Losing My Religion

Yeah, I Could Have Probably Written This One, If I'd Thought Of It First

2009-07-18T08:25:00.003-05:00

This is one of my current faves. I love the counter-culture vibe Cash always had, and I really relate to the theme of the song. (They play this song on the local alternative station, too.) Enjoy!

Practicology (excerpt)

2009-07-17T08:06:00.003-05:00

Here's an excerpt from my latest post over at Communitas Collective...

Is it just me, or are there just too many “–ologies” out there? Theology, ecclesiology, eschatology—oh, and there are other multi-syllabic terminologies, too, like orthodoxy, orthopraxy, hermeneutics, rhamazeutics, and salmonellics. (If you can’t tell where I stopped using actual words and started poking fun—I just proved my point.)

It’s all a bit much for me. I never went to seminary—mainly because I never actually intended to be a pastor. I learned to study the Scriptures by paying attention in church, and my degree is in music—which means I can sing you the four spiritual laws, the nine gifts of the Spirit, the seven motive gifts, Psalm 23, and “Jesus wept.” (I could also probably list all 66 books of the Bible in order, if only I could remember how the song goes.)

That said, and taking my tongue out of my cheek—I guess I have always been geared toward a practical understanding of Scripture, and the practical application of it, both in myself and in others. I am academic by nature, so I think I’d do well enough in seminary; but at the same time, I have always believed that God intended the Scriptures for all of us, and I am very skeptical of scholarly types who make others feel like they are unable to “get” the Bible without their special assistance. (I guess that’s why I tend to dislike too many “-ology” words, because they tend to place knowledge out of reach.)

Read the rest here....

And This Time, He Brought the Fam Along

2009-07-14T22:36:00.007-05:00

Remember this guy?

Remember how he built a nest in my chimney and shacked up with some girl red-winged blackbird and had kids a couple of months ago?

And remember how he wouldn't let me mow my lawn without chewing me out and flying around my head?

Well...apparently, he and his wife really love each other...because they're at it again.

Only this time it's worse.

Actually, he's never really left me alone when I mow the backyard. He just lightened up. He'd jaw at me for awhile and then go find something else to do...then come back and jaw at me some more. At least I had a break.

But a few days ago, when I mowed the lawn...for some reason he was determined to make me go away. I don't know if they've had some scares up there in chimney-land, but this time I appear to be more of a threat. He never took a break. He flew closer than ever (without actually making contact). He was more bold.

You try mowing your lawn with that going on. Distracting and infuriating. I couldn't reach his kids even if I wanted to. I decided to try to get him to back off.

So one time when he was hovering overhead...I threw a tennis ball into the air.

I knew I wouldn't be able to hit him, nor did I intend to. I just hoped to at least create a larger perimeter so I could have a little peace.

At first, it worked. He flew away, suddenly, startled that I'd actually reacted. He continued to jaw, but at a distance.

But apparently, (duh) he interpreted that as more of a threat. The perimeter didn't last long.

He came back. And this time he brought the relatives.

The next time he came swarming around...his mate came along. So now I had two of them jawing and swirling overhead.

But that's not all....you'll think I'm lying...

Within seconds, there were four other birds, of some entirely different species, circling overhead right along with the red-winged blackbirds. Six in all.

I dunno...maybe these other birds were just curious to see what all the noise was about. Or maybe this was a gang from another neighborhood, come to join the rumble. They weren't really acting aggressively like the others...just flying around overhead, like, "Yeah, you better listen to our cousins the red-wings, or else."

It was freaky. Images of Hitchcock movies come to mind.

Maybe I need a raincoat when I mow the lawn.

So...I guess I've started a feud. Now when I come out back, I can't even get two steps away from the covered patio before two very loud, obnoxious birds start demanding what the crap I am doing in my own backyard.

I'm going to barbecue later today on the patio. I wonder how that's going to go. Maybe I should bring some extra spatulas to throw.

No, never mind...I already tried that tactic, didn't I?

Stupid red-winged blackbirds.

God Is In the Darkness (part 5: If I Descend into Sheol)

2009-07-14T17:30:00.003-05:00

Where can I go from Your spirit? And where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend to heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there. --Psalm 139:7-8, NASB

A lot of my ponderings about God in the darkness have come from this verse. And as I finish up my ramblings about this before moving on to something else...it might be wise of me to remind you of the disclaimer I made in Part 1, i.e., that these are reflections, questions and ponderings, not a statement of doctrine or belief. Take it for what it is... :)

There are two things that come to mind with this passage. First--the obvious message from these verses is that God is everywhere, that it is impossible to escape His presence. Not that we should ever want to. But it's important to recognize, I think, that while God is light, He is not just in the light. He is in the darkness, as well. He created both day and night, and made their cycle a permanent fixture "while the earth remains." (Gen. 8:22) And as Psalm 139 says a few verses later..."darkness and light are alike to You."

In the previous posts, I've thought in particular about the ways we Christians avoid certain things for fear of the darkness, whether it be certain movies, certain kinds of music, certain places, certain themes. We'll turn off the news because it's all "bad news". Some of us have thrown away our televisions to escape bad influences. Maybe we fear the demonic, or maybe we fear defilement...or maybe we're just trying not to feel "bad" or "down." Call it what you will...it is the darkness (whatever we consider to be "darkness") that we are trying to avoid.

But here's something to consider: God does not avert His gaze when bad things are happening. He sees every sin committed, hears every negative word uttered, sees every atrocity, every tragedy, every form of evil. He sees it all, and does not avoid it. One might ask, "Then why does He not do something about it?" That's a lifetime question for another post: suffice it for now to say that He does things we know not of...but at the very least, God is present. He does not shrink away from those things we consider defiling or dark, and I personally believe it is His intense love for us that keeps Him among us when we are at our worst.

Does this mean that we should follow suit and fill our eyes and ears and minds with every evil that God sees? Of course not--because we could never bear the burdens God bears. However, I believe there is a difference in motive between legitimately guarding our hearts and simply disengaging from the dark and grotesque because it makes us uncomfortable. One is wisdom, and the other is selfish--and I think we do confuse one for the other. Just as God is present in the darkness...sometimes people need to know we are present, too.

Another thing to consider...one commenter sent me an email referring to the "dark night of the soul", that place of testing where we feel overwhelmed and alone, and God does not seem to be present, although He is. Space can't permit me to elaborate here, but I've gone through a season like this, and I can usually tell when someone else has, too. It's something that can only be appreciated when you have gone through it, and it also seems that it is a necessary part of the journey for anyone who genuinely wants more than a surface relationship with Christ. I say this because, if I can be totally honest--I don't find too many Christians who bear the fruit of this experience. Those who do, will speak of it freely. Those who have not experienced it tend either to talk about some "rough patch" in their lives as though they completely understand--or to avoid the conversation entirely because, again, it makes them uncomfortable. They don't want to go there. And there are also those who will intellectualize and say that there is no such thing as a "dark night of the soul", that this is the invention of mystics.

I say all this because it occurs to me that perhaps the dark night of the soul is more voluntary than we realize. If we spend so much time avoiding the darkness, we will do all we can to avoid this season as well. What we might not realize is that God is in that darkness, and as long as we avoid it...we are potentially cheating ourselves of a level of growth and a depth of intimacy with God that we would not know otherwise. We might think we are protecting ourselves by this avoidance of "darkness", but we might be surprised to discover Whom we are "protecting" ourselves from.

The second thing that comes to mind from these verses is more speculation than anything...

This idea that God is in "Sheol", if we're honest, might be a bit of a stumbling block to us. "Sheol" in Hebrew means the underworld, a place of punishment--essentially the Hebrews' primitive concept of hell. (It doesn't just mean the place of the dead--there is a definite negative vibe to this word.)

Now, I realize that there are some Christians who either downplay the existence of hell or question its existence entirely. So while I don't judge those who struggle with this (and consider some of them to be my friends)...I believe that hell does exist, that eternal punishment is a doctrine of Scripture, although I do recognize that Scripture doesn't give many specifics about what hell is or what it is like. (I wrote a post about this awhile back, if you're interested.) Just so you understand that what I'm about to speculate on assumes the existence of hell. :)

What is a more significant point of discussion for me is not whether hell exists...but the very idea that God is there--that we couldn't escape God by going there!

This challenges my own pre-conceived ideas about what hell is, because I've always pictured hell as a place devoid of the presence of God--a place of eternal separation from Him. To me, that was the whole reason it was such a place of torment. After all...while we live and breathe here on earth, God is here with us, whether we recognize Him or not, whether or not we even believe in Him. "In Him we live, and move, and have our being." The very breath in our lungs is evidence of His presence and grace. Even being aware of God, I can't imagine what it would be like if He weren't around--how absolutely awful that would be. That is how I've pictured hell and torment--an eternity without Him. (I can't remember if I was ever specifically taught this, but it seems to fit the typical evangelical idea.)

But what if the premise is wrong here? What if the reason for the torment of hell is not because God isn't there--but because He is there?

In Jesus' story of the rich man and Lazarus, He gives us a brief glimpse into the underworld. He describes the rich man finding himself in Hades and in torment, and seeing Lazarus safe in "Abraham's bosom" across an impassable chasm--able to see him, but not able to get to him.

What if that's what hell is like--being able to see God, but not able to get to Him? Or what if it's sort of the opposite--that people in hell actually want to escape the knowledge of God, but cannot do so? Either way--what if this is the source of the eternal torment, the "wailing and gnashing of teeth" Jesus described, is not because of God's absence, but because of His presence...serving as a constant reminder, either of what you wish you had, or what you wish you could forget?

