The genesis of this post comes from this short post on Google+, in which I said (rather snarkily, I admit):

If by "Golden Era of Apologetics" [Lee Strobel] means "An Era When Apologetics Will Continue Its Decline into Utter Irrelevance," I'm totally on board.

I was responding to an article/interview in The Christian Post titled Lee Strobel: We're on Cusp of Golden Era of Apologetics. You may recognize Strobel's name — he's the author of series of apologetics-oriented books: The Case for Christ, The Case for Faith, The Case for A Creator, et al. They're wildly popular books — several of which I have read — in which Strobel continues the project of Josh McDowell's More Than A Carpenter (and others before McDowell).¹

Wikipedia defines apologetics as "the discipline of defending a position (often religious) through the systematic use of reason." But before I go any further, let me begin with a story — it's one that I tell often.

During the summer before my freshman year at college I was going through a significant transformation in my faith. Having been baptized and confirmed Presbyterian, in my teenage years I grew jaded and considered myself an atheist. At the age of 18 I began attending an evangelical church and immediately did a 180° — but in order for me to make the cognitive leap (not simply the emotional one) I needed evidence. So I picked up a copy of the book Why I Am a Christian: Leading Thinkers Explain Why They Believe and dug in. A quick scan of the book's table of contents will inform you that I learned about how Christians shouldn't be moral relativists, why the miracles of Jesus actually happened, and why the Bible is scientifically reliable.

A few months later, I walked into my "Introduction to the Bible" class at Luther College armed with apologetic ammunition. It was Genesis 1-2 day on the syllabus, and I had hand-written out notes about how creation could have literally happened over the course of six days. My professor was notoriously liberal, so my goal was to put her in her place. I raised my hand, began my tirade, and was immediately rebuffed. I was disappointed, to be sure, but over the course of the next five years my faith would continue to mature — and the aforementioned professor became one of my biggest mentors.

I share that story to underscore the fact that my understanding of (and disdain for) apologetics arises not from purely intellectual study removed from lived experience. Instead, I hold my current views precisely because I have had real exposure to apologetics and its consequences in the life of faith.

Apologetics: A Brief History

As a discipline, apologetics arose from the need felt by Christians to "defend" or "apologize for" the Christian faith in the face of encroaching enlightenment thought. Look at this graph of the use of the word "apologetics" in books from the years 1800-2008. The word is virtually non-existent until the late 1850s when it begins a steady and steep trend upward. To put this into perspective, Charles Darwin's groundbreaking work on evolution, On the Origin of Species debuted in 1859. This is not a coincidence.

Darwin's theory of evolution (apologists love that word — theory) and other scientific advances put Christians in a tough position. Essentially, there were three options: The options were: (1) suggest that scientists are off their collective rockers and discount their findings, (2) suggest that science and religion are like apples and oranges (or head and heart, respectively) or (3) find a way to make science and religion compatible. In a time when rationalism and scientific thought were exploding, the consequences of (1) were that Christianity would fade into irrelevance because of its perceived non-scientific superstitiousness, and for the most part, evangelicals settled on (2). Eventually, however the pressure would become too intense, whereupon (3) became the modus operandi.

In his fantastic book Fundamentalism and American Culture, George M. Marsden says it much better than me:

When Darwinism brought about the second scientific revolution, evangelicals who had adopted this method of reconciling science and religion were faced with a dilemma. If they kept their commitment to autonomous scientific inquiry now, the very foundations of theistic and Christian belief seemed to be threatened... For most educated American evangelicals, however, the commitment both to objective science and to religion was so strong, and the conflict so severe, that they were forced into one of two extreme positions. They could choose to say [that] Darwinism was irreconcilable with Christianity — a new infidelity — and that it was speculative and hypothetical rather than truly scientific. The alternative solution was a redefinition of the relationship between science and religion... Religion would no longer be seen as dependent on historical or scientific fact susceptible of objective inquiry; religion had to do with the spiritual, with the heart, with religious experience... areas not open to scientific investigation.²

Over the course of the next century, evangelicals shifted toward an attempt to make Christianity compatible with science, which attempt resulted in "grasping after scientific straws" and made evangelical Christianity a "laughingstock."³ The solution? What we have today in books like Strobel's A Case for Christ — an even more rigorously scientific and reason-able justification for the faith.

Which leads me to one of my main beefs with apologetics.

Both Pro- and Anti-Science?

Evangelicals, who have been the most ardent proponents of the discipline of apologetics, are also in many cases the the quickest to ignore or refute the discoveries and claims of science itself.

