have to set out to break is the movement of individualism. Two is greater than one. In a friendship, the mass is automatically doubled. Momentum builds. And you can't program it. You have to choose it. We as the Church have to go there first, and grab as many others as we can possibly get our mits on. Those are the important decisions, and they are every decision. Spiritual momentum is made up of the mundane and commonplace choices that I make. To bring or not to bring... that is the question

Inertia and Spiritual formation: What I am is not what I will be

I've been thinking a lot about inertia lately. Inertia says that an object in motion will continue in motion until acted upon by an outside force. Objects at rest will do the same. As a spiritual principle... I'll continue to do what I've always done unless something stops me. I don't have to look very far to see this reality. My habits, thoughts, and reactions are the same as they used to be, and will remain so until something changes them. My defeats come from inertia. Forward motion is only stopped by a greater force in an opposite direction. Faith says that the outside force is God through the Holy Spirit. There is a new motion in Christ. There is not simply new motion - some sort of pauper in prince's clothing thing - I am a new thing all together. But this new thing is bearing old fruit because I forgot to get started in the right direction. There's the same old inertia moving this brand new thing.

Side note: I think that's why mission is such a vital part of spiritual formation. Paul writes that you who have used your hands to steal should use your hands to build. That's redemption. That's opposite inertia.

Side note 2: That's why disciplines work. They are inertia breakers. Silence stops the noise and lets you hear the voices that compel you. Solitude removes the external pressures so that God's internal pressure can move you forward. On and on through the disciplines. They help stop what is steaming ahead and create the surface area in my life for God to stop the motion.

We aren't simply physical beings. We are animated by our souls. Our souls are known as they manifest themselves through our thoughts, which manifest themselves in action (see Dallas Willards Renovation of the Heart for a more thorough discussion of the soul). As our thoughts are altered, so will our lives be altered. The first place inertia must be addressed is in the mind. Be transformed by the renewing of the mind. Let your new life be manifested by a new way of thinking.

As a human, I'm prone to addictions and compulsions of all kinds. I am always looking for new ways to tether myself to something. These are the substances of my intertia... the things that keep me moving in a direction. Consider inertia in such areas as my cynicism. The reason I continue in a cynical frame of mind is because when I see an opportunity to scoff, my mind dwells on it until it becomes as "real" as my hands or feet. What started in my brain finds its fulfillment only after I've given permission to it in my thoughts. I've lingered with the thought because that's what I've always done. Inertia. It's also why the scripture tells us to think on things that are right, pure, noble, and true. Those things are intertia breakers. They're also outside of the scope of my powers. They are totally God. The power in me that is able to break my destructive inertia is the presence of God. God not only stops my forward motion, He erases the tracks in the sand. Where I am is a product of where I've been, but it no longer has to be the trajectory that defines where I am going.

How, then, do I become less cynical (for instance)? Well, first off I have to stop moving in the direction of cynicism. Practically, that means staying away from places, things, and people that reinforce that. It also means not going to the place in me where "the cynic" calls home and makes his base of operations. Don't linger in the place of temptation because the slightest move begins or continues inertia (that's a discussion of momentum... another topic of relevance I think). That stops inertia, but it leaves me in the place I am, and that's no good. Where I am is among the wreckage I've created by going to that place. Reminders are everwhere, and they have already proven big enough to get me moving the wrong way again. So I can't just stop inertia, I must reverse it.

That's when discipleship happens. When I stop following the drives of my old self, I can begin following Christ. Practically that means replacing the parts that drove me to be cynical with the things that drive me to Christ. The foibles of the foolish or requests made with tearful emotional pleas are opportunities for cynicism, but if I replace those with a move to prayer, then I'm on the road to breaking inertia. Over time inertia will begin moving the other way. To continue on and pick up speed in this new direction moves us into the realm of momentum, which is perhaps the next discipleship principle.

As for now, I'm setting about the process of breaking inertia. Thomas Merton prayed, "Justify my soul, O God, but also from your fountains fill my will with Fire. Shine in my mind, although perhaps this means "be darkness to my experience," but occupy my heart with your tremendous life. Let my eyes see nothing in the world but your glory, and let my hands touch nothing that is not for your service. Let my tongue taste no bread that does not strengthen me to praise your great mercy. I will hear your voice and I will hear all harmonies you have created, singing your hymns. Sheeps wool and cotton from the field shall warm me enough that I may live in your service; I will give the rest to your poor. Let me use all things for one sole reason: to find my joy in giving you glory." amen.

The Pure in heart...

Babies are amazing. My little guy is an education every day of my life. He's a good sleeper, but when he wakes up, he lets us know by doing this little whimper thing. It's not really a cry, but it's definitely not a coo. So he's whimpering to let us know that he's awake and that we need to come peel the diaper off of him and plug him into the bottle so he gets what he needs, but in the middle of all of the angst of babyhood, without breaking the stride and rhythm of his whimper, this huge smile fills all the space between his eyes and his chin. Jackson doesn't just smile, he opens wide to let the joy gush out. It's quite the paradox, the smiling crying baby... but it's regular as clockwork.

Innocence is a beautiful thing. Jackson doesn't get hung up in having to be all one or all the other. The pain and excruciating suffering of sitting in poop with an empty stomach doesn't deter him from expressing the joy of seeing his beloved parents. The whimper lets you know there's still discomfort, but the smile lets you know that there's a perspective that he knows it's all going to be good.I'm an all or nothing kind of guy. When I'm sad... I'm freaking morose. When I'm happy... you can't peel me off the ceiling. Some people call it manic, but we'll let them have their quackish diagnoses. I think there's something to be said for feeling deeply, even if it's feeling deeply sad or deeply pensive or whatever. The only bad part comes when the depth of one feeling is allowed to push out the depth of all other feelings. Why can't sadness and joy coexist? Why can't we see the rainbow on the horizon in the midst of a storm... and why can't we rejoice in it?

The purity of Jackson's heart lets him see the goodness in the midst of whatever struggle or sadness he may be enduring at this particular moment. I think babies inherently see or know God. It's what the image of God looks like before it's marred by social climbing and addiction and fear. In big-people terms, the closest thing I can think of to call it is contentment. Paul said that he could do all things with Christ, and that (maybe most out of context quoted verse in scripture) comes in the midst of talking about being hungry and doing without.I take life too seriously. Or maybe I take myself too seriously. There are serious troubles in this world. There are problems that I can't turn away from, and wouldn't if I could. I love the image of the Kingdom of Light spreading through the darkness. You can't be a Kingdom bearer without looking at the darkness. But neither can you carry the Kingdom if you forget the light. This is where I get caught in cynicism and pessimism. This is where my art and my thoughts and my life start to be lived for other people. If my eye is dark, how great is the darkness within me. But if I can see light in the middle of diaper rash and hunger... then I can see the light everywhere.

Oh, God! What glory there is in your diversity. Father, give me the grace to embrace sadness in the hope of comfort. Help me to embrace darkness with the promise of light. In a world where darkness creeps up from all sides, always threatening to smother hope and faith and love clear my heart of conflicting values and ambitions. Lord let me see you everywhere, and give me the grace to smile. Thank you for reminders of your involvement in our lives. Thank you that you haven't left us alone. Your wrath drives me to your love. Your kindness leads me to repentance. Be glorified Father.