Again, no conclusions here--just stuff to think about. :)

This is (probably) the concluding post for this series; we'll get on to something else next time. However, it being my blog and all, I reserve the right to change my mind if I come up with something else profound to say about this. :) Meanwhile...links to the previous posts are below. And feel free to discuss and comment about any of this...just be nice. :)

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.)

God Is In the Darkness (Part 4: Questions of Defilement)

2009-07-13T08:13:00.007-05:00

(You might want to get up to speed by starting with Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.)

Defile. Defiling. Defilement.

These are not words we normally hear in the everyday world around us...unless our world is almost exclusively filled with Christians, and even then the younger generation doesn't use them much. They sound kind of archaic, like "thee", "thou", and "verily." Yet, for being so old-fashioned, I think they pretty much describe the root of most Christians' fear of the darkness.

In the first post in this series, I talked about this from the standpoint of the demonic, about how I got over my own fears that anything I did, thought, or watched on TV might make me or my family vulnerable to demonic activity. But this needs revisiting because a lot of Christians wouldn't describe their fears in that way, exactly. For them, it's a more general aversion. Some would describe it "garbage in, garbage out", talking about needing to guard what we receive as input into our brains (which is true enough). But I think it goes deeper than that for some, a little more intangible.

I think in this case, the word "defilement" really applies. We avoid the darkness because we are afraid of being defiled. (Past my own fears of the the demonic, I think I was largely afraid of defilement, too.)

So what, exactly, is defilement? Simply put, it describes when something unholy or unclean comes into contact with something otherwise pure, and corrupts it. In the Law of Moses, certain things (and people) were considered clean, and some were unclean, and the unclean could not touch the clean. Some things (or people) were made ceremonially clean, by performing a ritual, and from that point those ceremonially clean things (or people) needed to be guarded against unclean things that could defile them. Sometimes, when defilement happened, you could just perform another ritual to "clean" the defiled item (or person). At other times, the Law called for the destruction of what was defiled. (I'm being very general here, but you get the point.)

It really is from this mentality that we draw our modern view of defilement. We're supposed to be clean and holy people, and the sin (and even negativity) around us can potentially defile us. So we avoid it because we don't want to be seduced into uncleanness. We don't want that stuff making us "dirty" on the inside.

For now, I want to bypass the more obvious New Testament based responses. I know Jesus said what comes out of a man defiles him more than what goes into him, and I recognize that the New Testament has freed us from these clean/unclean regulations of the Law. But the Old Testament is full of types and shadows that help us understand why this is true, and what the heart of God is for us in the midst of all of it. So permit me to ponder a bit more about the Law of Moses.

As I understand it, there are actually three levels of holiness described by the Law. I've already talked about the lowest level, ceremonial cleanness. This is the lowest (and weakest) form of holiness because the holiness is all externally based. In other words, the only thing that makes us clean or unclean at this level is what happens to us. We can't get clean on our own; we must be cleansed ceremonially, and then we can't touch anything unclean, or we will be defiled by the unclean thing.

The level above that is most holy. These are items that carry the holiness with them, so that when an unclean thing touches it, the unclean thing becomes clean. For lack of a better description, this is "reverse defilement." Instead of becoming defiled by the unclean thing, the most holy thing actually sanctifies the unclean. The sacrificial altar, for example, had this quality. A dead animal was generally unclean; but place it on the altar for a sacrifice, and it becomes holy.

The top level is the level of God--Holiest of All. This is the pure holiness that annihilates any unclean stuff that comes near it. It is this intense holiness that requires unclean things (and people) to become clean before entering, to avoid destruction. This, of course, is the principle behind why ultimately the sacrifice of Christ and His blood is so important for us....'nuff said. :)

Having said all this...can you maybe see where I'm going with it?

We Christians today live so much of our lives as though all Jesus did by His amazing sacrifice was to make us ceremonially clean, like the lowest level of holiness in the Law. His blood "will never lose its power", so we can come again and again to be cleansed. But for some reason, in our minds, this cleanness doesn't stick. So we ultimately end up living as sterile a life as possible, for fear that anything we touch could corrupt and defile us.

But is this as far as it goes? Is this the plan of God for us? I honestly don't believe so. From what I read of the Scriptures, it seems to me that God's plan is not just to cleanse us, but to transform us and remake us. I think "most holy" is a more apt picture of where He is taking us. I think He is making us into a people who can sanctify an environment by walking into it, who can bring virtue and holiness into unclean situations without being defiled.

To be a people who bring light into the darkness, not have their light snuffed out by the darkness.

Now, are we all there? Well, perhaps it's one of those things that is a paradox; Christ's work was a completed work on the cross, and yet He is still working that "completed work" out within our hearts. Perhaps when we are young in the faith, we are only able to aim for ceremonial cleanness, and that's appropriate. It is certainly wisdom to guard our hearts (see Proverbs 4), and certainly there are situations where a new believer would be vulnerable, and where it would be wise to guard him/her. (The same obviously goes for our children who shouldn't see certain things before they are emotionally ready for them--a lot of genuine defilement occurs that way.)

I've been a Christian for most of my life, and yet there are definitely some places I personally cannot go, because I am honest about my own weaknesses and frailties. So in some areas, I'm "not there yet." Probably none of us are, since this is a journey, not a destination.

But in general, the more I trust the work God is doing in my heart, the less affected I am by the defilement around me--the less tempted, the less influenced. And so I think in these areas, "most holy" begins to apply. I am more capable of bringing light to dark places than the darkness is capable of overwhelming me. And the less afraid I am of the dark. I think this is what we are meant for. So taken this way...the whole question changes. No longer is it a question of defilement, whether touching the unclean thing will corrupt us. Instead, it's a question of what good influence the virtue God has worked in us can have upon the unclean thing.

And so ultimately, this reaffirms to me that God is, indeed, in the darkness. He doesn't always reveal Himself in all His glory (so as not to burn everything to a crisp), but He is light just the same. And it naturally follows that if we are following Him...we're going to follow Him into that darkness. We have to see it, understand it, know the pain that occurs within it--but ultimately, we don't have to fear it. We need to go there, because He is there.

Does this mean we won't ever be defiled? Not necessarily; we are not yet perfect, and this journey isn't without risk. But if things do get a bit messy, Christ's blood and His grace are sufficient; we still have a way to be made clean again. At any rate, as we allow God to work in us, and trust Him, we have a better shot of making the unclean holy, rather than the other way around.

After all...how will the unclean thing become clean, if that which is most holy never makes contact with it?

Aaand there's still more to say...stay tuned.... :)

God Is In the Darkness (part 3: "Untitled")

2009-07-10T08:30:00.000-05:00

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

I couldn't think of anything clever to name Part 3, so we'll just go for it and see what happens. :)

In this series, I've been processing some thoughts about Christians and light and darkness, and perhaps some misconceptions. In the last post, I mentioned how a friend had observed a bit of a dark theme in one of The Wild One's photographs, and how since I've let go of some of my own fears of the dark, I've noticed that I have gravitated toward darker themes in my own creative stream. I'd like to dwell on this a few minutes--especially from a creative/artistic view.

I particularly notice the change in myself when when I hear some believer talking the way I used to talk about these things--a bit of apprehension toward what they consider "dark". I think there's this latent fear (and sometimes not so latent) that by exploring the darkness in the creative arts--or by watching it--we somehow invite it.

I also think this goes back to a simplistic assumption that light equals good and darkness equals evil, and we demand that the media reflect that. And I'm not just talking about stuff that's overtly demonic, or perverse for its own sake. Many Christians are critical of movies and books that have sad or tragic endings rather than happy ones, or violence in media--and all they can really say about it is that it seems "dark." By contrast--too much of what Christians create is so bubble-gum happy and sterile (read: mediocre) that very few people can relate to it. I can't stand the Christian music station anymore, and I don't go see the movies made by the "Christian" companies. For me, I don't think my recent attraction to darker themes has anything to do with the seduction of darkness upon my soul; I just think it is more honest--more real, more believable.

Here's one example of what I'm saying. A few years ago, a Christian-owned movie company released a movie in theaters about the story of Esther, called One Night with the King. Many of my Christian friends thought it was amazing; I thought it was a travesty, because Esther acted more like a 20th-century conservative charismatic Christian than a Jewish woman in an ancient pagan harem. It highlighted to me the disconnect the Christian subculture has--not just with the world, but even with the Bible itself! We forget that if they really made a movie out of the Bible, it would be rated R or worse. Sex, betrayal, deceit, suicide, demonic manifestations, murder, blood and gore--it's all in there. If the modern church really stopped to think about the Bible, they'd come to the startling conclusion that the Bible itself would have to be banned, by their own criteria of what is "too dark." This suggests to me that we have either overdone the metaphor of light and darkness as it relates to God...or that we have missed the point entirely.

Yes, the Bible does say that "God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all." It also admonishes us repeatedly to "walk in the light". But as I mentioned in the last post, there is at least one other Scripture that counterbalances that idea--one that honestly has both encouraged and troubled me in times past.

Psalm 139 says this: "Where can I go from Your Spirit, or where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend to heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in Sheol [i.e., the nether world, the Hebrew primitive understanding of hell]...behold, You are there!" (I beg your pardon? God in the underworld?? I'll have some speculations about this in a future segment of this series.) It goes on to say, "Even the darkness is not dark to You, and the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are alike to You."

Apparently, this black-and-white picture we've had of light and darkness isn't quite as black-and-white. Do I dispute that God is light? Not at all. But God also created light...and also created day and night, and is Lord over all the universe--not just the bright parts. I think we need to consider from the Scriptures that even though "in Him there is no darkness at all"--God is still present in the darkness, the same as He is present in the light.