A survey conducted last fall by the Public Religion Research Institute found, among other things, that "Nearly two-thirds (66%) of white mainline Protestants, 61% of Catholics, and 77% of the unaffiliated believe humans and other living things evolved over time, compared to only about one-third (32%) of white evangelicals." The trend is similar (though not quite as dramatic) for climate change.

It simply isn't intellectually honest to employ the methods of science to defend the faith while simultaneously disputing the validity of certain scientific claims. Which is to say, you can't "use" science as a means only when it's helpful to your ends. Pardon the baseball analogy, but it would be akin to using advanced sabermetrics to justify the purchase of several free-agent baseball players while arguing that Wins Above Replacement (WAR) is a useless statistic. If you buy into advanced sabermetrics as an evaluative discipline for evaluating baseball players, WAR is a non-negotiable. Likewise with science and evolution/climate change.

Moving on.

Hands, Heart, Head

In the aforementioned article, Strobel says that apologetics is changing by becoming more relational and conversational, but it's all just a smoke screen. The end goal is still the same: Formulate and disseminate the best possible answers to skeptics' religious questions so that they will believe/convert/be saved.

In her book Harvest of Joy and Renewal: The Emerging Missional Way in a Rural Church, Melissa Rudolph writes

The formula that we often use in church is head, heart, hands. We come to knowledge of our need for something more and decide to go to church or to hear an evangelist preach. Then, as we are convicted of our sin and offered the grace and forgiveness of Jesus Christ, our hearts are turned over to God and we decide to offer ourselves in service to the kingdom. In other words, we are called, saved, and sent.⁴

Later, she hints at a shift in our culture from "head → heart → hands" to "hands → heart → head." As she puts it: "Perhaps the lesson for Christian communities is that opening opportunities for others to work alongside us is a way to introduce more individuals to the life of faith."⁵ In other words, the preferable method of "convincing" people about the "truth" of Jesus is by showing them your hands (what you've done/are doing) and not your head (what you know/say).

Regardless of what Lee Strobel and other apologists would have you believe, in this postmodern era, people aren't looking for evidence any more. They're looking for participation. A cause. What folks want isn't an answer to the question "Why?" They want an answer to the question "How can I help?" or "What can I do?" Here's one anecdotal example: In just nine years, the number of applicants to the Teach For America program has grown from 15,708 in 2003 to 48,000 in 2011. Again: "How can I help?"

A Truly Relational Apologetic

In the interview, Strobel says,

I call it "relational apologetics." This isn't your grandfather's apologetics, where we line up people against the wall and machine gun them with a barrage of facts. It's where we invite spiritually curious friends and neighbors into a safe environment where we can engage with them, listen, empathize, validate them as people, and help them get answers to the "spiritual sticking points" that are holding up their journey toward Christ. [Emphasis mine]

This new and allegedly kinder brand of apologetics isn't really new at all (but it is interesting how Strobel distances himself from "your grandfather's apologetics"). As many others beside me have pointed out, this is nothing more than a bait-and-switch which uses the façade of relationship and "empathy" to bait the "spiritually curious" into being fed answers. Here's the problem: Relationship isn't a tactic. Any relationship that is viewed as a means to an end and not simply an end in itself is not worthy of the designation of "relationship."

As Dietrich Bonhoeffer famously said in The Cost of Discipleship, "When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die." We find in the person of Jesus a call to relationship that equates to death — death of the self. We find in the person of Jesus a call to relationship that is about elevating the needs of the other above my own (a truly radical exhortation). We are not called to manipulate others with the help of whatever relational currency we may have amassed.

And that's where the project of apologetics gets it wrong. At the end of the day, the tactics may change, but it will always come down to helping people "get answers," as Strobel says, regardless of current cultural sentiment. They're simply convinced that people want answers (just look at the rising enrollment in conservative Christian colleges!). Unfortunately, it's more likely that the "spiritual sticking points" Strobel mentions are the fact that Christians don't appear to practice what they preach. In other words, it's not that folks simply haven't yet come upon enough evidence to believe, its that the hands aren't doing what the head is saying.

The Case for Grace

How do you explain grace? Here's one take: "I once was lost, but now I'm found."

Yes, grace truly is amazing. But its amazingness comes from the fact that it defies explanation. I once was lost, but not I'm found. Does it matter how I got from point A to point B? If I could explain — scientifically and in detail — how this amazing grace carried me from lost to found, would it make my story more compelling? Or is it more compelling if I honor the mystery and miracle involved?