Art & the Church -or- Intelligent design gone latent

My wife and I always have the conversation about art and music. Typically inspired by the most recent episode of "Making the Band 47: These girls can sweat," one of the caked on girls in short shiny golden shorts says something like, "they just don't let me express my art." To which I snicker and guffaw and say something demeaning about their "art." Natalie chides me for my musical snobbery and closed-minded approach to all things lyrical and melodical.

Aside from the fact that I should generally be kinder and gentler with people on TV, the question is one worth considering... what is art? This has been an evolution in consciousness for me, because for whatever reason, God has given me a heart for the arts. For a long time I considered art... musically speaking... to require something risky or edgy and preferrably created on the spot. I followed Phish around and am still intrinsically moved by the jam band scene. I'm also an extreme jazz novice who can't get enough. I considered these expressions high musical art because of prevalence of the value of creation. At a Phish show, the songs themselves become frameworks for creation. Love it or hate it, the 20 minute "jams" are musical things that are created as you watch and as you listen. That's why a show is so special, because there haven't ever been two of them alike. Sometimes they fail, but sometimes there are moments of transcendence that closely mirror worship (that's another topic for another time).

That led to my first, and broader, definition of what art was. Art was something creative vs. something created (meaning manufactured). That fit nicely with my enjoyment of "the jam" and jazz. But I soon came to realize that there was a lot left out of that. For instance, I love Bob Dylan. I also love Matchbox 20's first 2 albums. More recently I've fallen in love with the music of Anna Nalick. These "pop" musicians defy my first attempt to classify or define art (side note: I realize the absurdity and stupidity of trying to classify something like art. In this sense, I use the words classify and define purely as a means to try and understand why some things definitely seem to be art, and some things definitely don't.). While there was definitely something creative about them, their songs were simple and easy. No modal vamps or tension/release jams.

These artists don't necessarily have improvisation as their hallmark. They are more vocally driven or lyrically driven (in the case of Dylan). That was Natalie's point in the MOTB conversation. A little closer to home, she uses herself as an example. For those who don't know, my wife has a voice like an angel. Seriously, it's one of the most amazing things that I've ever heard, but she doesn't play an instrument and hasn't (yet) written any songs. Which led me to my final (current is a better word) understanding.

For something to be art, it must move you spiritually or emotionally in your soul to a higher place. Art must lift you. It must create a feeling or a mood or an experience. It doesn't necessarily have to make things sunny and easy, but it needs to expand your consciousness in some way and, even if only momentarily, make you see the world differently.

I don't hesitate to call my wife an artist. She moves me when she leads worship. Dylan is an artist because he created his own music, but he tells a story with a conviction (listen to Blood on the Tracks or Blonde on Blonde). He makes you feel something. I listened to Anna Nalick's song "Breathe" literally 50 times in a row, and I could write a post on the deeper meaning of the song. In the case of Making of the Band, the girls had pipes, but there wasn't anything that made me want to live, be, feel, or understand differently. When I hear Matt Singleton talk about hip-hop, I'm hearing a soul that has been challenged by art (for evidence, check this out). Again, the specifics of this are infinitely and eternally open to debate. What moves you and lifts you up is indefinable on global context (maybe), but you get what I'm talking about.

Which brings me to the topic of the Church. Where have all the artists gone? I realize in my last few posts that I've probably been a little bit dogmatic about the Church. I've probably done some finger pointing and wagging, and for that I apologize. I dont' want to leave out names like Dave Crowder, Rob Bell, Erwin McManus, Donald Miller, Kyle Lake, and a whole host of names that I don't yet know but hope to someday stumble upon. But the fact remains, statistically speaking, the Church has largely failed to capture the imagination of the public at large. Could this be due in part to the failure of the Body to produce something so large and beautiful that it has to be wrestled to the ground in sweat and tears, only to be left with a sore hip and a tearful admission that it's bigger than I am.

The saddest part about all of this is that the first glimpse of God we get is of a creative being who is moved by the splendor of His own creation. Isaiah was brought to his knees by the revelation of God. Ezekiel fell to the ground at the mystery of the vision of God. John the Revelator finds himself time and again conveying images of creation caught up in worship at the splendor of its King.

I don't often enough recognize my own failure to be moved by the Artist. So I ask again, where are the artists in the Church? More pointedly, I ask myself, where is the artist in me? Where am I playing my part in channeling the Creator so people will see and be moved, taste and see that He is good. When I listen to Klove, I'm bothered by what's passed off as art. I don't deny that I'm a music snob, not easily impressed. But it burns me to hear another Christian band that sounds just like a cheap knock off of something in the mainstream culture. I honestly think Crowder can be counted among the handful of Christian musical artists. I would put U2 in the same category (digression: I think that U2 has had as much influence in popular music today as anyone in history. The only possible exception I can think of is the Beatles. Possibly.). I think that's why I'm increasingly having to admit my fondness of such Christian hate gatherers as Eminem. While decidedly not Christan, his passion is absolutely contagious. He makes me remember that I'm a being capable of feeling and passion and intensity.

In large part, I guess, this is an indictment of myself. I have failed to capture the essence of creativity that's in me. I had a chance today to write something for use in our weekend services. It may have been the most authentic worship I've offered in a long long time. I just don't do it enough. Those expressions get pushed to the back burner in favor of systems and structures. I don't have any problem with the systems and structures. None at all. Honestly. The fault lies within me. I am the one created in the image of God, and all that I do should bear that likeness. Art isn't confined to painting or singing or dancing. Life is art, because in every moment there is potential to lift and be lifted. To move and be moved. To create and be created again.

For the Church to be what it was intended to be, its life giving Spirit demands that we return to the artistic. God Himself requires that we settle for nothing less than honest expression, in whatever form it takes - from a Bible study class to a poem to an elders meeting - of the biggness of our God.

The Church is waiting for her artists to arise. Let us all come awake.

Part 5 - What then shall we say?

If one of the major parts of our translation of Christ and faith to a world that doesn't understand is owning it ourselves, what do we do when we don't own it? More precisely, if I have to wait until I have a perfect (or even nearly perfect) practical understanding of grace or salvation or hearing from God or meditation before I say anything about it, then when will any of us ever say anything at all? Partner that question with the reality that we have been commissioned by Christ to go make disciples, and that Paul implies that people can't become disciples unless they hear the truth and we potentially have a real pickle.

So what then shall we say?

I think we'll all be better off if we START by saying that we don't have half the stuff figured out that we think we do. Our first conversation could start with the phrase, "I'm not an expert, but here's what's happened to me..." and then we're sharing what we do know for certain... our experiences, our stories, the hope that we've found in real life situations. When our discussions begin with our stories, at that point we become experts. And not just experts, but experts in the things that really matter. I don't believe anyone is truly converted by arguments. You may change their mind for a short while, but in the long run you have failed to capture their hearts. Jesus didn't woo Peter, Andrew, James, or John with a theological construct for the Kingdom, He captured them with a vision of a bigger catch. You may not like my theology and we may not agree on one single bit of it, but when I sit down and share with you honestly what I've experienced of God in my life, you may not understand it and you may even have a different explanation for it, but it's my story. If you trust me and you believe I'm a person of integrity and sound mind, you will have to wrestle with my story and square it up with the person that you know me to be.