The point I'm pondering in all this rambling is that many of those things that we consider to be "dark"--the darker emotions of anger, sadness and fear, the stark realities of injustice, abuse, and tragedy, and so on...these things do not happen in a vacuum apart from God's presence. And contrary to how the contemporary Christian music industry might portray it, the perfect Christian life is not a life void of negatives. That just isn't reality. At any given moment in this world, there is a cacophony of good and evil, the divine and the demonic--sometimes occurring in the same room! Just because someone is having a difficult moment does not mean God has left, and just because something seems dark doesn't automatically make it evil. (And lest we forget--one of Satan's favorite tricks is to appear as an angel of light. Try tossing that wrench into our clean-cut presumptions about all this.)

So I'm considering the very real possiblity that darkness and evil are not necessarily synonyms. Certainly, evil prefers the darkness because it can lurk and hide within it. But if I'm reading my Bible correctly, there is Someone Else present in the darkness. God is there, too.

So why bother with all this? I guess it's that I get a little grieved and perturbed that we are so quick to write off certain things because we assume they are "too dark," or that the darkness is necessarily something to be avoided. In all honesty, it has been in the darkest moments of my life that God has become the most real to me. In fact, I find it quite interesting that one of the most powerful exercises counselors do in inner healing is to urge people to focus on the dark places in their soul, the dark moments of their history--to go there on purpose. Why? To look for God in the darkness--to go back to that place and realize that He was there. Some of the most powerful healing moments come within that realization.

Creatively, I know all about how to write a song that is filled with light and happiness in Jesus. I've written a lot of them--and quite frankly, I'm bored. I want more. And I think that's why the darker themes are inspiring me now. For so long I ran from the darkness, thinking I was running from evil itself. But what I wasn't realizing was that there's a side to God that isn't found when everything is all happy. In fact, people need to see God the most, not when everything is good, but when darkness surrounds them. I think that's why God is in the darkness. I think He's there because that is where people hurt and bleed and grieve and despair.

God is in the darkness. There was a day when that would have sounded almost blasphemous to me. But nowadays...it's possibly one of the most comforting things I could think of.

And it's a thought that's very inspiring to this creative soul.

We're not done, yet. More to come on this... :)

God Is In the Darkness (part 2: The Broken Metaphor)

2009-07-09T08:02:00.005-05:00

(If you're just tuning in, you might want to start with part 1--please especially note the disclaimer at the beginning.)

My son The Director entered his teen years during the season I described in the last post, when I felt the need to be especially careful about what came into my home that might invite demonic attack.

I could probably just end the post there and let you connect the dots. :) But I still feel like writing...

Early in his life we were able to shelter him more, to filter the music he listened to, the television shows he watched--and to his credit, he has also filtered his own life because of his strong moral compass. But eventually he began gravitating to music and bands I knew not of--and of course that made me uneasy. For the most part, he didn't sneak stuff past us; when he related to something musically, he tried to share it with us and let us know why he was drawn to it. So I found myself cramming to read up on bands and lyrics for awhile--because I knew not only would it be unfair to say "no" as a default, I wanted to be able to explain why, if we did have to put our foot down on something. ("Because I said so" carries less and less weight as children grow into adults.)

I had mixed emotions about one band in particular that The Director really liked, not because the content was filthy, or demonic, or anything like that--it was just that it focused on a lot of negative emotions. The word I used to describe the bands songs was dark. (Ironically, and even frustratingly--I actually liked the music myself!) Yet, because I couldn't find anything tangibly, morally wrong with the songs he liked, I remember reluctantly telling him it was okay, but sharing my concerns about how "dark" the music was, and advising caution. He had been such a happy kid, and I didn't understand why he was drawn to the darkness. (Later, I understood that he had been grappling with a lot of angst, and those songs actually gave his feelings a voice, and helped to bring healing to him.)

Nowadays, those songs are on my own iPod, along with a lot of other stuff of his. :)

Looking at the difference in our lives between then and now, I've recently realized something about myself that unnerved me a little at first--but now I find almost amusing. I find that I am actually more drawn to the dark than I first realized. And really, so is my family. And this seems to be reflected in our various creative directions. The moment of truth really happened when a Christian friend, while admiring one of The Wild One's fine art photos, also commented that it seemed a bit..."dark."

I pondered that. And I saw the darkness in it. And I took a quick inventory of the two short films The Director is finishing up, and the songs I've been writing lately, and I found that they, too, were following darker themes.

But wait a minute. We're Christians! Aren't we supposed to be children of light, and all that? Why are we doing this dark stuff? Are we okay? Are we falling away?

I admit to brief moments of paranoia :) But at the same time, I think it's healthy to hear feedback like that and take an honest assessment. So when our friend mentioned the darkness in the theme, I asked myself the honest questions. Everyone has blind spots, and everyone is capable of getting off track.

But I looked at it...and I don't think we are getting off track.

I think we Christians too often take our metaphors to the extreme, forgetting that every metaphor breaks down at some point. I think the idea of light and darkness is one of those themes that gets over-interpreted and ultra-processed and homogenized until it becomes almost a doctrine in itself...

Light is good; darkness is evil. Light is holy; darkness is sinful. Light and darkness battle in the heavenlies. Light always overcomes the darkness. People of God must not walk in the darkness, but be children of light. We are the light of the world. God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all.

Most Christians would agree with these statements, especially with the ones that reference the Scriptures themselves. But do you see how non-specific these statements are, and how we can potentially interpret the heck out of them? We can take the light/darkness thing so literally that anything negative is something to be avoided. And Christians do, all the time. It's what causes some Christians to assume that people who struggle with depression should "just get over it", and if they can't, demonic oppression must be involved--because depression is "dark." It's what causes our songs and our so-called creativity to be so mamby-pamby that nobody but religious Christians will relate. It's what causes Christians to sometimes become paranoid over any negative thing they might say, so that any negative confession must be combated. And frankly, it's what causes Christians to become uncomfortable with darker themes--that somehow those things are defiling. (I cringe at how I myself have over-interpreted this idea.)

I've come to realize that this sort of thing isn't really walking in the light. It's walking in denial.

Like I've said here, and numerous times before--every metaphor breaks down at some point. A metaphor can't be an exact comparison; it only paints a picture to help us understand something intangible. And I think we forget that light and darkness in Scripture is a metaphor...that the Bible says "God is light" (1 John 1:5), but it also lets us know that God created light (Gen. 1:3). How are we going to reconcile these statements literally--did God create Himself?

I said in the last post I was going to try and explain the title of this series: "God Is In the Darkness." But due to length, I'm going to have to save the specifics for the next post. (Sorry--I said I would try.) For now, though...let me offer another couple of Bible verses to chew on until the next post...some verses from Psalm 139 that have always messed with me when it came to my understanding of light and darkness...some verses that aid in the breaking down of this metaphor. Remember, this is in the same Bible that says "God is light":

Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend to heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, behold, you are there....If I say, "Surely the darkness will overwhelm me, and the light around me will be night," even the darkness is not dark to You, and the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are alike to You. (Ps. 139:7-8, 11-12, NASB)

Until next time....mwahahahaha... :)

God Is In the Darkness (Part 1: Afraid of the Dark)

2009-07-07T18:56:00.007-05:00

A bit of a disclaimer concerning this next series of posts. These are ponderings and questionings only, and not intended to be a statement of doctrine or theology. As with so many other things, I'm attempting to think outside the box of religious tradition, but not outside the boundaries of Scripture. So if you find yourself in disagreement with what I say here, please take it for what is is. I'm not holding this too tightly, and neither should you. Feel free to leave comments and discuss, but as usual, be nice. :)

Have you ever heard this riddle?

Q: How many charismatics does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Ten--one to change the bulb, and nine to cast out the spirit of darkness.

I have to admit that I have a tendency to overspiritualize things--that is, to assume a spiritual significance to natural occurrences, to discern both the demonic and the divine at work where maybe it's just a thunderstorm. I do believe the spiritual and natural are intertwined, and certainly one affects the other. I just think sometimes I am too eager to explain one by the other, too eager to interpret the data when sometimes it's just none of my business what is going on in the spirit world. :)

At times, this sensitivity about spiritual things has actually been helpful, and at other times a hindrance. In general, the hindrance has been when I would discern a demonic attack behind every negative thing that might happen to me, or feared that the wrong thing coming into my home--books, movies, something coming over the television, anything--might invite demonic attack. (In my line of work, I felt it was very important that I didn't leave my family, or myself, vulnerable.) I was very aware of spritual darkness around me, but rather than just walking in the light--I was trying to dodge the "darkness."

Then I found myself in a season of rest--partly because all the contending and "warring" over a long period of time, without seeing results, pretty much exhausted me. I began leaning myself, my family, and our protection, over on the Lord, and I began to be more interested in what God was doing than what the devil was doing. And I found, to my amazement, that as I did so, the attacks waned considerably. Those negative things that were signs of the demonic stopped almost completely. Even when the "wrong thing" came on the television now and then...peace remained in our home. It was as if the less attention I gave to the demonic, the less the demonic would manifest--like the attention itself was energizing the evil I was sensing.

When I hear other Christians talk the way I used to talk, I am reminded of this season in my life when I was so concerned about "giving place to the enemy". And recently in hearing it, I have come to a realization about all this that makes a lot of sense. Let's call it a theory for now:

Maybe it wasn't my "job" in ministry that invited the attacks. And maybe it wasn't even "darkness" coming into my home through the airwaves. Maybe it was my own fear that invited it. Maybe it was because I was afraid of the dark.