If well-meaning journalist set out to write a book titled The Case for Grace, I imagine the book would be filled with stories about people who were lost and then found. The book would be compelling because of people's personal narratives, narratives which would likely defy rational explanation and would be less compelling if they were dissected, sterilized, and scrutinized under the microscope of rational or scientific inquiry.

Answers are not the answer. Grace is the answer. Grace that defies explanation. Grace that was, is, and will remain a holy mystery.

So while Strobel contends that "we're on the cusp of a golden era of apologetics," I am content to be the hands and feet of Jesus. I am content to be in relationship with you with no ulterior motives. I am content to continue singing how I once was lost but now I'm found. (Amen.)

1. The image for this post comes from http://uccfinland.wordpress.com/2011/11/06/apologetics-night-18-11/.
2. Marsden, George. Fundamentalism and American Culture: The Shaping of Twentieth-Century Evangelicalism 1870-1925. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980. 20.
3. Ibid., 218.
4. Rudolph, Melissa. Harvest of Joy and Renewal: The Emerging Missional Way in a Rural Church. VDM Verlag Dr. Müller, 2011. 47.
5. Ibid., 41.

The latest issue of Immerse Journal, a "journal of faith, life and youth ministry," features an article I wrote titled "Evangelism in the Dark."

It begins with these words:

It wasn’t only that I generally felt like a failure at it, as if I weren’t zealous enough to convert everyone around me or charismatic enough to make the good news seem irresistible; I have been haunted by the suspicion that evangelism itself has largely missed the mark.

In the article, I use the work of theologian Douglas John Hall (whom none other than Andy Root turned me on to) to make the case for an evangelism that is unafraid of setting up camp in the "dark" of questioning and doubt, and discuss how this kind of evangelism might take form in a youth ministry setting.

A preview of the January/February issue, including the entire first page of my article, can be accessed on the Immerse website until (I assume) March, when the next issue is released. If you want to read the whole thing, you'll have to subscribe — which I totally recommend.

Immerse Journal is on Twitter as well, if you're in to that sort of thing.

Next Tuesday, January 10, my friend Erik and I are launching a new e-newsletter called Recommended Reads:

Recommended Reads is a twice-monthly email that contains links to five articles you may have missed. We scour the depths of the web and hand-pick articles that spotlight creative voices with unique perspectives on religion, culture, and ministry.

Our hope is that the newsletter serves as a non-invasive (only two times a month) way of guiding people to great content from around the web. That's it.

Each email will contain links to and brief descriptions of five articles and/or blog posts, presented in a minimalist format without any editorial comments (don't worry, we'll never link to our own content):

If this sounds like something you'd be interested in, head over to the subscription form and sign up. And if you subscribe before next Tuesday, you'll receive the very first email.

F.A.Q.

Q: Why would someone subscribe to Recommended Reads?

A: We think Recommended Reads (R.R.) will appeal to at least two types of people. The first person is someone who doesn't do much content consumption online; he or she is interested in good content but doesn't actively seek it. R.R. delivers this content directly to their doorstep (er, email inbox) twice a month.

The second person is someone who spends a considerable amount of time consuming content online; he or she actively seeks out interesting content and follows links posted to Twitter, Facebook, etc. For this person, R.R. functions as an In-Case-You-Missed-It email, as well as pointing out articles that he or she may not have found elsewhere.

Really, though, we just enjoy reading and sharing great content, so we think R.R. will appeal to all sorts of people. And people are always free to unsubscribe if they feel that what were sharing doesn't have value, so it's a no-lose proposition.

Q: What type of articles are you guys looking for and sending out, in general?

A: Because both Erik and Jake work for churches, our collective interest is usually piqued by content relating to religion, theology, ministry, etc. But we're both also interested in a bunch of other things as well — pop culture, books, sports, technology, etc. That, combined with the fact that Jake has A.D.D., will undoubtedly lead to a few "wild card" links here and there.

Q: How is this different than subscribing to JakeBouma.com?

A: None of the links that we share on R.R. will be posted to JakeBouma.com, so even though the content we're sharing is publicly available, it is "exclusive" in that we will only share it via the R.R. email. Additionally, R.R. will always be sent out on the second and fourth Tuesdays of each month, unlike blogs, some of which tend to be updated erratically.

Q: Can I make article suggestions for Recommended Reads?

A: We don't currently have an official article submission/recommendation process, but if you come across something you think is particularly awesome, feel free to let us know, preferably via Twitter by contacting either @JakeBouma or @ErikUllestad.