Again, it comes down to the person that I am. I don't expect someone's translation to be perfect. I expect it to be authentic, meaning that I expect it to be honest and born out of a true experience. I don't want to know what you believe about God, I want to know who God is to you. That's translation that can't be argued with. It can be rejected, but it can't be argued with.

So back again to the point of articulating or translating that which we're not experts in (sorry for the digression). I guess the answer is simple. Don't pretend to know more than you know. Offer what you understand, or what you've read, or what you've heard... but don't offer it dogmatically. Because whatever the words you're saying, when you speak without love... you're not translating Christ... no matter the words you say. Say what you know, share your convictions with conviction, challenge, stretch, and face up to people. But remember that the truest translation of what you believe doesn't come out of your mouth. It comes out of your life. Then, when all the discussion is done (or better yet, before it even gets started) go get coffee together or go get a meal together or go hit golf balls together. Before you talk about eternal security or open theism, talk about their family or their job or their bowling score. Then they won't be a dialectical adversary, they will be a real person with a real context and a real story. Then they'll feel the comfort to ask you what sanctification means... and you'll feel comfortable telling them that your'e not really sure. You'll feel comfortable because they're you're friend. And friends can be open and transparent and real with eachother. And that's the truest, realest, most faithful translation of the Godhead that I could imagine.

But don't stop speaking and cop it out to not understanding. Go get understanding. If you don't know God well enough to speak about Him, they by all means find someone who does and stick with them. Not so that you can pick up the lingo, but so that you can be in a place with someone who has experienced Him. When you touch Him and taste Him and feel Him all over you... then you will have something to speak of. When He has met you in your darkness... you will speak of the light with conviction. When He has mended your brokenness... then your discussion of wholeness has authority. But you won't need to wield that authority, because you'll understand both the brokenness and the wholeness... and your life will have found perfect and complete redemption. Then the Kingdom will be within you.

So here's to long conversations and faithful interpretations in life. May your life speak more loudly and more clearly than any words you ever utter. May your speech and your life point faithfully and truly at the One you hope to find. May your steps be your own, and may they tread new ground. May your risks pay off... if not always in success, in a great story eagerly shared. May the circle of ones you love be forever expanding. May the Lord bless you and keep you. May He make His face to shine upon you. Feel the Love

Part 4 - Your actions are speaking so loudly, I can't hear what you're saying

Translation means making sense of words that I understand for others who don't understand. Generally we speak of translation as going from one language to another. In learning to "speak" Christian to a world that doesn't understand it, the highest principle of translation is pointing to Christ and giving our words a context that makes their meaning totally understandable.

The problem is that I know not of what I speak.

Honestly, "Christianese" has become such a part of our Christian subculture that when we talk about grace, forgiveness, hearing the Lord, salvation, holiness... we're talking about what we don't really understand. By "really understand" I mean practically understand. That's why we don't make much sense to the world around us. We're talking about things we don't know.

I'm a language guy. If I were to go sit in a doctoral level math class of some sort, I would be able to take notes and pick up some words. I could probably then go to a dictionary somewhere and find definitions of those words and know their meanings. But it would take about 11 seconds in conversation for someone to realize that I don't know what in the world I'm talking about.

That's where we as Christians lose our credibility. Have you ever been in a conversation with someone who is trying to use words they don't really know? They'll toss in a nice $5 word, but they use it in an awkward way? Or when you talk to someone about baseball and they say something that let's you know they're really stretching? What's your first thought? You may not write them off or dismiss them totally, but you certainly wonder why it is that they're going out on a limb to sound like they know what they obviously don't.

There's no greater thing that needs faithful translation that issues of faith. There are no more important words that we could convey than grace, community, salvation, hope. The problem is that we've talked and even shouted these words with such reckless fury without making sure that we know what we're talking about. If we want to be faithful translators of grace... we must first be people of grace.

But none of that will become possible until I'm willing to first own up to the fact that there's a disconnect in what I say and what I am. Until my life is integrated, and salvation means that I've truly been saved from the things that are killing me, when I talk about it to someone else, they won't get it. The stories of people who have tried God and found Him wanting is an indictment not on God, but on my failure to embrace Him fully. I quote Galatians 2:20 about being crucified with Christ before going to the cross. So those outside the Church misunderstand what God asks of us.

We gather in communities which are scripturally mandated to bear one anothers burdens, and we divide along understandings of gifts and inspiration and the fate of those whose lives fail to bear fruit, and we point at the other camps and call them wrong. Then we "witness" to people about God's desire to bring them into families and place them in community when they see our communities as weekday programs where we gather with people who dress the same and talk the same and make the same income as we do. We talk about the mission in the context of weekend trips that make us feel like we've played our part in the game, but we don't turn off our phones so that we don't miss the opportunity to take another step on the ladder ever upward.

I'm also always aware of the plank in my own eye. It's funny that my job... and by that I mean my source of income... is to build communities for the sake of spiritual formation. Yet I am feeling the pangs of brokenness because I know not of what I speak.

I think I need to stop talking about translating for a minute... and starting understanding the things that I'm hoping to convey. Maybe then I won't have to say anything. I believe in the Church. More precisely, I believe in the Spirit which quickens the Church. I don't hope for perfection in the Body, because then I couldn't be a part of it. But I do hope for integrity. I hope for the gentle gradual clensing of the cultural muck and grime that I've picked up as part of a global organization that's sometimes political and sometimes ethical but always portraying something about the God that's called me out of where I was and into something beautiful.

My mandate to translate is as strong today as it was on the day that God captured me. But it has to begin by embodying the message that won my heart. On the day that God woke me up, I didn't need to hear about Grace. I was in the middle of it. May my translation begin by first taking up the towel and washing the feet of those around me.

Chapter 5 - Then should we be silent?

Part 3 -

What do we do when two different people come to the table with conflicting translations of the same idea or word? Is there an objective test to determine which translation is the best available?

First of all, the word "objective" is a bit scary, especially when it's dealing with language. Language is an art. It's not easily quantifiable. It's fluid, in motion, changing, dancing, evolving. That's why Shakespeare can be such a daunting task... the words he said aren't the words we would say.

So when it comes to defining words and ideas for the purpose of translation there's no getting around the dilemma of occasionally deciding between two or more conflicting and even contradictory definitions or responses to a certain word or idea. So how do we choose?

...Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them... Matthew 7:20

Jesus equates the legitimacy of false prophet's message with fruit, saying that a good tree can't bear bad fruit and vice versa. For purposes of translation, the measure of a words worth, relevance, importance should be the fruit that the idea or concept will bear when applied. When talking about words or ideas that relate to God the translation that produces the best fruit (result, situation) for the greatest number of people for the greatest amount of time should be accepted as the best translation for a word or idea.

Therefore the greatest definition of grace is not the definition which allows me the freedom to chose my own destruction through my actions, but the definition which takes into consideration the self-destructive choices that I make, and turns those choices into positive results... or good fruit.

The words that we use have immediate implications for every life because before they ever have the opportunity to be translated, they must first be rooted in something "real." If we LIVE a definition that falls short of Christ, we portray a broken and faulty image of the one we follow. The consequence for those outside the church are dire, but the consequences for we who hold those definitions are possibly more dire, because we will face the charge of not being good stewards of what we have been given... a faithful portrayal of Truth in the person of Christ and a Divine Helper in the Holy Spirit.