Abraham Lincoln is reported to have said, "If you look for the bad in mankind, expecting to find it, you surely will." I think in a sense the same holds true with the spirit world. I also believe that the opposite of faith is not unbelief, but rather fear. If faith is trust and expectation about God and what He is doing, then fear is expectation that bad will prevail. Taken together...I think that in the name of spirituality, I was expecting attacks of the enemy...and so I found it happening everywhere. When I turned my attention in a healthier direction, out of sheer necessity, I stopped being fearful--and I found a much more peaceful existence.

Just for balance and honesty, I still don't condone just letting anything into my home...but nowadays it's far less about inviting demons, and far more about what is healthy and beneficial. I also still believe there are times when we resist the devil in our lives, times when there may be a "spiritual attack." (I recognize that not everyone would describe it this way, but you probably know what I mean.) But because I'm focusing more on what God is doing, I believe God will guide me when there is an enemy that needs to be dealt with directly. The Bible indicates that Jesus Himself was led this way when He walked the earth; there were times that He directly addressed demons, but He also said that He only did what He saw His Father doing. In other words...His attention, first and foremost, was on the Father.

In short, when we live this way...we are letting God choose our battles. A much more healthy way of living, I think. :)

Here's the reason I start this series of posts with this part of my history. Whether we believers like it or not, we live in a world where evil abounds. I think that like so many other like-minded Christians, I was trying to keep my environment as "evil-free" and sterile as possible. But that's like trying to never get dirt on your feet when dirt is what the planet is made of. We are going to have contact with demonically-influenced activity; we don't have to invite it. It's as much a part of the world we live in as the dirt beneath our feet. I'm considering that the key to living peacefully in a dark world is not to avoid it, but simply not to fear it. After all...the devil isn't the only spiritual force in this dark world....

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. --Psalm 23:4, NIV

The name of this series of posts is "God Is In the Darkness." In part 2, I'll try to go more into detail about what I think that means.

Lifetime Heroes: Dottie

2009-07-06T08:08:00.003-05:00

I never knew Dottie's last name--or if I ever did, I've long forgotten it, because it didn't seem that important. Dottie was one of those memorable people who only seemed to need one name. Everyone who knew her simply knew her as Dottie. (And no, for any of you gospel music people out there...it wasn't that Dottie.) :)

I first met Dottie when I was a teenager, after an evening worship practice at church. I met her because someone said, "Dottie wants to meet you," and led me to the back of our large auditorium to meet her--like somehow it was very important that I meet her, or that she wanted to meet me.

Dottie was short, stout, and almost totally blind, with a weathered face that suggested that life had not been too kind to her in days past. And she had a voice twice her size. I knew this because the moment I was introduced to her, she uttered a loud shout, caught my arm, and began to pray. Loudly. In tongues.

It took me aback at first, and I quickly looked around the room to see if anyone was paying attention to this spectacle. They weren't. Apparently, for Dottie, this was par for the course, and everyone seemed to know it but me. I have no idea why I never got the memo.

After praying for me briefly in this manner, she hugged me, smiled, looked up at me through those nearly-blind eyes, and said, "I'm going to pray for you all the time. Anytime you need me to pray, day or night, you call me. I'm going to cover you in prayer."

And with that, Dottie latched onto my life and became my personal intercessor, my prayer watchman. She really didn't leave me a choice.

It turns out Dottie's loud, prayerful greeting was pretty much how she greeted people. Or, at least, it's how she greeted me. Because every time I remember approaching her at church after that, it was the same. When I called her--and I did call her, often--I learned to say who it was, then move the phone 12 inches away from my ear for at least 10 seconds.

I never knew too much about her past, or how she came to be blind, or if she'd always been so. (I assume she wasn't always, because one of the few things I did know about her past is that she had been a nurse.) I don't know if anyone knew her history very much. But with Dottie, it just didn't seem to matter. Her loudness could be off putting until you got used to it, but her compassion was disarming. She had no other agenda; she never asked for anything in return. All that woman did was pray.

As personable as she was, Dottie wasn't the sort of person to just sit down and have a casual conversation with--not because she wouldn't do so, but because it's just hard to talk to someone who's seeing things you don't see. It was like Dottie was always functioning on a different frequency, a wavelength you couldn't quite tune in to. She wasn't trying to be over-sensational, doing the sensational spooky-spiritual thing; but it was apparent there was always another window she was seeing through, and as she talked to you, little things would come out of her mouth that just told you she knew more than she was saying. And you always got the feeling that there was another conversation going on underneath.

Because even when Dottie was talking to you...Dottie was praying.

All through the rest of my years in high school and college, and several years into my marriage, I called Dottie regularly. Anytime, day or night, just like she said. Whenever there was a prayer need, whenever I felt under attack spiritually, whenever I was fighting my own demons no one else knew about...I called her. I told her things I couldn't tell anyone else. She became my confessor. Because I could trust her, and because she would pray.

Sometimes her responses were unnerving. I'd tell her something I considered horrible and shocking, and she would laugh out loud. I know now it was because she could see past the moment; she knew it would be okay, and that I'd find my way out. And then she would pray.

Other times, I found out later, she would call my mom (who has also diligently prayed for me all my life), and say, "We need to pray for Jeff." God would wake her in the night when I'd lost my way, or when there was some apparent danger on the path. I know this is highly subjective--but there were many moments during those years when I could feel an intangible boost in my spirit, or relief for my tormented soul, or just a sense that I was being guarded, and I would just know Dottie was praying for me. In my dark hours, when I myself was calling out to God, I would ask Him to have Dottie pray.

Like I needed to ask.

A few years after college, I was living out of state with my young family, preparing to enter my first full-time ministry job, and I got a call from my parents: Dottie had cancer. Late stages. Short of a miracle, she would die, and soon. She never told anyone, and never got treatment.

The last conversation I had with Dottie, you would never have known she had cancer. Her voice was strong as ever. I don't remember too much what we talked about, and I wasn't really calling with a prayer request. But I remember that for the first time ever--I felt like I was talking on that same prophetic wavelength with her. She'd say stuff that in days past would have completely confused me, and I understood her! For a few minutes, it was like I could see through the same window. And we talked about the things we saw. One thing I do remember is that she shared some things she saw in the spirit way back then, things that I think are just about to come to pass in my life. It was the most amazing conversation I ever had with her.

Two weeks later, Dottie was gone.

For a long time I felt the loss, even though I hadn't seen her physically in years. It's a great gift to know someone is dedicated to praying for you, and you come to lean on it. I have never been one to spend all day in prayer, and the few times I tried, it came out all religious and didn't really seem to do anything but make me tired. So I have respect and honor for people who are apparently bent to pray above the average, to lift up and watch over others in prayer, the way Dottie did for me. I almost feel selfish now, the way I leaned on her for that; but looking back, I don't have the slightest idea what I could have offered her in return. Others have been kind enough to cover me in prayer since that time, and of course, I learned to lean on God myself instead of leaning on someone else to just do my praying for me. But I believe God gave me Dottie for a season, to give me that extra boost as I navigated the turbulent waters of growing up and finding my way into those early years of ministry. I see "ministry" through a different lens now, but I know I was called within the parameters that I knew; and I had an enemy that wanted to see that destiny hijacked. God used Dottie as a watchful spiritual guardian who, along with my mom (another lifetime hero), literally prayed me into that season. She lived just long enough for me to tell her I was entering full-time ministry--not long enough to see it, just long enough to know her prayers had prevailed.

Dottie is a lifetime hero for me, and not just because she prayed. Through my contact with her, I learned the importance and value of prayer, how God works in us and through us--and on our behalf--when we pray, and when we pray for others. I also learned, through those little things like laughing at the horrible thing I told her, that what is now is not what will be. Dottie taught me to see past the immediate moment to the future hope.

In the midst of that critical season of prayer, Dottie gave me a Scripture, Jeremiah 29:11: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope." It is a Scripture that has been like a beacon for me all my life.

I wish everyone had a Dottie.

Book Review: "Strange Fire, Holy Fire" by Michael J. Klassen

2009-07-05T08:28:00.005-05:00

In his book Strange Fire, Holy Fire, author Michael Klassen takes an honest and unflinching look at the good, the bad, and the ugly of the charismatic movement that has been so much a part of his own background. Drawing from his own experience and the experiences of others for examples, he attempts to "separate the wheat from the chaff" by holding the various beliefs and practices up to the light of Scripture through Biblical scholarship.

In the interest of disclosure, Mike Klassen is a friend of mine. We played on the same worship team at ORU together, and after being out of touch for over 20 years, we re-established contact last fall. So I read an autographed copy of this book, complete with a personal note from Mike inside the cover--which admittedly might make my copy a little more attractive than yours. :) All joking aside, and despite the risk of bias, I purposed to read this book with the same scrutiny as I would any other, with the determination that I would be honest with myself and with my readers about any negatives as well as positives. In fact, I found myself a little reluctant to begin reading--because what if the book sucked and I had to say so on the blog? :)

Having said that...I read the book, and if I have to be completely honest....

...I loved this book. (Whew! It didn't suck!)

Having a long history within the charismatic movement myself, I obviously related to much of what he shares in the book. But even if you don't share that background, if you read the book, you'll come away with a better understanding of charismatic belief and practice, how it came about, and where it fits in the greater context of church history. In a conversational manner, Mike goes into some the history of the Pentecostal and charismatic streams (they are not quite the same), and the differences in belief and practice. Also, chapter by chapter, he holds up various elements of the more common beliefs and practices, examines them honestly in the light of Scripture, and reveals where they stand up and where they fall short. He exposes various abuses of the movement and reveals where the original meanings and context of certain Scriptures have been misconstrued at times to draw the wrong conclusions. He discusses the long-term fruit, both good and bad, and validates those elements of the charismatic experience that have stood the test of Scripture and borne good fruit. It's essentially an insider's audit of the entire movement, with a healthy amount of scholarship brought in for balance and context.