Q: How do I sign up?

A: Click here to go to the subscription form, where you'll fill in your info and become subscribed to R.R.

I admittedly don't blog as frequently as I used to, but I do enjoy putting together the annual "Books I read" post. You'll notice that in the past three years this post has become much lengthier and way more self-indulgent. I'm okay with that. If you are, too, presented below is a full list of the books I read in 2011 as well as my "favorites" from several categories. (Disclaimer: All book links in this post are Amazon affiliate links). Previously: 2010, 2009.

Favorite Fiction Book

A tie between The Pale King by David Foster Wallace and Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell.

For many reasons, The Pale King was one of the most anticipated releases of 2011. Released posthumously, it's an unfinished novel pieced together by DFW's longtime editor and friend, Michael Pietsch (who actually wrote back when I contacted him); it could even be argued that the unfinished state of the work invalidates its designation as a "novel" or even a "book". Nevertheless, The Pale King is in many parts DFW at his best — I frequently found myself dumbfounded by his lexical acuity and virtuosic storytelling ability. It was totally bittersweet to read the "Notes and Asides" tucked in the back the book, which contain fragments of written notes and possible story arcs.

I "discovered" David Mitchell by doing a Google search along the lines of "Authors for fans of David Foster Wallace." Somebody suggested Mitchell, so I read The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet early in the year, enjoyed it, and decided to pick up Cloud Atlas for honeymoon reading. The sheer scope of this book is almost absurd, yet Mitchell manages to weave together what amounts to six mini-novels in a beautifully imaginative way. One of the ways I judge whether or not a book has truly moved me is if its characters, themes, and even individual phrases stick with me over time, and I find my mind returning often to Cloud Atlas. It'll be interesting to see how the movie turns out.

Favorite Fiction Book, Runner-Up

The Visible Man: A Novel by Chuck Klosterman. I've been a fan of Klosterman's since reading Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs back in 2007, and although I was somewhat disappointed in his first novel, Downtown Owl, I was eager to pick up The Visible Man when it released in October. I finished it in two days, which is (sadly) becoming a rarity for me anymore. A case could be made that The Visible Man's main character, Y___, functions merely as a fictionalized proxy for Klosterman's pop culture rhapsodizing, but if (like me) you're into that kind of thing, and because it's packaged in a rather compelling narrative, The Visible Man hits all the right notes.

Favorite Non-Fiction Book

Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson. I was tempted to choose Christopher McDougall's Born to Run, partly because in addition to being a great book, it helped catalyze my recent interest in running. Steve Jobs ultimately wins out, however — it was just too damn interesting. Because of Jobs' intimate ties to Apple from the company's inception, the book functions both as a biography of Jobs, and a quasi-history of Apple itself. I made the switch to Mac in April of 2008, so it was fun to read the chronicle of how Apple progressed from the Apple I to its current lineup along with all the ups and downs in between. Additionally, the fact that Jobs himself was both a genius and at times a grade-A asshole (the book is full of funny/sad/puzzling anecdotes), made for an exceptionally satisfying read (even though some people think it's overrated).

Favorite Short Story Collection

Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives by David Eagleman. I picked this book up at a Border's fire sale and read it on a single flight en route to Cancún for my honeymoon (it's only 128 pages). Eagleman, a neuroscientist by trade, put together forty very short — 2-3 pages, usually — and wildly inventive stories/vignettes about what happens to us after we die. I distinctly recall feeling a sense of wonder after finishing every story and actual melancholy when there were no more stories to read. Libby read it immediately after me and was equally affected. I don't do much re-reading of books, but I have a feeling I'll be returning to Sum sometime down the road.

Funniest Book

Mr. Funny Pants by Michael Showalter. Showalter is a comedian and actor featured most recently on Comedy Central's Michael and Michael Have Issues, and because his style of humor is somewhat distinctive, people either think he's hilarious or confusing. Or they don't know who he is at all. Either way, when I heard Mr. Funny Pants was being released, I immediately submitted my pre-order. I was laughing out loud even before I received the book — Amazon's product page features "reviews" from people like Zach Galifianakis, Paul Rudd, Amy Poehler and Ben Stiller:

"Showalter is a comic genius. This is, cover to cover, the funniest book I've ever read!" (Dear Mike, Haven't had time to check it out yet. Do you want to just write a quote and put my name on it? Best, Ben) — Ben Stiller

The list of books that I would describe as "laugh out loud funny" is extremely short, and Mr. Funny Pants is easily at the top of that list.