The point is... what we say matters very much, especially in matters of faith and practice.

As the Church we have been entrusted with the Hope of the world. We have been given the keys to the Kingdom, and we have a resonsibility and a charge to take those keys an unlock every door that stands in the way of people getting to Christ. Paul asks the question, "how will they believe if they do not hear?" The rhetorical answer is that they won't. We're always saying something and what we are saying affects what people are believing. We're always communicating. We believe something about Christ and grace and truth and life, and what we believe is manifested every day of our lives. Christ came and translated God for us in images and stories that fit His time and His culture. His goal was to make God accessible to us. If He didn't speak the language of the people He was trying to reach, His mission would have been a failure. But His message wasn't limited to the words, "greater love has no man than laying his life down for his friends," His message was the fulfillment of that love. In a sense, the words He said were signposts so we would recognize the God He was trying to show us.

I've taken a long time to say that it doesn't matter if we have the most dictionary faithful verbal definition of Christ and the Church and matters of faith if our lives are devoid of the context to process them. The important work of translating what we say (salvation, grace, hope, sanctification, prayer, etc.) is meaningless futility if we don't live the Truth at a level beyond what we say. It must first be in us, before it will ever be intelligible coming from us.

So what are the words that you say that don't have meaning or context in your life, and what translation does that give for the passers by in your life?

Part 4 - Culturally speaking...

Part 2 - Flesh Speaks

Language is a great tool to help us share the things that mean something to us. Words give us the freedom to express life, love, hope, and myriad other emotions and experiences that fill our lives.

But language isn't perfect. It comes up short. The crazy thing is that it comes up short in different places for different people. Take for instance the word "stewardship." It's not an uncommon word. I'd guess that a good number of high school seniors would have atleast heard the word before. But you may not have the same understanding of "stewardship" that I have. The first time I heard the word, it was related to a fund raising campaign to build a church. Stuffy men we knew from church wanted to help us be good stewards of the money God had given us by helping them to build a fancy new building and parking lot. Never mind the fact that my father had been out of work for a year and we were... struggling. So my first taste of stewardship wasn't a tasty one.

And each of us could tell a story like that whether in the church or out of it, words get mis-shapen and misused and all along the way, beautiful ideas and thoughts crumple and wrinkle from misuse.

That's a sad thing, simply for language sake. But when we're talking about eternal things, it's even more sad because those things really matter.

Grace
Peace
Hope
Love

Each of those words means something, and they probably mean something different to you than they do to me. Atleast in their shades of meaning. These words have eternal implications, so how do I handle them? How can I talk about grace to you if you have no context, no understanding, maybe even no real exposure to the idea of grace as I understand it.

...And the word became fl esh, and dwelt among us... John 1:14

It's important, I thnk, to understand that all ideas and concepts originate with God. I believe that everything has its beginning and finds its fulfillment in God, so Grace & Peace and all the others are His ideas. Even words like hate, darkness, prejudice, and despair are ultimately defined by God or His absence in a place. In order for any of us to even have a hope of getting it, we had to get it from him.

You think it's tough to communicate with someone from a foreign country... try communicating from the divine to the fallen. But God, in His wisdom and love found a way to communicate... to translate if you will, what He was (Grace, Love, Truth, Purity). He put on flesh and moved into the neighborhood (John 1:14 Msg).

Scriptures talk about Christ... image of the invisible God, the exact representation of His being... so many other things that point us to the fact that who Christ was is crucial to our understanding who God is. Christ is the translation.

I think the important thing for me now is that the best way for me to communicate grace to someone who may not understand it... or may think they understand it, but understand differently from me... is to live it. To give it flesh and dwell in places where it can be reckoned with.

That's where the Church has lost a lot of credibility. We talked about love and the poor, but we didn't do anything. Let us first be gracious, then preach grace. Let us first be forgiving, then preach forgiveness. Let us first live with the hope of forever, then talk about hope. Most of all, let us first hunger and thirst after righteousness... then and only then will our lives cause others to hunger and thirst as well.

I'm still wrestling with this idea of translation. So far I think 1) it's not enough to say words to people who may not understand or have any idea what I'm talking about. That's not polite, and it's most certainly not effective. 2) A concept modeled is a concept translated... partly.

Which raises the question... probably for Part 3... if a concept modeled is a concept translated, what happens when two different people act two different ways and both call it the same thing... which is right? Which one has the better translation?

Part One - the words we say and the words we don't

The doctrinal statement for my church and my denomination state that the word of God is divinely inspired and that the original manuscripts as they were originally writen by the original authors (called autographs) are infallible in all matters that they address. It's interesting that they have to stipulate that the autographs are inspired and infallible. Why the distinction?

Translation.

I'm not the person to give a history of how the scripture has been preserved down through the ages, but it's really an amazing thing to read and understand. From meticulous monks huddled over parchment counting letters and syllables, with seemingly ridiculous rules about ends of lines and ends of pages, and all of that... it's a remarkable thing. It gives me a lot of confidence in reading the Bible that I'm reading what was intended to be written.

But it's not the same. Words don't translate well. The well-worn biblical example of the English word love can be translated by several different greek words with different shades and implications... all of which make a difference. It doesn't render the scripture unreadable or incomprehensible, it simply removes some of the shades of the original language.

That's why language is so important. No bones about it... I'm a language freak. I think language is this amazing gift from God. But like any other gift, it's a stewardship. We have to use it wisely. Another side benefit of my love for language is that I have a very real understanding that language is imperfect. Words aren't enough to convey all the meaning. That's why so much gets all jacked up in e- mails. Language requires a life to give it context. So in effect, we can't be separated from our words, we're all language. We're all speaking, all the time, even when we're not saying anything.

But do the words we say and the lives we lead speak clearly, or do we get lost in translation? This is never more important than when it comes to issues of faith. Matt Singleton asked the question of me, and it forced me to think about it and really take a look at it. The problem is that I grew up in a church culture, so most of the time I'm not even 100% aware of when I use the words that may not be understood.

This is just the beginning. Everything is still loose ends right now. But I want to delve into this more deeply in my brain. I also want to hear all of your thoughts on this issue. When has language (verbal and non-verbal) gotten in the way of understanding God? Think hard, reach deep, let it fly.

Wrecked...

Have you ever played with a microscope. You know how you have to turn the coarse adjustment knob until the thing under the lens gets somewhat visible, and then there's the fine adjustment knob to bring things into crystal clarity? Yeah. Sometimes life is like that.

Left to its own devices, over long enough time without being touched or tweaked... just out of sheer neglect, I think microscopes will go out of focus. You don't have to do anything, it just happens. In fact, it's the NOT doing anything that makes it happen.

I look back on my past few posts, not so much with shame or guilt, but with sadness and regret because those are days that I won't ever get back. Ever again. They are gone. They no longer exist, they are written on the winds of time. I won't say they were wasted, because they delivered me to this point.

This is a point of Coarse adjustment for me. The reason I was frustrated, angry, disillusioned, grouchy... I had sin in my life. There was a time when I would have wanted to soft sell it or make it more palatable or whatever, but not today. Today, in a moment of clarity, I realize all that the stupid, selfish, ridiculous sins in my life have cost me.