If there is any criticism I would have, it would be that on one or two occasions I felt that the theological conclusions Mike drew sent the pendulum swinging just a bit too far the other direction, rather than bringing it back to the middle. While successfully deconstructing some commonly held (but incorrect) beliefs and practices, his "re-construction" in the other direction once or twice seemed to me to be equally unsupportable by Scripture. (I won't give specifics so if you read the book you can draw your own conclusions.) Sometimes when the Scripture doesn't support one view fully, neither does it fully support the opposite view; in such cases I'm learning to be okay with the mystery of not really knowing how it works. :) So that's probably why I'd be a bit sensitive to this kind of thing. So much of the problem with our modern theology is that we insist on solid or pat answers, and when those answers are tested and fall short...we would sometimes do better not to replace them with new pat answers.

See...I can be objective. :)

Mike says of his own book that he wrote it "for people like me"--people who have experienced wounding in their connection with the charismatic movement, and who need to discern what was bad, and why--as well as what was good about their experience. The book carries a theme of healing throughout, expressing a desire to see people move past their pain and carry with them the great blessings he believes are ultimately part of this move of God. Those of you who read this blog regularly know that not throwing the baby out with the bathwater is a huge thing for me--so I'm sure you can understand why this approach appeals to me. :) That's what I see Strange Fire, Holy Fire as doing--helping to separate baby from bathwater in this movement, so we can keep what is good and do away with what is bad.

BOTTOM LINE REVIEW: Highly Recommended.

Destiny Reinterpreted (excerpt)

2009-07-03T16:44:00.003-05:00

Here's a snippet from my bi-weekly post for the Survivor Blog on Communitas Collective...

I’m observing that former institutional leaders like me seem to be in various stages of processing. Some are just burnt out from all the crap, and left completely disillusioned, even possibly questioning their relationship with God. Some have just walked away because they believed there must be a better way, and have found their way into more organic expressions of faith.

Me? I consider myself kind of an anomaly. I feel like I was dragged out of the institutions kicking and screaming. Yes, I was hungry for “more”, but the institutional circle was the place where I found the attention and acceptance I craved—mainly because my musical gifts were a commodity. There’s too much to share here, but my journey out of institutional forms into house church was God’s way of removing me from that system without me really realizing until much later what He was doing. And today, having led a house church for nearly 10 years, I now see myself as a “leader in transition”—having been in a more organic setting for awhile, but still deconstructing in some ways, and just now beginning to see a wider horizon.

But one thing that I think makes it particularly difficult for leaders who are “leaving” is this: most of us didn’t enter “the ministry” just because it seemed like a cool thing to do. If you’re anything like me, this was something you felt called to do—a mandate....

Read the rest here.

Selfish Christianity

2009-07-02T08:15:00.003-05:00

Cred where cred is due...Co-heir sparked my thoughts with what he wrote here...and this post below is what came out. :)

I've mentioned numerous times here that my rather broad church background (from liturgical to evangelical to charismatic) includes my family's involvement in the Word of Faith movement--which for some is associated not so much with the concept of faith it teaches as the "prosperity gospel" it promotes. This particular message receives a great deal of flack, and is caricatured as a grouping of well-dressed preachers who support their extravagant lifestyles by talking people into giving their money to them--citing Scripture to say that God will return their donations 100-fold.

My purpose here isn't to defend the excesses so many of us have seen; they are bad, and they are coming to light. (A major scandal in my own town about this kind of thing has resulted in major reform at a local Christian university in the past couple of years.) The only thing I would say is that our criticisms of any doctrine or camp need to be fair and as accurate as possible. When I hear someone blasting the prosperity doctrine because of the excesses of people who preach it, rather than talking about whether the doctrine itself is correct and why...it loses credibility for me. That's like saying the entire gospel is bogus because you know a Christian who is a hypocrite; it's the same screwy logic, just aimed at a particular part of the gospel.

(In fairness to Co-heir, I'm not offended by what he wrote, because he did include some substance in his post in talking about this, and I agree with his conclusions. I just know a lot of people who rail against things without substantial reason, and I don't find that helpful in ascertaining the truth.)

Behind the scandals and injustices that do exist, there is the underlying question that the prosperity message addresses: Does God want us to prosper? And if we consider this, it raises other questions, like: What is prosperity? How do we know if we are prospering? Is it all about money or things?

Truth be told, I find overdrawn conclusions on both sides of this issue, and both sides "proof-text" and stretch the Scripture to back their own belief. I've heard prosperity preachers tell their congregations that God wants all of them to be millionaires, and I find that to be a huge stretch. On the other hand, I don't see any substantial proof in the Bible that God wants us all to be poor, either. Some of the greatest men of faith in the Bible were also some of the wealthiest; Abraham was among the richest men of his time. So was Job--twice. ;) So while I don't think God's primary aim is to make us all rich by men's standards, neither do I believe lack is something that gives Him glory.

All that said...Jesus said we would know a tree by its fruit, and granted, that's a huge part of unraveling this issue. The excesses of the prosperity preachers is definitely fruit; but it's actually a small part of the fruit. In my view, there is a wider, more damaging result to the way this message has been presented, if not the message itself. My greatest criticism of the Word of Faith movement and the prosperity message is that they have produced a generation of self-centered, materialistic Christians. We've focused so much on how God wants us to prosper, how God wants us to have our material needs met, that our faith has become all about us.

In fairness...I've personally heard some of these preachers address this issue and try to say that prosperity isn't all about us and our needs, but about being a blessing to the world. But honestly, I haven't seen that take root. Instead, the same preachers who say these things will stir up their people at offering time with promises of breakthrough and wealth, appealing to the basest instincts of our greed. Our offering becomes our investment, not in the gospel, but in ourselves.

This is not the way I see the New Testament church described. Yes, I see the part about how there was "no lack among them" in Jerusalem, and the Scripture where John said, "I desire above all things that you prosper and be in health, even as your soul prospers." But I also see in the hearts of the early believers such a passion for Jesus and for the world to benefit from His coming, that they were willing to lay down their very lives and give little or no thought to their own comforts. They lived unto a higher Kingdom, and sought that Kingdom first, as Jesus taught us to do. I submit that they were prospering, but prosperity took a much different form than everyone just sitting around concerned about their personal needs. Their priorities were much different than ours, and the things they cared about, that made them happy on the inside, were of a much different caliber.

Ours has become a very selfish Christianity. We might say we care for the world and have compassion for the "lost", but for so many of us, our focus is still on what we need, what we want--and not just concerning material things. We come to our church meetings with anticipation of our weekly spiritual "jump-start", how God will meet us and bless us, what we can get out of the service. For many of us, even if we share our faith with others, the underlying agenda is that we come away feeling good about what a good Christian we are--not a genuine, selfless compassion for the person we're sharing with. So much of what we do is still all about us; we've become terribly self-addicted as a people.

Yeah, I know it hurts. I'm pointing the other four fingers right back at me. Get over it. It's the truth, and we know it.

This, to me is the fruit. The prosperity message hasn't been the sole reason for our selfish Christianity, but I think it's pretty obvious that it has fed into our selfishness, and justified it, made it stronger. This tells me that either this teaching must be outright error at worst, or unbalanced at best, not taking into account the whole counsel of Scripture.

If you ask me to choose between the two options...I believe it is unbalanced. I think it is just as much unbalanced to say God wants you wealthy as to say God wants you poor or doesn't care whether you pay your bills. The whole reason we have that argument going on is that we have missed the point. Certainly I believe God wants to address our physical and material needs. (What loving parent wouldn't?) It's just not all there is to it. The prosperity/poverty debate itself distracts us, and turns our focus away from the weightier matters. Christ is on a mission; He's invited us to be a part of it. The adventure is not without risk, but carries great reward. The material things, if anything, should be a means to a greater end.

So...does God want us to prosper? I believe He does, and I think Scripture confirms that. I just think our selfish Christianity has clouded the issue of what true prosperity is and what it looks like. I think this isn't about deciding whether God wants us to be rich or to be poor. I think it's when we lay aside our selfish Christianity and truly run after Christ that we will re-learn the truth about the abundant life Jesus said He came to give us.

Sunday Morning Christians

2009-06-30T19:48:00.005-05:00

Here's Nugget #12 from the Official Collection of Proverbs and Random Thoughts from Jeff the Twisted, Slightly Off-Center Philosopher:

"Lots of Christians seem to be more concerned about whether their fellow Christians are in church on Sunday morning than they are about how they are living the other six days of the week."

Well, This Doesn't Happen Every Day...Not In Tulsa, Anyway

2009-06-29T16:26:00.004-05:00

So last night we caught a news clip that they were doing some on-location filming here in town for this movie. So today, we thought, what the heck...let's go downtown and see if we can see anything. We honestly didn't expect to see anything.

Turns out we were wrong.

Just outside the building lobby where I'm cooling off, typing this...The Wild One and The Director (not of this movie, but you know, our son) are still standing with a small group of onlookers. They've blocked off some streets, and have a bunch of cars from the 1950's, and extras dressed in the styles of the day, walking and driving around the block, while one big black 50's automobile with a bunch of camera gear drives the opposite direction and films them. It looked like Casey Affleck was in one of the cars at one point...and between shots, a young blonde in a white dress crossed the street, spoke with one of the guys, and ran back across.

The Wild One took a look through her zoom lens...yep. Kate Hudson.

Right place, right time....pretty cool.

UPDATE: Well, we took a look at the pics. Apparently that was NOT Kate Hudson. The Director ("our" Director) is still at the set, and the crew is telling him she was not there today. But that was definitely Casey Affleck. Josh got a good look at him.