Scariest Book

Inside Scientology: The Story of America's Most Secretive Religion by Janet Reitman. I have a enduring fascination with cults and religious sects (even "popular" religions like Mormonism), so picking up this book was a no-brainer. Before reading Inside Scientology, I had at best a vague understanding of what Scientology is (come on — everyone knows about Tom Cruise), and reading through it left me nothing but terrified. From Scientology's bizarre and eccentric founding father, L. Ron Hubbard, to it's unusual recruitment methods, sci-fi theology, and us-against-the-world ethos, Reitman — in true journalistic form — leaves no stone unturned or unscrutinized. The most terrifying section of the book, however, dealt in detail with the death of Lisa McPherson, a Scientologist who died at the hands of fellow Scientologists and the ensuing legal battles over who was to blame about her death. Seriously scary stuff.

Most Disappointing Book

Green Hills of Africa by Ernest Hemingway. This past June I had the opportunity to spend two weeks in Tanzania with two students from church, and so naturally I brought along some books to read during the 15+ hour plane flights. It's possible that my expectations for this book were too high or that I had romanticized the notion of Hemingway+Africa too much, but this book sucked. It's essentially 200 pages of self-indulgent hunting play-by-play with maybe one or two interesting sections total. Green Hills of Africa is the only Hemingway I've ever read, so I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But you couldn't possibly force me to read this ridiculous excuse of a book ever again.

The Complete List

1. Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins
2. Booked to Die: A Mystery Introducing Cliff Janeway by John Dunning
3. The Bookman's Wake by John Dunning
4. Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives by David Eagleman
5. The Adderall Diaries by Stephen Elliott
6. Green Hills of Africa by Ernest Hemingway
7. Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson
8. The Hypnotist: A Novel by Lars Kepler
9. The Visible Man: A Novel by Chuck Klosterman
10. The Big Short: Inside the Doomsday Machine by Michael Lewis
11. The Postmortal: A Novel by Drew Magary
12. The Mystery of the Child by Martin E. Marty
13. Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen by Christopher McDougall
14. Cloud Atlas: A Novel by David Mitchell
15. The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet: A Novel by David Mitchell
16. The Night Circus by Emily Morgenstern
17. The Imperfectionists: A Novel by Tom Rachman
18. Inside Scientology: The Story of America's Most Secretive Religion by Janet Reitman
19. Mr. Funny Pants by Michael Showalter
20. The Pale King by David Foster Wallace
21. Before I Go To Sleep: A Novel by S. J. Watson

Unfinished Books

There were several books I started this year that I haven't gotten around to finishing for various reasons — lack of interest, ADD ("Look, a new book!"), etc. These books include (stopping point in parentheses): Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke (p. 278), The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace (p. 128), 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus by Charles Mann (p. 32), and 1Q84 ("kyew-teen-eighty-four") by Haruki Murakami (p.352).

Stats

(N.B. Page count stats include unfinished books.)

Total pages read (compiled using the page count on Amazon's product pages): 8549

Total pages read, adjusted for accuracy (i.e., subtracting 15% from the total page count to account for endnotes, etc. that are included in the total page count, but aren't actually read): 7267

Average number of pages read per day: 19.9 (Not quite thirty pages per day, but not bad, either.)

Average number of days per completed book: 17.4

Estimated books purchased to books read ratio: 2.5:1

Number of copies of The Pale King owned: 4 (Three US editions, one of which was a free review copy, and one UK edition)

Fiction vs. Non-fiction

Books read per year

Physical books read vs. e-books read

(And Finally) Most Anticipated Book of 2012

A Naked Singularity by Sergio De La Pava. Originally self-published in 2008, this book is being re-released by the University of Chicago Press in May 2012 (You can still find copies if you're willing to pay $150-200). My anticipation of this book stems entirely from this review from The Quarterly Conversation (which I suggest reading in full):

A Naked Singularity [is] a postmodern, re-envisioned, linguistic assault on the standard crime/heist/legal thriller... It’s very good—one of the best and most original novels of the decade. It’s one of those fantastic, big, messy books like Darconville’s Cat or Infinite Jest or Women and Men, though it’s not really like any of those books or those writers.

Sign me up.

In 2009 I wrote a series of blog posts called Advent Explorations both as a personal study of the first season of the liturgical calendar and as a way of sharing what I was learning.¹ I won't be doing that again this year; instead, I have something else in mind.