They have cost me opportunity. Business people understand opportunity costs. I don't think Christians do enough.

I spent the last 3 days at the Willow Creek Leadership Summit. Say what you will about Willow Creek and the machine and the campus and the seeker sensitive and the church lite and the whatever it is that you may choose to say... my life is in clearer focus now than it was 3 days ago.

The fine adjustments are coming. I know it. I feel it. I believe it. I'm waiting for it. But here's the things, very rough, that I walked away with.

1. He knows me. Don't skip past this, because I did and it is important. Jesus is more than your savior, He's more than your leader, He's more than a cosmic guide. He knows you. Intimitely.

2. People are all that matter. That's it. Not my program, job, spiritual gift, anything else if it doesn't point to, edify, and make people better.

3. People are best when they know God.

That's all. Even as I read it, it doesn't seem earth shattering. Except that the implications for what I do with my minutes hinges on how well I center my life around those truths and others like them.

If I give my life to building His Kingdom, then my minutes and my life will mean something. If I give it to anything else. It is a wasted moment that I will never get back.

The Kingdom of God is within me.

The Kingdom of God within me finds its best, most beautiful, most glorious, most God honoring manifestation when it is given completely, totally, sacrificially, and wholly to those who don't know Him.

I am wrecked for the way that I've ordered my life around the other things.

God forgive me for my wasted moments. Give me the grace to stand above the sin that has held me down. Give me your eyes for the people who don't know you yet. Let me live in the constant and complete awareness that where I am... you are there. And you know me.

Alright... so my last post may have been a bit reactionary and whiny. It was morning and I"m not a morning person. So I don't want to diminish some of the ideas, but maybe looking back I wish I was a little bit less whimpery.

Still the idea is one that I can't get away from. Looking back over the past few months, it's been there... God is not defined by my definitions. God is. Steven Curtis Chapman said God is God and I am not. There's a lot of truth in that little statment. But it's a lifetime of learning it.

I guess now that I'm several hours removed from the frustration, I see that the discovery of God is in the wrestling of Jacob, and it's in the facing of the scary man outside of Jericho. Without facing that guy, we never get to see God.

It's the different facets of God (if that's a good word for this). We meditate on the 23 Psalm and love to get the pastoral image of Father, making me to lie down in green pastures. The God who ordered Saul to slay every one of the Amalekites including animals, women, and children is not a God that I constantly seek out in my quiet times.

But it's the same God. I can't choose which God I follow. I have to take Him or leave Him. It's the taking that's tough. Because the comfort that comes in the nestling arms of my very big Father finds fulfillment and ultimate realization in the fiery eyed God who seeks out and destroys those things that try to kill me. As God loves me and holds me, He is violently opposed to what would steal, kill, and destroy me.

"The wages of sin is death."

Yeppers. Those things that kill me are in me, and they are me. That's why sometimes I feel like an object of wrath. That's why I'm so uncomfortable with the blazen eyes of the Lord of Hosts. Because those eyes are fixed at the things in me that are killing me and rotting me from the inside.

Honestly, I hate sin. I hate what it does to me, I hate the inherent distance that it brings my relationship with Father, and I hate that it's all over me and so many times I feel powerless to change the things I hate most. It's an ugly thing.

It's easy for me to focus on topics of conversation and teaching like advancing the Kingdom. It's difficult to realize that the Kingdom is within me. What areas of my life is the Kingdom advancing in me? It's easy for me to focus on a mission of salvation, of bringing light into dark places. It's difficult to face the dark places in me. What areas of my life are increasingly being changed by the light?

I see the effects of sin in my life all the time. I see it in the way I relate to my wife, my coworkers, my favorite people in the world. I smell the stench of death in people at my church whose marriages are being ripped apart by abuse - physical, emotional, and substance. But the hesitancy to face up to that in my own life translates neatly into my hesitancy to face up to that in those who have allowed me to have some small role of influence in their lives. I fear legalism. I fear the label of hypocrite. I fear that they'll turn in anger and ask me what right I have to look into their lives when my own life bears the scars.

But more than anything, I think, I fear dying spiritually because I was scared to face those things in me. I fear seeing people live lives of meaningless fritter because I never held their hand as they walked away from death. I fear living a life where no one points out the marks of decay in my own life, and helps carry me away from the grave yard.

Jacob wrestled with an angel, earned a limp, and became the father of a people. Joshua met a warrior who he feared, and led a triumphant band of warriors into the promised land. There's power in the battle. Fight on.

GRRRRRRRRRROWL

I have moments where I want to just throw things in frustration. I hesitate to say the word anger because that word has implications that my self-control fruit is less than developed and certainly a week or two short of ripeness... but I guess the fruit never lies.

You know the story where Jacob wrestles with the angel and gets his hip broken and ends up limping for the rest of his life? I wonder what was going on in his brain during the wrestling match? I wonder if there was a moment when he didn't think he was going to make it. I wonder how it started. Did the angel just walk up, tap him on the shoulder, and sucker punch him? Was it a giant bear hug tackle from behind?

What about the time when Joshua was standing outside the Jericho walls and this fearsome guy comes and stands by him. Joshua freaks out because the guy is obviously intimidating and scary, probably 6'5" about 260, wearing the full battle gear with a scowl on his face. Joshua's the one with the faith right? He and his partner Caleb brought back the grapes on a staff 40 years earlier and told the whole tribe of Israel that they could take the land. Then all of a sudden here's this guy who might make him reconsider. Joshua asks the question... "tell me sir, are you with us or are you with them?"

I hate it that I'm not able to reconcile in my brain that the guy I'm wrestling with carries a blessing, or the scary dude standing over my shoulder is really an angel in the army of the God that I'm trying to follow. It bothers me that I don't recognize the places and the ways that He shows up. It bothers me that sometimes all I want is a blessing and instead I get a wrestling match. When I feel like I'm doing the thing that God wants me to do, the only people I seem to see are the dudes whose armor is thicker than mine, whose muscles are more well developed than mine, and whose glare is more convincing than mine.

I have this sense that the Kingdom of God is supposed to be the most powerful force on the planet, but my own flesh and bawdy desires regularly wrestle it to the ground and pin it for a 3 count. The disciples wanted Jesus to restore the Kingdom of Israel. They wanted him to set up a literal throne in a literal place with the help of literal angels. They wanted a show of power, force, might. They wanted demonstration. They got Christ, and Him crucified. I don't know how to talk about that. I don't know how to make that the guiding principle in my life. I don't know how to find comfort in a God who wrestles with His chosen ones, leaving them limping.

Joshua didn't recognize God at Jericho, but the walls still fell. When Jacob woke up after his stairway dream, he said, "Surely the Lord was in this place and I didn't know it." Atleast I'm not the only one. Sometimes it feels like a party game to find God in all the cute little places in the world. Sometimes I just have to admit that I just don't recognize the landscape.

Part of me looks at these times and finds frustration that God doesn't work in the formulaic ways that I want Him too. That would be an easier list to keep, and an easier way for me to trudge forward on my own. The other part of me has the heartfelt conviction that I don't want a God who always meets my expectations. I don't want to be God, because I could never surprise me in the ways that He does. I could never find endless ways to turn wrestling matches into blessings, and holy fear into a Kingdom conquest. Perhaps it time that I take my messiah fantasies to the cross and just listen. That would be a nice change of pace.