My (Sort of) Brand-New Dinosaur

2009-06-29T08:30:00.003-05:00

Some of my readers might remember me talking about the dinosaur laptop I have used in blogging, and how the laptop seemed to be possessed by a phantom that would make the screen get snowy at times, and make a set of keys stop responding for no reason. I learned to placate the phantom by giving it a "massage"--i.e., tapping the bottom of the laptop to get the keys to work again.

As it turns out, appeasing a codependent computer-phantom only enables it, and soon it requires more than just a massage. Before long, I had to do more than tap the bottom. I had to spank it.

Keep your mind where it belongs...

I inherited the laptop from The Wild One when she got a Macbook. She was ready to put the old laptop out to pasture because it was running so slowly, but I figured if I could get an already-paid-for laptop to keep working, I could have my own laptop, too. And I did! I reformatted the hard drive and kept it from having too many programs on it, and it worked well for blogging. I kept that baby running for nearly 2 more years.

But then came the phantom that would not be appeased.

First the power cord went bad, and not wanting to spend more than the laptop was worth on a new power cord, I bought one of those cheap generic versions on ebay. It provided power, but didn't fit in the slot snugly. (The battery went bad years ago, only holding a charge for a few minutes.) So I'd have to finagle with it and get it to sit "just so". Then, of course, the other stuff I've already described.

And finally, a couple of weeks ago...the phantom destroyed its host. Fried the motherboard. The death of the possessed dinosaur.

Let me show you just how stubborn I was about keeping this thing alive, and how hard it is for me to let things go. By the time the laptop gave up the ghost (pun intended), this was my normal blogging routine:

Plug in laptop.
Mess with power cord until the laptops A/C indicator light stays on without my having to hold the cord.
Turn on laptop.
Get online.
Start typing. Discover (predictably) that the batch of keys does not work, and the phantom requires its massage.
Pick up laptop and give it a hard spank on the bottom.
Watch the coffee shop staff snicker at me. (Or watch The Wild One roll her eyes, if I happen to be at home.)
Re-position power cord, now dislodged from having to move the laptop. Do this quickly, before the battery dies and we have to start all over.
Blog.
Re-position the power cord because for no apparent reason the A/C indicator has gone off. Do this quickly, before the battery dies and we have to start all over.
Cuss under my breath.
Finish blogging.

The Wild One was quite relieved when the dinosaur died.

I had no laptop before this, so I didn't miss it before. But now, of course, I am addicted. The next step would have been to upgrade The Wild One's computer for her business and pass her Macbook to me--but I'm not quite ready to transfer to Mac, and buying a new laptop was not an option at this time. Especially not a PC laptop, since at some point soon I will be switching to Mac, and I didn't want to spend lots of money for a laptop I'd use for maybe a year--even if I had the money.

And yet, my laptop addiction must be fed. So the solution was obvious.

For Father's Day, I got a (sort of) new dinosaur.

That's right. A ridiculously low price spent on ebay for a used Dell laptop. Big, thick, heavy, bulky...but in near-perfect working order. No scratches that I can see. A perfect, bright screen with no snow. A fresh re-load of Windows XP. An internal wireless card that works better than the plug-in I was using. Faster processor. A working battery, and a cord that actually works.

It's almost like getting a brand-new laptop--four years ago. :)

So this morning, I'm writing this on battery power, all keys functioning. No spanking. No cussing. Just blogging bliss.

And The Wild One is resting much easier.

But I think the coffee shop staff are a little disappointed that the show is now over.

Dangerous Thoughts About Love

2009-06-28T08:18:00.005-05:00

If you want to know why sometimes I like to make your brain hurt...blame people like Erin. Her blog is often quite thought-provoking--like this post about love and breaking the law. In it, she postulates that when it comes to a choice between showing love and keeping and honoring the Law (i.e., the Law of Moses), showing love and mercy should take precedence--even if it means breaking the Law on that point. (There's a whole thought process behind that conclusion in her post, so please read it in context before judging the validity of the statement.)

I figure if people like Erin can make my brain hurt on a Sunday morning, why keep the brain-pain all to myself? :)

Now, I'm not really grappling too much with whether the conclusion is true--I was able to form an opinion about it--but I am pondering the whole thing we Christians struggle with so often, balancing Law and Grace in the Scriptures, and where Love fits into all of it. Most of us understand that sin is bad, but we differ on what to do about it--because Law indicates that sin needs to be confronted and dealt with, while grace and mercy seem to let it pass, claiming that the blood of Christ covers it. Law and grace appear to be at opposite ends of a spectrum, which creates a whole spectrum of response among us--the extremes being either total legalism or blatant permissiveness. Does grace supersede the law? What about Jesus saying He came to fulfill the law? Heck, why did we even keep the Old Testament if it's going to cause this much trouble? :) You get the point.

What I am pondering is that between the apparent contradictions of Law and Grace is a single constant--love. The Bible tells us that God is love, and also lets us know that God never changes, but is the same "yesterday, today, and forever." So if God is love, He always has been love. God was love when He spoke the world into existence; He is love when He shows grace and mercy for our sin; He was love when He hung on a cross; He was love when He gave the Law of Moses; and like it or not--He was even love when he brought judgment upon nations, when He drove Israel into exile, when He brought a flood that killed all but a few humans. All of it was done by a God of love, and thus, I believe all of it was done with a redemptive purpose in mind for mankind.

What does this have to do with Law and Grace? Why is it important? Because I think the primary disconnect between the extremes is that we try to frame with our own reasoning what love is, and what love will and will not do. We define love on our own terms, and try to define God by those same terms--rather than see God for who He is and let Him paint the picture of love for us.

It comes out like this: "I just can't believe that a God of love would... [fill in the blank]."

There are those who see love and mercy as nearly synonymous, and reason that love will always be "nice" and show mercy, even when the law says sin should be confronted. These folks often focus on the idea that New Testament grace frees us from the Law, and that it is better to show kindness and tolerance in the face of sin. They (rightly) see how many times we Christians alienate the people around us by focusing on the wrongness of their sins instead of demonstrating the mercy and grace of Christ.

On the other hand, there are those who see only the harsh and severe side of love. They cannot believe a loving God would NOT confront sin, because sin is such a cancer to mankind. They tend to focus on the fact that Jesus came to fulfill the Law, not do away with it, and that forgiveness for sin does not equal permission to sin. They tend to interpret acts of grace and mercy as permissiveness, and even go so far as to suggest that refusing to confront sin enables people on their path toward hell. They see love almost as a search-and-rescue effort.

So who is right? They both are--to a point.

Here's how Paul put it: "Behold, then, the kindness and severity of God."

What I'm saying here is that we cannot define love by the actions that most suit us. Just as God cannot be boxed in...in many ways, neither can love. We cannot define God by our own definition of love, because we are bound to be inaccurate. We must accept the paradox that a loving God both judges and shows mercy, and be okay with the bigness and mystery of that.

So where does that leave us? How do we respond in love? With grace? Or with judgment? How can we even know what love looks like if we can't definitively say what love would or wouldn't do??

Thankfully, there's another element of love that can serve as a guide for us...and that's the realization that love gives, that love looks outward, not inward. That love always does what is best for the other person. Perhaps this is what Paul meant in Ephesians 5:2, when he referred to love not as a feeling to have or an action to take--but something we must walk in. In other words--something we must live with, interact with. No pat answers. Moment to moment, we must be sensitive to God and to one another.

I happen to believe that the opposite of love is not hate. I believe the opposite of love is selfishness. And that, I believe, is the key ingredient to understanding love, and what it looks like in any situation. Love is always looking out for the other person's good, and what is needed in that moment to help them come closer to God, and closer to healing. Sometimes that might look like a merciful embrace, and sometimes it might look like a kick in the pants. But if it is the response of love that reflects God...it will always, always be redemptive in purpose.

The reason this is so important is that far too often, we think we are responding in the best interests of the other person, when really we are doing it for ourselves. People who are excessively harsh and legalistic about sin are quite often acting out of their own hatred for sin, and quite often because they haven't got control of sin in their own lives. And people who want to show mercy all the time are quite often uncomfortable with confrontation, or are perhaps very aware of their own need for mercy and acceptance. (These are examples, not generalizations; everyone is a bit different.) And both approaches can very easily say they are responding in the name of love, because they can find examples where God acted accordingly, and it reinforces their argument. But at heart--love might not be the motivation at all; we're just gravitating to the expression of love that makes us most comfortable. In other words--our actions are based more on us than on the other person. That is essentially selfishness, disguised as love; and because it isn't really taking the other person into account, it is apt to be the wrong response.

In my own life following Christ, I've experienced God in both capacities. I've felt Him show me great mercy in the face of my brokenness; and I've felt His discipline in moments where my sin needed to be exposed and confronted. But in both responses, I've come away from the experience with the strong sense that I am utterly loved. This is how I recognize God in it--not in the action itself, but in the love behind it. I know that God is responding to me, not according to a specific protocol or rule book, but according to the need of the moment. I am thought of, considered, and known. And this, to me, serves as my best example of how I should respond to others in their brokenness--not by a rule book, not as a referee, but seeking to know that person, and to be sensitive to the need of the moment.

And for that matter...to try and be aware of what God is up to in that person's life--and not get in His way. :)

If you think of it, this is a consistent theme through Scripture, that the more we love (God and others), the less we need the Law to guard our boundaries or tell us what to do. If Erin is right that this is a process toward maturity (again, read her post to understand), then it follows that love is the fruit of that maturity. It seems throughout the Bible that God would much rather have us walk along closely with Him than have us skirting the fences to see what lines we can legally cross. When you're close to His heart, the rules become irrelevant.