About a week ago, I received a lovely surprise in my mailbox at work. One of the parishioners who knows of my love for all things Bonhoeffer (and who is herself a Bonhoeffer enthusiast) left a copy of the book God Is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas, an Advent devotional comprised of material compiled from Bonhoeffer's body of work. It's a simple little book (fitting for the season of Advent), with short excerpts from Bonhoeffer's writing accompanied by scripture texts.

As part of my personal practices, I will be reading the devotions daily and reflecting on the texts. Additionally, I've decided upon both creating and publicly sharing an artifact each day.

Enter The Amazing Type-Writer, an iOS app which mimics typewriters of old and facilitates the creation of cool-looking type-written cards. While I've had the app for a while and have played around with it here and there, from the beginning I've had the notion that doing some sort of a card-a-day type thing could be fun.

Besides the ability to make interesting, old fashioned-looking cards, the app has several unique features that make it stand out. First, like an actual typewriter, the "delete" key doesn't actually delete anything — it simply moves the cursor one space back, forcing you to either A) type another character over the original or B) start the entire card over. ² Second, you can move the cursor anywhere on the card, and it's difficult to ascertain where the character will actually end up until after you actually type it. That, coupled with the no-delete feature (not to mention the app's authentic typewriter sounds), make creating one of these cards an exercise in both patience and forethought — a discipline that, for me, neatly falls in line with the themes of Advent.

So this Advent, as I read through the devotions in the Bonhoeffer book, I'm going to select a sentence or two from each reading and use The Amazing Type-Writer (? iTunes link) to create a card every day, the first of which is at the top of this post. Unlike today, however, I won't be posting them on this blog; I will post each day's card on both my Twitter and Facebook accounts, and you're welcome to follow along throughout the next several weeks as I do so.

It is my hope that Bonhoeffer's words on Advent and Christmas, coupled with my commitment to the practice of creating and sharing these cards, not only heighten my own awareness of the hopeful and expectant nature of Advent, but may also be a blessing to others.

1. If you have no idea what Advent is and aren't particularly jazzed about the idea of reading a bunch of old blog posts about it, I recommend as a primer this short video: Advent in 2 minutes.
2. You can see the result of this on the word "As" on the second line of the card at the top of this post. I originally accidentally typed "Ad" and had to go back and hammer the "s" key over the "d" several times to compensate.

One week ago today, I sent the following message to Twitter and Facebook: "Hey, runners: Is it unrealistic for me to go from out of shape to completely trained for a half marathon in 10 weeks? Am I crazy?"

See, I had just decided that I was going to be a runner — if not permanently, then at least for the next ten weeks while training for the Des Moines Marathon.¹ Keep in mind the fact that not once in my entire life have I run for "pleasure". In fact, I don't think I can recall a single positive running-related experience.²

I received lots of feedback ("You can do it!" and/or "You're insane!"), but my favorite response was from Shawn, a great friend of mine: "Remember how you got really good at poker really fast? Or how you got really good at playing guitar really fast? So, I think if you use that same mentality you can pretty much do anything. Also, listen to our favorite christmas song while running and you'll be fine. You'll probably go really fast actually." And he's right: I have a history of developing small-scale obsessions, and running is a convenient remedy for my most recent bout of obsessionlessness.

So I found a training schedule and the following morning I hit the road on my first ever run-for-pleasure.

One week and four runs later, here are a few of my initial thoughts.

It's as much about how you feel afterwards as it is about the exercise itself

I've participated in some 10-week workout programs in the last couple years, so I'm familiar with working out in the mornings. I'm also familiar with how awake and alert I can be after a morning workout. I was reminded of this the morning of my first run — I arrived at work feeling energized and alert, whereas I'm usually dragging along with a coffee cup attached to my face.

So even if I'm not particularly looking forward to getting up early for a run, I can at least look forward to how good I'll feel when the run is over with.

There's something about every run worth celebrating

I've been using RunKeeper to record my runs, and it's been great to see my stats immediately afterwards — total distance, average speed, average 1-mile pace, &c. With the help of RunKeeper, I'm able to see that one run had an average pace of 11:17/mile, and the very next run had an average pace of 10:54/mile. I walked more than I would have liked during the latter run, but that's the point — I was able to find something worth celebrating anyway. During my most recent run, I was unhappy with my inability to breathe well, but I was happy that I ran all of the last 1/2 mile.

I'm not naïve. I know that I'll have runs that suck. But so far, I'm finding it relatively easy to find something worth celebrating after each run, and I hope to continue with that attitude in the future.