Life at the bottom - or - the reality of deity as discovered in the trenches

Avalanches begin slowly, a slight downward shift, perhaps in a single snowflake. But it presses and nudges the flakes immediately around it, until they too are in motion. Almost imperceptibly then, mountains crumble into the plain and the landscape is changed.

So it is with me and spirituality. Great motions of realization are often precipitated by barely perceptible nudges against the hidden parts of me. I haven't written here much, mostly because it didn't seem like I had much to say. I don't want to get locked into always having to have "spiritually" minded posts, but I'm firmly convinced that God is everywhere, so every moment has the potential of revealing the face of our God.

But sometimes the face of God is obscured, covered, hidden, out of sight. It's hard to tell in those moments whether He's hiding or the night is just too black around me or perhaps my eyes have been deceiving me the whole time and the God that I thought I had discovered was not the God who really stood crouching in the shadows.

Here's the doozy for me. I go on for weeks at a time, pretending that things are as they have seemed. I'm the ostrich with my head in the sand, sure that if I continue along in what I've seen and heard before then God will stay the same and be the same and I'll still have Him all figured out. For weeks I'll ignore this nudge in my spirit that says, "you're not seeing Me." I continue on with the trappings of worship or study or connection that used to be filled with life and hope, but are ever waning and losing their ability to move me Godward. But I hold on and grip them as if they were all that was left, all the while God is moving forward into something else.

I also notice that in those times where I'm stuck and God is not, I notice in others first what God eventually ends up showing me. This time is was an authenticity issue. I would sit in church and wonder, "is this real? Are these people 'getting it' or is this a Pavlovian example of conditioned response?"

Today that came home. Am I real, or am I a dog slobbering at the ringing of the bell? In a lot of ways I'm still struggling to reconcile what I'm coming to see and believe with what I was taught to see and believe. There seems to be this widening chasm between where I was and where I am, and it scares the hell out of me to consider the ramifications of that. What I think I've been trying to do was just talk as if I had it figured out, and pretend that I knew what I believed. But that doesn't work.

But even as the chasm expands, I find that my tendency to cast away the past as irrelevant or unimportant isn't healthy or good. It's also interesting to note that I'm much more comfortable with my 'secular' past than I am with my ecclesiastical history.

It feels like the valley. The past few weeks have been hell. Not sure of where I am or who I am or what I'm doing, I sunk in my spirit. Yesterday was a boiling point where I cried out.

God answered

The explanation of how and where and why God met me probably wouldn't make much of an impression on you. I think it's actually a very mundane thing in reality. But in His infinite grace and wisdom, He found a way to connect with me and let me know that even though I'd walked off the path, He knew what I loved, and wanted to share. That was very important. So now I begin/continue this experiment in authenticity. It seems there's another layer of stuff that needs to be peeled away.

In... or Out?

It's been awhile. It's good to be back.

Things are great. Jackson is sleeping much more recently, which means that mom and dad are too. I still feel like crap, but I think it's clearing up so hopefully we're on the mend.

College group is going really well. We're starting to move past the "I dont' want to say anything in front of these people" phase and into the "I hear what you're saying, but..." phase which really excites me. We're slowly dancing through the Sermon on the Mount, and we've had some great discussions. This week we talked about Jesus saying that unless we have a better righteousness we can't be in the Kingdom. What we came to was that Jesus is the better righteousness... we need HIM!! (Yay Jesus).

What I love is that alot of these students don't just hear the words, they go home and wrestle with what it means. One of the things I tried to point out was that if all of our righteousness is insufficient apart from Jesus, we must be very careful about judging anyone elses righteousness. Instead, we should make our aim to spread love recklessly and fervently as long as we both shall live.

This amazing young lady (Jackie... Hi Jackie) who I'm sad to think about leaving really started to wrestle with the implications of this. What about truth? What about people who believe differently than I do? Whose right? Does it make a difference?

When I read her blog I was encouraged to see how this amazing young woman wrestles with truth, because it matters to her. It's also encouraging to know that she not only wants to know the truth, but she's got her eye on the mission. She brought a guy who she's been friend with for a long time. He's grown up outside the Church and has some real, honest questions. He came and I think he enjoyed it. We certainly enjoyed having him. He's a super sharp guy with a razor wit, a great sense of humor, and a comfortable presence. I hope he comes back.

Alright, so that's all I've got. I think I got out of the practice of this... either that or the heat coupled with a head full of sputum has made my thought process less than linear. Whatever the case... here's to life!

An Epic On the Nature of Man: Readers digest version

It seems like nobody blogs anymore. It's summer time. I understand. I don't feel like blogging today much either. I'm sick. Everything is sore. I think I have a fever. I want to go to sleep. Until we meet again...

Go... or the fast way to get there

Here's a revelation for those of you who don't know me, an perhaps the greatest "duh" statement in the history of the spoken word for those who do... I'm an extremely undisciplined person. Really (I mean really in the sense of "truly" and in the sense of "degree").

The sad reality, the absolute truth, and the undeniable fact in the whole matter is that without discipline... I am worthless. Of course of course, I'm somebody to God... He loved me enough to die for me and all that good stuff. Those are all truths that I stake my life on. But it's like my little man Jackson. I love him more than anything in the universe and there's nothing that can change that. But if he's 16 years old and hasnt' disciplined himself to walk or talk or feed himself, it'll be nothing short of mind numbingly sad. Discipline is what makes us able to grow, go deeper, find richness in life that is just below the surface... and way below the surface.

There's this war in my brain though. Part of me wants to think that discipline is the killer of joy and fun. It's like Silas in the Davinci Code - somehow God wants me to feel tremendous amounts of excruciating pain. It's good for me. Builds character.

But on the other side of my brain I realize that training and discipline is good. I used to be a college baseball player. It was hard work. I used to wake up at 5:00 in the morning to run miles after countless miles. Then I'd go to class, only to return to the west Texas sun in the afternoon to run more miles. The goal was to get on the field in crunch time, and it wasn't that the miles run made me more appealing to the coach, or made him like me better... it was that because of the miles I had run, I was in condition to get the job done. The discipline of exercise and fitness allowed me to do what I wanted to do.

One more analogy... A river without banks is a pond. If there are no banks, eventually the water will find it's own level and quit flowing. It becomes stagnant. But when you channel water in a direction, it becomes this amazing force of nature that is literally as unstoppable as any natural thing. The banks give the river its power. Discipline(s) allow me to build "banks" in my life to channel as much of God as He allows me to see and discover. Without discipline, my God experience will be and continue to be one big stagnant pond. It's water alright, but it sure isn't changing the landscape any.

So it is with discipline, or the lack of it in my life. I've spent a good deal of my journey with God waiting for the next mountaintop, or trying to suck every last minute out of it. What I've found is that the mountaintops get shorter and further between. Lately it's felt like the mountain around the Dead Sea...

So tomorrow I'm beginning a fast of Soft Drinks. Namely, no caffeinated, carbonated, or artificially sweetened beverage will not enter my gullet. If I don't die first, I'm sure this will be a great exercise.