So with all this rambling on...what do I think of Erin's conclusion above? I think, at heart, she is right. If we must choose between acting in love and following the letter of the Law, love becomes the priority, the trump card. But then again, those two will not of necessity be opposite choices. I think it is equally important to understand the nature of love--that, like God, we recognize the need of the moment, and do for that person, not what is easiest, nor what is nicest...but always what is best.

What a Week...

2009-06-26T07:15:00.008-05:00

1923-2009

1947-2009

1958-2009

(I used this pic because I think he was always this age inside...plus I actually owned this album as a kid.)

The Elusive Search for It

2009-06-24T08:15:00.001-05:00

Seems like everyone these days is looking for It. And not really finding It.

On all the TV talent and dance shows, the judges are looking to see who has It. On American Idol this year, it sure seemed like Adam Lambert had It. He stood (literally) head and shoulders above the rest of the pack, and was obviously the judges' favorite. But he came in second.

A few years ago there was a clever marketing ploy about a new invention they would only call "It." "It" was supposedly going to be one of those monumental inventions that would change our lives forever and take us a quantum leap forward. Turns out that "It" was the Segway. It didn't change our lives. It didn't replace the car or the bicycle. Seems today the Segway is mainly known as that funny-looking thing the mall security guards ride now instead of golf carts. Or that thing George W. Bush fell off of one time. (Wasn't that great publicity?) Guess "It" wasn't It, after all.

What's interesting is that I have spent most of my Christian life looking for It, also. It's hard to describe, but for many of us Christians, It represents the cutting edge of "what God is doing", or the catalyst for revival, or that revelation that makes us more enlightened or empowered than the church down the street, or that revival that instantly makes our church the biggest in town. The magic pill that makes Christianity a cinch. You know..."It."

When my family connected with the Word of Faith movement when I was a kid, I thought we'd found It. It was going to solve all our problems, help us live in victory, help us never get things stolen from us, help us never get sick, and be rich. We just needed to apply It to our lives. But after about 20 years of being exposed to It...I couldn't help but notice that most of the people going to the conventions all that time were not rich, and still got sick. What's more, we seemed to struggle with materialism and pride, because It was all about Us and what We needed and wanted. But people still believed that It was going to change things for them, and still gave their money to those who were preaching It. After awhile of trying to apply It during an extended time of trial and testing, and realizing that all It really did for me was add to my fatigue. I still place a high value on faith. But I guess what I thought was It, wasn't.

When I first experienced speaking in tongues, I thought I'd found It. It empowered me and strengthened me with God's power. It made me feel sorry for those sorry souls who didn't have It, who didn't believe in It, who thought It was from the devil. But even though (don't misunderstand) I treasure the presence and guidance of Holy Spirit in my life..."It" wasn't a magic pill that instantly freed me from my struggles with sin and selfishness. And It didn't make me better than any other Christian.

Then when I experienced renewal and holy laughter, I thought I'd found It. It was great! I truly believed this was the Next Wave, the Next Big Thing, because It really was wonderful. It was God's way of healing us of all the bad stuff that was on the inside, and for awhile It stopped the church people from fighting each other. It's hard to argue when you can't stop laughing. But after awhile, I noticed that we got kind of prideful because we had It and other churches didn't. I noticed that when God wanted to take us to other places, like repentance and the fear of the Lord, we didn't want to go. We just wanted Him to keep making us laugh. And I also noticed that whatever this was, It didn't just make everything better. People got up off the floor, and were soon just as ornery and deceitful as before. I know people have mixed feelings about this, but overall I think God was doing something. It just wasn't It.

When The Wild One and I learned about worshiping prophetically, and about dance and banners and all that good stuff, we thought we'd found It. For awhile, we were like kids in a candy store; worship became an adventure, and we never knew for sure what was going to happen next. It was what God Was Doing, and truly we experienced transformation, along with others who experienced this with us. It was not only going to usher in the Last Great Move Of God and The Great Harvest of Souls. But...over time, instead of worshiping God, we found ourselves worshiping It--and when we did that, we forgot for awhile what worship truly was. We found that people liked to try and manipulate It for their advantage, and manipulate Us right along with It. And again, It wasn't a magic pill. So while there have been times when we truly encountered God, and would never trade what we learned, and while this will always be part of us...it turns out that wasn't It, either.

When we learned about inner healing, we thought we found It. All we had to do was go back into our past and see where we had been wounded, where we made inner vows and judgments, and repent for those, and forgive people, and we would be all Better. When we got over all our stuff, we'd live in freedom. And don't get me wrong--we have absolutely experienced transformation when God showed us these wounded parts of our soul and helped us deal with them. And we've seen it help others as well. But over time, we also noticed that not everyone necessarily wanted to get Better right then, and we got in a lot of trouble when we started digging around uninvited. We also noticed that when people got too introspective for too long, they also became very self-absorbed, and counseling just became the new addiction. We forgot for awhile that part of the way Jesus heals us is when we focus on helping others. And...it turns out that getting Better is actually a lifelong process, not a magic pill. So while I wouldn't trade this for anything, inner healing wasn't It.

Time after time, I thought I'd found It. When I learned about spiritual warfare and territorial spirits; when I learned about prayer walking and friendship evangelism; when I found out God was restoring the Apostles to the church (which He is, but it's just not most of the ones currently claiming to be Them)...all of these were It. I even thought house church was It!

But...none of them were. Not really.

So...where is It? Where could It be?

It's only been in recent days that it's occurred to me...I was figuring the whole thing wrong. It finally dawned on me...

There is no It.

I was chasing the elusive magic pill, when what I was really looking for...is a Person.

He is a "Him."

All that time, I thought I was in pursuit of God, but really I was sort of chasing His shadow. The things I thought were It were quite often legitimate things God was doing, but I was chasing those things, not the Person. Kind of like going into God's bedroom just to play with His toys.

So after all that time of looking for It, and not finding It...I have given up the search.

So now, when someone comes to me all excited about the Next Big Thing going on, the revival over here, the move of God over there...I no longer worry about what I might be missing. Not saying it's all fake or anything...just saying I know now that whatever that is, it isn't It.

Because I'm not looking for It anymore. These days, I'm happy just following after Him.

Lifetime Heroes, part 1: Pastor Hugh

2009-06-23T07:00:00.001-05:00

Just as a point of introduction...

In the course of our lives, especially among followers of Christ, I believe God places certain ones around us who pour into our lives, who teach us by example, who build a platform of success under us. These people usually do so without any recognition or thanks (often because in our immaturity, we don't realize what an effect they had on us until after their season with us is over). They are usually older and wiser, and give to us selflessly, sometimes at great personal expense, because they love us and see the value and potential in our lives. I am referring to these people as "lifetime heroes", and I believe God gives us these people as an extension of His love and care for us. Their contribution to our lives can usually never be repaid, nor is it supposed to be. What we do instead is try and "pay it forward" as we get older, to pour into the next generation the same way these precious people poured into us. Recently I've been thinking about some of my own "lifetime heroes", and so once in awhile I'd like to share their stories with you and how they affected my life.

Pastor Hugh was a sweet older man who had been my wife's pastor during her high school years in Cincinnati. His church was one of the larger Assembly of God churches in town, had a campus of several buildings (including a Christian school where my wife had attended). He'd been through a lot already by the time I met him; he'd been involved in a successful campaign against strip joints in town, survived a scandal with one of his staff members that seriously hurt church attendance, and survived a heart attack shortly afterward. He talked too often about money from the pulpit.

He was also one of the kindest, gentlest people I'd ever known.

Our young family had already been living in Cincinnati for nearly three years when we came to Pastor Hugh--I for the first time, The Wild One for the second time. We'd been through a rough patch ourselves--a young married couple in our early 20s with an infant, tough financial times, some burnout issues with our previous church and a church plant, and some very rocky moments in our marriage. After a few months of detox, not attending regularly anywhere...we came (back) to Pastor Hugh's church, not because it was moving and shaking, but because it was mature and stable...a safe place to heal, which we desperately needed.

Pastor Hugh remembered my wife, and welcomed me gladly. We sat in his office and told a bit of our story. I remember actually appreciating that he was not desperate to get me involved in the music program, although I offered. (My musical talents were usually my ticket to the "inner circle" in churches, because they always needed players. My last church had even paid me to play.) The youth pastor needed some help, so he invited me to volunteer on the youth worship band assisting the youth pastor--and that was quite enough for me. He was warm and gracious, but not hungry to bring us aboard. I remembered feeling valued as a person after that meeting, not coveted as a pew-warmer. That was important to me.

A few months passed, and because he knew we needed the money, Pastor Hugh offered me some work doing odd jobs around the church on days off from my regular job. I mowed acres of lawn. I played janitor in the youth building. I spent a couple of weekends cleaning out a storage area of stuff that had accumulated over probably 20 years. And when I got done, Pastor Hugh would pay me cash for the hours I worked, often out of his own wallet. I think maybe he figured it would only last a few weeks, but I kept coming and asking if he had anything for me to do. So when there wasn't anything to do at the church...he'd have me come mow the yard at his home.

One day he told me to come to another house, his previous residence which I think he was fixing up to sell or something. When I got there, I found a bucket of white paint and a brush. Pastor Hugh asked me if I had any experience painting walls--he wanted the garage painted. I told him I had some experience--but left out the part where I didn't have good experience. (Paint and I have never gotten along; still don't.)

It was a job; I needed money. So I got started.

An hour or so into it, Pastor Hugh came out into the garage to check my gloppy, drippy-spot-here, missed-a-spot-there work. (Deep inside, I knew my work sucked; I just hoped he wouldn't notice.)

Apparently, he did notice. But never once did he complain about it. All he did was take a fresh brush, dip it into the paint, and show me how to paint the walls more evenly.