It feels good to be aware of my physical body

My daily routine essentially consists of getting up, showering, driving to work, sitting at my desk for 6-8 hours, driving home, and sitting around either watching TV, reading, or spending time online. None of those activities requires much awareness of my physical body; outside of eating (where I'm acutely aware of how hungry or full I am), most of my time is spent "in my head".

Running, on the other hand, is a forceful reminder that yes, I do have a physical body. From the burning in my lungs during the run to the pain in my calves afterward, I'm actually enjoying the experience of becoming familiar with my own body — its pain threshold, its stamina, its strengths and weaknesses. And I have no doubt that I'll enjoy feeling my body's continual transformation as I continue training.

As for the #RunRevRun hashtag in the title of this post: RunRevRun is an identifier for "pastors and friends to share stories about trying to keep — or get — fit." There's a standalone website/blog, and the #RunRevRun hashtag is fun to follow on Twitter. As the website's About page says,

Part of the challenge of working as ministers is that people sometimes view you differently —as if that extra cookie won’t go to your waistline, or time to exercise is automatically built into our schedules. We’re faith leaders, but that doesn’t mean healthy lives come easy. We struggle to get fit, to stay motivated, [and] to eat well.

That pretty much sums it up. So if you see me blogging or tweeting with the #RunRevRun hashtag, just think of it as me seeking counsel and accountability from those in the same boat as me.

1. Roughly five minutes after deciding to run a half marathon (13.1 miles?!), I set my sights a bit lower on a more-reasonable 5K.
2. E.g.: In junior high, I participated in track as a high- and long-jumper, and dabbled in 400m races here and there. At one Wednesday-night track meet, my coach, for reasons unbeknownst to anyone but him, penciled me in for an 800m race. I finished the race in last place, immediately threw up on the closest patch of grass I could find, and hopped in the car to go to Confirmation class.

In October 2009, while attending the Christianity 21 conference in Minneapolis, my friend Mike Stavlund offhandedly composed and sent the above tweet.

First, a little bit of context: Christianity 21 was a gathering of emergent-type Christians (put on by JoPa Productions) exploring the Christian faith in the twenty-first century. The event featured twenty-one speakers presenting on different topics for twenty-one minutes each. Aside from the great speakers, there were a number of things that made the conference unique and engaging — two of which led directly to my latest tattoo.

The first is that before the event began, a dedicated Twitter hashtag (#c21) was set up so that those at the event could easily participate in real-time conversation. Anyone appending "#c21" to a tweet knew that those at the conference (and even those absent) would be able to see it. During nearly every session, I'd invariably multitask: Ears attuned to the presentation and eyes darting back and forth between the speaker and my laptop displaying the continual Twitter/#c21 conversation.

The second is that Christianity 21 featured artist Paul Soupiset as a live-sketcher during every single session. While the speakers were on stage, Paul took notes in his moleskine with marker and watercolor, and the whole process was projected on a large screen at the front of the room for all to see. During the event I made a crude time-lapse of his live-sketching, which you can see below:

So during one of the presentations, while Paul was sketching, Mike Stavlund sent out the tweet at the top of this post.

Now, I've followed Paul's work for quite some time. In 2007, he donated a custom watercolor sketch for my website redesign giveaway. And I've watched with joy as Paul's talents have been utilized by Sparkhouse's re:form curriculum. So it was with almost zero hesitation that I half-jokingly-half-seriously responded to Mike's tweet:

Turns out he was serious. After the session, the three of us gathered to hash out the details. I swallowed my pride and said that $500 was probably a bit high for my budget, but that I'd be able to swing $300 (this is just for the artwork, not including the cost of getting the actual tattoo). The arrangement was this: I would make a $300 donation to Compassion, send Paul the receipt, and the artwork design process would begin.

A few months later, I was able to make the donation and the design process began. I sent Paul a rambling email which included this line "I would like an icon of Christ bookended on the top and bottom by a greek phrase from John 1:16 - 'grace upon grace'" and a terrible mockup I had drawn on a whiteboard (click image for larger version):

A few months passed (hey, we're both busy guys) and I sent him another email.

Paul,

I realized a grave error in my previous emails. In icons of Christ, his hands look different than icons of the saints. Attached are two pictures that show you what I mean.

From an online source: "In his left hand He holds the Bible. His right hand is raised to bless in the manner of priests in the Byzantine tradition. The first two fingers of the right hand are joined, symbolising the two distinct natures of Christ. The other two fingers touch the thumb, symbolising the Trinity."