My desire is to find God in the crucifixion of my flesh. Paul said, "I have been crucified... and the life I live in the body I live in Christ Jesus." I can quote that verse - name it and claim it and all that - but it's not true for me. It was true for Paul, and in a substitutionary sort of way it's true... but it's not really true. The life I live in the body actually resembles Christ very little sometimes. So this isn't some effort to curry favor with the Big Guy or earn some brownie points through self-mortification. My goal is to strip away something that I rely on, and hopefully to hear God in the absence of me. I read a John Piper book about fasting, and I'll probably read it again (I don't know if I love to hate John Piper or I hate to love him... it's one or the other). So tonight I'm probalby going to go on a soft drink binge... tomorrow I'll be the one with the sugar/aspartame hangover and about 4:00 I'll have the screaming headache that won't go away. We'll see how it goes.

Postmodernism & Willow Creek

I had a great opportunity to get into a coversation on another blog about Postmodernism in the church. While there were only a few voices at the time, there were some pretty good thoughts put out there. I realized was that there's some misinformation out there about what PM is and what it means to the church... so this isn't by any means an educated rant, it's just a few thoughts that I've picked up and put together. I'd love to hear your thoughts...

First... the term postmodernism is more descriptive of an entire generation of thought & philosophy that's presenting itself. It relates to the Church primarily as the Church takes up the call to reach the generations of people who are growing up with a postmodern mindset (note: a similar shift happened during the enlightenment. Copious amounts of new information caused people to change the way they saw the church, God, and their world. Also, the word "post" is neutral, and simply means after. So this new frame of reference is simply the mindset that is taking shape after the "modern" period. Modern doesn't mean "now.")

So, with postmodern children, teens, and others coming into their own, the church must respond. That's where the term "Emerging Church" comes in handy. This new "postmodern" church is emerging out of the modern church and all that it stood for. Again, post doesn't mean bad any more than a Post Script (P.S.) means that everything that came before it was bad. It simply means that there is something else. So I prefer the term "Emerging Church" with an understanding that my frame of reference and mindset is "postmodern," or somewhere on the scale between thoroughly modern and thoroughly postmodern.

This can all sound like a lot of mumbo jumbo, but there are some very real practical differences. For instance, I would say that the period in church history directly preceeding this one (and indeed, still going in in many ways. There's always going to be overlap) would be characterized by the "seeker sensitive mega-church." Churches like Saddleback, Willow Creek, Northpoint, etc. became intensely focused on mobilizing Christians to reach the lost. There was and is amazing fruit from these churches and indeed this whole mindset. One of the hilights of my year is going to Willow's Leadership Summit. But I digress. These seeker sensitive churches aimed at making worship and God more accessible. They tried to talk more in the language of every man, and create experiences that every man was used to. Their values were excellence, growth, multiplication, etc. The goal of making God accessible was and is a good one. However when people started to think and process life differently, te way to reach "every man" changed.

Results of that goal were that some things that might be deemed offensive were removed. Crosses, a lot of talk about sin, many of the historic traditions, etc. The idea seemed to be finding people who had found the church irrelevant at an earlier time and bringing it home to them again. As people re-discovered church, and realized that it didn't have to be pipe-organs and red carpets, they found their way back to church, and hopefully God in the end.

The Emerging church (leaders like Brian McLaren, Dan Kimball, Chris Seay, Leonard Sweet, Kyle Lake, et al) began to see, however, that there was a group of people who were turned off by this, or atleast not attracted to it. They were starting to see a demographic that wanted, needed, and was crying out for a thoroughly spiritual experience. This group was already spiritually minded, seeking answers in spiritual places... eastern mysticism, new age philosophy, wicca, etc. So maybe the answer wasn't to remove all these symbols and ideas of Christianity, but maybe the answer was to bring back the ancient symbols and traditions, and let them find meaning for a new generation that was hungry for a truly spiritual experience. The "Worship Service" moved from 4 songs and an upbeat message to a "Worship Gathering" where the bible discussion, worship music, tangible worship experiences were interwoven and community driven throughout. It became much less linear and much more organic.

There is no such thing as a model for the Emerging Church, because the goal is a gathering that finds God in ways authentic to the people who are gathering. I can't be just like UBC in Waco, because I live in San Antonio. But there is a tie that binds, and this is where some people (I think) get antsy. One of the great (misinformed, I believe) criticisms of the Emerging Church is that it doesn't stand for anything, it relegates truth to relativity, and it's soft on the concept of sin. My experience is anything but. However, what I have seen that really excites me about the emerging church, is that it openly and freely admits that we are all struggling to make it. It's far less likely (in a perfect emerging church, that is) that a pastor or leader or emerging christian will point fingers and dispense "The" prescription to make it all better. Instead, the response would be to say, "hey, we're all struggling with something so I don't have any right to judge or criticize you because I wouldn't want you to do that to me. The things that you're doing are going to cause problems in your life, and God wants you to be able to get past those problems, and He wants me to help in any way that I can. So why don't you and I get together regularly and build a relationship so that we can help each other get where we need to go." The value is relationship, and group discipleship. Beloging before believing.

Alright, now the problem with this is that I've tried to reduce an entire philosophical genre to a blog. It doesn't work that way. There are lots of things that I haven't touched on, and probably lots of things that I've misquoted or gotten wrong. So, I ask for grace, and I ask you to share your thoughts. Thank you for reading, and thank you for being a part of the conversation. If you're interested in more reading on the topic, check out The Emerging Church and Emerging Worship by Dan Kimball, A New Kind of Christian and Adventures in Missing the Point (w/ Tony Campolo) by Brian McLaren, Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell, or An Unstoppable Force. There are also lots of good blogs on the topic, some that I recommend are A Generous Orthodoxy, and The Ooze. These are by no means it, but check them out and they'll atleast be a beginning. I can't wait to hear your thoughts.

Of baby cribs, holy altars, and sacred moments

I'm still getting used to this fatherhood thing. It's an amazing opportunity to be schooled in selflessness. Sometimes, however, if you listen just right you can hear the whisper of eternity in those teachable moments.

Tonight was a tough night for the little guy. He's very easily overstimulated, which always results in hours of crazy, mind bending crying. He gets so wound up that he freaks out. Not that big of a deal really, except that it's time for him to go to bed and he won't. Another thing about babies. They have this sucking reflex. Something about sucking really soothes them... hence the pacifier. The unfortunate thing is that they have HORRIBLE binky control. The thing they need the most is the thing they're most unable to handle. They cry for what seems like forever when the thing falls out. As soon as it goes back, they're fine, but 10 seconds later the thing comes rocketing out of their mouth... lather, rinse, repeat.

So last night I decide that I'm just going to spend some time with the little guy as he goes through the routine. He's cranky and a bit gassy (that's my boy!) but when he's got his passy, he's good to go. So I lay him in the crib, his face is away from me and I just watch. It was probalby 30 minutes or so that I was there, and it ended up being the neatest, most meaningful worship service I"ve had in a long time.