Jake

Attached was this image:

In March of 2010, I received an email from Paul containing not only the final design, but several of the preliminary sketches as well. I could hardly contain my excitement as I browsed through the artwork he sent me. It was — and is — perfect (click image for larger version):

Then, well, life happened. In May of 2010 I met Libby, promptly fell in love, and pretty much forgot about the tattoo for a while.

But soon after Libby and I got engaged and started planning the wedding, honeymoon, &c., we began talking about getting tattoos as "wedding gifts" for one another. I would of course get the Soupiset masterpiece tattooed on my right forearm¹ and Libby would get her maiden name, Lennon, on her wrist. So we scheduled our appointments for a week after our honeymoon: May 27, 2011.

The actual tattoo was done by a veteran artist named Jack at Skin Kitchen in Des Moines.

After about 2.5 hours, I stood up from the chair, walked over to the mirror, and marveled at my new, long-awaited, custom Paul Soupiset tattoo (click image for larger version):

To Mike and Paul: A hearty "thank you" for making this happen. I couldn't possibly be more happy with how it turned out.

1. It did take a little bit of convincing for Libby to be "on board" with getting the tattoo on my forearm — she originally thought my upper arm/bicep area would be a better choice.

Untitled, uploaded by jakebouma on flickr.

“So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples.” -- Matthew 28:8

The Revised Common Lectionary provides two options for the Gospel text this coming Sunday, the Resurrection of Our Lord (i.e., Easter Sunday): Matthew 28:1-10 and John 20:1-18. The Matthew 28 reading recounts Mary and Mary’s experience at Jesus’ tomb; the women are confronted by an angel, told that Jesus has been raised from the dead, sent to tell the disciples, confronted by Jesus himself, and then dispatched on their way.

Not your typical morning.

Since reading this story several weeks ago, I have been haunted by one particular phrase from the text. In verse eight, after having been instructed by the angel to tell the disciples of Jesus’ resurrection, we are told that Mary and Mary “left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy.” These two human emotions -- fear and great joy -- are usually conceived of as being mutually exclusive. That is, a person either experiences fear or she experiences great joy, but not both simultaneously. These women, however, confronted with the earth-shattering reality of Jesus’ resurrection do in fact experience a commingling of these seemingly disparate emotions. For me, this raises an interesting question. But first, a brief aside.

The “fear” Mary and Mary experience is fear as commonly understood: fright, terror, disquiet, & c. Although it is not uncommon to translate “fear” as “awe” or “reverence” in the biblical text, the context of the word in this verse leaves no doubt about the proper interpretation. The Greek word for fear used in verse eight, phobou, which can be translated as either “terror” or “reverence” is almost identical, etymologically speaking, to the word used three times in the surrounding text as an imperative verb: “Do not be afraid.” All this is to say that yes, Mary and Mary were actually scared. End of nerd section.

Back to my question: In what situations (or the anticipation thereof) have I experienced fear and great joy simultaneously? Last night I posed the question to the group of high school students gathered for youth group. Answers ranged from graduation (fear of the unknown and next steps, great joy at marking a significant life milestone), to traveling abroad this summer (fear of mishaps and unknowns, great joy at potential for unforgettable experiences).

For my part, the first thing that comes to mind is my upcoming wedding. To be honest, being married scares the snot out of me (what am I getting myself into?!) and at the same time it brings me deep, nearly unspeakable joy. The description of Mary and Mary’s emotional response to the resurrection is so blunt and concise that it’s almost hard to believe it can describe such a complex human emotion -- and yet it does.

This Sunday, among all the pomp and circumstance that an Easter celebration brings, I invite you to take stock of your emotions. Identify those things in your life that bring you fear and great joy. And then, whenever “He is risen indeed” escapes your lips, imagine not only great joy, but fear as well. The resurrection of Jesus Christ, as one student brilliantly quipped last night, is not a novelty. It is joyous, dreadful, magnificent, and terrifying all at once. So like Mary and Mary, may Jesus’ resurrection imprint our hearts with fear and great joy this Easter morning.

‘Friends’ Without a Personal Touch is a review of Sherry Turkle's new book, Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other. In the words of Erik, "It's kinda depressing.": "As Ms. Turkle sees it, online life tends to promote more superficial, emotionally lazy relationships, as people are 'drawn to connections that seem low risk and always at hand.' This tendency to treat other people as objects that can be quickly discarded, she says, is embodied at its most extreme by the social Web site Chatroulette, 'which randomly connects you to other users all over the world'"