With his face away, we go through the aforementioned process of sucking and spitting the pacifier on the bed. He can't see me (I'm behind him), but every time it comes flying out, I pick it up and put it back in. In those moments, I sensed God tapping me on the shoulder.... "What do you notice here?" I didn't get it for a bit, but in the end, as best as I can tell, I got it... or atleast something. Little Jackson thinks that his binky is the most important thing in his world. When it goes away, life ceases to be comfortable. All the while, just out of sight, there I sat, ready to help and replace the binky if I could. There's no magic in the binky (metaphorically speaking). The power to soothe is in the one who is able to put the binky back.

I wonder what my pacifiers are. I wonder how many times I've sat sucking (figuratively, of course) at what I thought was salvation while the hand of Father was behind me all the time. In that moment I was humbled by Father's love. I was humbled by His grace. Rather than ripping so many of my comfort toys, He just continues to walk with me, comfort me, lead me, teach me. It's not always comfortable, and He's not always immediate in the way that He deals with me, just like I'm not with Jackson. But that doesn't indicate anything about my love for the little guy. I know that in the end, being without binky for 10 minutes isn't going to kill him, and it's probably a good idea to see if he can start to soothe himself without it.

God got bigger for me last night. He met me at the crib side, and showed me a glimpse of how He loves me. He reminded me that I was created for eternity, not just for instant gratification. There's really something to this whole "God is everywhere" thing.

Back from the wild wood...

A week at camp is a beautiful thing. Being a camp speaker is even better. I have two hours a day with responsibility, the rest of the time I get to hang out, play, relax, meditate,whatever it is that moves me most. This camp was a great time for me. It was the youth group that I used to lead, and there were a few that were under my leadership, but most of them were new. I have to say, it is an amazing group of kids. I'm of the mind that God is a gentleman, so most times when He shows up in a big way, it's because people are receptive to Him. Well, this is a very receptive group.

But it was a neat journey for me too. I was looking for God in a new way too. The idea that I've been coming to is that I need to learn to see God everywhere (that was the theme of the camp, strangely enough). So as I prepared, and as I escaped, I started to see God in lots of places. Too many to recount as a matter of fact. But I want to transcribe a section from my last journal entry at camp.

"Tomorrow I head back and dive into the world as I left it. My e-mail will overflow. There will undoubtedly be situations that have come up or will come up. I don't know what's on my horizon at work or at home. Even now as I write that I realize that I've never really admitted that to myself and let it sink in. That's a different perspective. It's out of my hands and out of my control. There's a bit of fear, a bit of trying to rationalize it away, but I can't and I don't want to. I can only play the hand that's dealt, and pretending it isn't coming or pretending it's other than it is doesn't change it. That forces me to God. God is everywhere. God is right now. I read a great line in my surprise me book, 'The surprise me thing is like taking a walk in a storm. It's a quest for potential. It's an intentional wondering. Wondering how the rain will impact us even as we're stepping into it. Wondering what we will find out there. Wondering who we'll find out there. It's stepping out of our comfort zone into the contact zone. It's stepping into the direct line-of-fire with life.' By playing it safe, I'll never get wet. But I'll never know the joy of dancing in the rain either. Father help me see life ahead of me."

The thoughts leading up to that were similar to a thought in The Story We Find Ourselves In that didn't crystallize before. Neo talks about seeing life from the perspective of The Future pushing The Past out of the way. Or something like that. I realize that I'm a bit of a reactor. Rather than dancing with what comes at me, I tend to be slightly backward focused, and then respond to things as they enter my peripheral vision. By that time it's already too late... the future is upon us. I like that. I'm not afraid of wondering what's coming ahead, but I want to wonder that as I step out into the storm.

"Life is like a box of chocolates." Forrest Gump

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's off to camp I go...

Monday morning I leave for camp. This is a new experience for me. This year I'm speaking and I've never done that at a camp before. I'm excited because I really don't have to focus on anything except connecting with the kids and sharing what I think God wants me to share. I'm looking forward to it as a real recharge time. I don't have a lot (any) real requirements of me other than to speak and lead or help with a breakout time. What I require of myself is to figure out where these kids are at, and hopefully help build a bridge from where they are to where God is.

The theme is "Outside the Box: God is everywhere" and the camp verse is Romans 1:20. The more I go, and especially lately, this is what it all comes down to. When I feel far from God or just disconnected, it's because there are spaces in my life that I haven't let Him into. At some point there was a moment that I didn't invite Him to come change, and I missed Him.

I have spiritual ADD.

The thing is, what an amazing trait of God... that He would let Himself be missed. God is more humble than I am. There's something to ponder. So I feel like I'm going to camp this year on top of my game. When I was a youth worker, the weeks leading up to camp were so hectic, that I was frazzled when I got there. This year, I feel like God's been revealing Himself, I'm starting to see Him in places and ways I never have before. Despite having a new little boy, I feel rested and refreshed. I honestly think it's a credit to the whole Isaiah 40:30-31 thing.

So when you read this, when you think of me this week, pray that God will use me. Pray that I don't get in the way of myself, and pray that in some way, something that comes out of my mouth connects with these kids.

Thanks God for this opportunity.

What did you expect?

Jesus and John the Baptist. First cousins, united in mission, purpose, and calling. One was the forerunner. One was the One. In the end, John fell headless into eternity. Jesus hung, died, and woke. In our college gathering, we've been looking at John the Baptist: Barbarian. Shamelessly pilfered from Erwin McManus, it's the clearest picture of what my heart beats for me... and for this amazing group of potential radicals that gather on Monday evenings.

One particular story I love, and am disturbed by. John asks Jesus, "Are you the One?" Jesus response is, "you go tell John all that you see here. Also tell him that those who don't lose faith because of what I do will be blessed." Translated: I'm not coming to get you John. This is your path, and you must walk it. Of course from outside of history, knowing that Jesus was on a death march of His own makes it a bit easier almost to read some understanding, maybe even pity in Jesus' voice. At the very least, a knowing familial sadness that things aren't working out like John wanted them to.

Then Jesus turns around to the masses and does something beautiful. In a rhetorically stunning teaching/barrage of questions, Jesus eulogizes John with pride (good pride), compassion, excitement, and clarification of exactly who and what John is and was. "Among tohse born of women, there has not arisen anyone greater than John. Not Moses or David or Isaiah or Jeremiah. Just John.

But Jesus frames the conversation with the question... "What did you go out to the desert to see?"

That' s the question I think we all have to come to with Jesus. What, exactly, did we go running after. I think I knew when I started. My "experience" was dramatic and, in my context, Road to Damascus-ish. In the moment of my beginning, Jesus made no other promise or claim except that He was the Way. It was enough.

Along the way, though, I picked up on things and added things to the point where I can get disappointed with this Rescuer. I'm like the people of "this generation"

"It is like children sitting in the market places, who call out ot hte other children and say,

'We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;

we sang a dirge and you did not mourn...'"

Jesus doesn't dance. He won't be deterred from what He's doing. He only gives me the option of following and being a part. The question of what I went out to see is worth sitting with for awhile. If I get that question wrong, the implications are far reaching. The reality is that the revolution of grace marches on. In my quiet nights, when I remember well, I know what I went out to see. It's only in the cloudy moments of disillusionment, when Jesus doesn't dance for me that I lose my perspective.

I love that I follow a man who isn't swayed by my whimpers and moans. I love that I follow a man who doesn't let me stay too long in my pissing and moaning, but continually calls me forward. With an amount of grace that I can't begin to imagine... He calls me forward.

What did you expect?