Then he stayed in the garage and painted with me until we were through. And still paid me full price for the hours I worked.

I don't really remember what he taught me about painting the walls. You still don't want me to paint your house. What I do remember is that Pastor Hugh didn't really need me to mow the grass, and he didn't really need me to help with the youth band. And he could have painted his own garage for free, and done a better job of it. (And probably he re-did it after I left.) But he made room for me in his church, and let me keep my dignity by earning my pay instead of just handing over some cash. He had no illusions about my brokenness, but neither was he put off by it. It would have been a lot more convenient for him to keep me warming the pew until I "got healed", but he willingly and patiently chose the inconvenient road. It sent a clear message to me for future ministry that people are more important than the jobs they do. It was a lesson I forgot in my early years of full-time ministry, but one that I eventually remembered, thanks to him.

We were only there a year before it was time to move on. And Pastor Hugh and I never had any deep, serious discussions, or counseling sessions. But his simple, quiet acts of kindness and grace have stayed with me all my life. More fathering took place painting those walls than any lecture he could have given me. I think what I needed most at that point of my life was to spend time being quietly accepted in the presence of a calm and wise man--a father in the faith. And that's exactly what being around Pastor Hugh gave me--the affirming sense that although I still had a lot of growing to do...I was okay. I don't think Pastor Hugh will ever know in this lifetime how deeply he impacted me.

The Two-Fold Image of God

2009-06-22T07:00:00.002-05:00

In my recent posts concerning releasing and restoring the woman, particularly in the church (which you can find by clicking the category "healing wounds" in the right-hand column of this blog)...I've pretty much stayed away from in-depth theological discussions about gender roles. I've done this firstly because theological arguments have been (over)done on both sides of the debate, and don't seem to make much headway. (People that deep into theology aren't usually looking to be convinced of another viewpoint.) Secondly--because I figured I wasn't going to sway complementarians to become egalitarians, I also figured most of the folks I was talking to already believed (at least somewhat) that women should have an equal footing among men in the church...so the focus ought to be on how we are being inconsistent in carrying out that belief. (This is what moved me to stand in support of Jonathan Brink when he raised some questions. )

Thus, I've kept my Bible references pretty general most of the time, simply admitting that we have based the suppression of women on the misinterpretation of Scripture, and focused more on dealing with the passivity and latent sexism that still floats around our minds--the practical application.

But today I'm chucking that approach, and talking theology. :) (Sorry, Jim.)

Actually, I guess a better way to put it is that I'm musing over the Scriptures and how we apply (and mis-apply) them on gender issues...and where the disconnect began with all this. And IMHO...I think it began at (or near) the beginning. So let's start there--Genesis 1:27:

"So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them."

This verse, written poetically, says to me that both male and female are created in the image of God. The Hebrew word for man (adam) is basically "human", and different Hebrew words are used for male and female. Point: male and female are both adam. "Man" is the species here, not the sex. Thus, both genders are created in God's image.

Now, I'm not going into the debate about God's gender here. Scripture makes it clear that God carries both male and female qualities (and since woman was taken from man, it can be assumed that Adam had both qualities initially). But since the Bible always uses male pronouns in reference to God (without God correcting it), I'm true to that without getting hung up about it. God is who He is (Ex. 3:14). The problem seems to lie in our understanding of humanity and gender in relation to God, so that's where my attention is; and it's important that we start with the baseline understanding that men and women are both reflections of God equally, because this is how the Bible describes us. Woman is not a "reflection of a reflection" because she was taken from Adam. Different, but equal--the same species, the same image of God. This is how we began.

The other thing I find intriguing is that the word "God" here in Genesis 1 is Elohim, which is God plural...which coincides with God saying, "Let Us make man in our image." I love how Timothy Keller discusses the Trinity in his book The Reason for God; he paints a word picture of a symbiotic triune collective Being in a circle of love, in constant motion, like a dance--each part confirming and making way for the other two in every way conceivable. How God can be Three and yet One always seems to boggle the human mind; but suffice it to say there isn't any evidence that Father, Son, and Spirit are a hierarchy. None outranks the others, but each lifts up the others. Each person of the Trinity is GOD--just as male and female are both MAN.

Now as to why God is Three-in-One, and would make adam into two-in-one--that's just too much math for me. :) But I think the foundational idea of the relationship is much the same. If we are created in the image of God, both male and female, then it stands to reason that the relationships between the two genders should reflect the mutual love relationship of the Trinity. In fact, one thing God seems to enjoy doing consistently through Scripture is to separate entities into parts, with the intent that they rejoin as one. This is the case with man and woman (specifically husbands and wives); and it is also the case with the Body of Christ (many members, many gifts--one body).

All this sums up to tell me that male and female, being both the image of God, were also created to carry the same sense of mutual equality that exists in Elohim. If we understand that this is how it was meant to be, then we will also understand that it is within God's redemptive plan to restore this relationship to what it was meant to be. God does not change; if this was in His heart from the beginning, it is in His heart now.

So how did we get so messed up? When we messed up. Genesis 3:16, spoken by God after Adam and Eve sinned:

"To the woman he said, 'I will greatly increase your pains in childbearing; with pain you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.'" (NIV, emphasis mine)

I think this verse gets gravely misinterpreted when it comes to gender issues in the church and the place of woman, because it gets interpreted as God's will for the woman to be under the man. But this was not how God created it to be; this was the consequence of their sin--part of the curse! I see the ruling thing not as a command for Adam to rule Eve, but a prediction of what was going to happen between man and woman. When sin entered, it broke the symbiotic relationship between male and female, causing a rift between the two parts of God's image, and one began to dominate the other. It interrupted the dance. And it has been a struggle for us ever since to find the beat again.

So if we understand that the woman's suppression by man is part of the curse of sin...where does this now fit in God's plan of redemption? Does the cross of Christ speak to this issue?

I believe it does, for this reason. The Bible makes it clear that God's purpose in redeeming us was not simply to give us a ticket to heaven when we die. It is His purpose to redeem all things to Himself--to eventually right every wrong brought upon us by the sin of man. Not just to forgive us our sins, but to redeem us from the curse of sin itself. And in my opinion, that includes the full restoration of the two-fold image of God, the restoration of how God initially intended it to be between men and women.

Jesus set a standard of respect for women that far exceeded the attitudes of His day; and the New Testament (despite misinterpretations of a few verses) actually upholds this standard. There is much evidence that women operated with authority and respect in the early church, right alongside their brothers. As I've mentioned in previous posts--the verses in the New Testament that we have historically used to affirm female subjection in the church, we have interpreted in the light of our own male-dominant culture over the centuries. But when you start from the beginning premise that God created both male and female in His image, that it was not His initial intent that one rule the other (but that both serve each other)...it causes you to see those verses in a different light, to re-evaluate the conclusions we have drawn about them.

And when we begin to recognize that the restoration of woman runs much deeper than the human efforts of the modern feminist movement--that the true restoration of woman is ultimately part of God's redemption for us all--we begin to approach things differently. For men of faith, it carries a holy conviction that as we have historically been perpetrators in the oppression of our female counterparts, we must now become partakers in the healing. And more and more men are getting the message. This is part of the restoration God desires, and it affects not only husbands and wives, but brothers and sisters, and indeed all relationships between the genders.

Because we are male and female, both the image of God...when we partake in this healing, we aren't just healing the wounds of the woman--we are healing ourselves. We are finding the beat again, as God brings us back into the divine dance that the Trinity has enjoyed all along. This is how it once was, and how it must be again...male and female functioning together on equal footing, with mutual admiration and respect, and in the love of Christ. A two-fold reflection of a Triune God.

A Cartoon I Made Up While Delivering Flowers, and Came Home and Drawed All By Myself

2009-06-20T22:13:00.005-05:00

Yeah, I know it's not nakedpastor...

I Do Not Think It Means What You Think It Means (or, Why I Split Hairs)

2009-06-20T08:40:00.002-05:00

So I've spent a couple of posts now rambling on about things like creativity, performance, and excellence. Don't know if you are bored with it yet, but it's entertaining me plenty. :) So...

I have to admit, as a creative type, musician-type person, I feel a little bit like a crybaby when I start defending things like performance and excellence in the setting of church. Like, "Hey, don't mess with my stuff!" But really, honestly, although some might think I'm splitting hairs over what words like these mean, there's a legitimate reason why I do it. You see, miscommunication mainly happens not over what people say, but over what people mean by what they say. And when certain words mean different things to different people, we can send the wrong message without even realizing it.

I know that a lot of the people I contact on this blog are in different places of re-thinking church as usual, and come from a variety of backgrounds and a diversity of beliefs. But at heart, it seems like most of us have two basic shared desires in common:

We want our expression of faith to be authentic (real, approachable, believable); and
We want our expression of faith to be inclusive (reflecting Christ's love to all people without condition and without regard to the state of their soul).

These two priorities fly in the face of most of what we see in the institutional church, especially in the evangelical/charismatic branches of it. Too often, our super-polished services and cliche-filled rhetoric seem anything but authentic; and our celebrity-status platform personas (not to mention our unspoken rules of protocol) seem anything but inclusive. So I completely understand and agree that we must take tangible steps to distance ourselves from that scene. We want to welcome people into active participation in our gatherings (whatever form that takes), and we want to let people know it's okay if their contribution is unpolished or messy, because it's okay that we are messy Christians. If we want to be authentic and inclusive, it's absolutely necessary to free people from the unfair expectations of polished professionalism and super-Christian spirituality.

But here's the problem. Because we are a task-oriented, performance-oriented culture that wrongly measures one's value by one's ability--we tend to use words like "performance" and "excellence" as comparison words that measure how "good" a person is at doing something. "Performance" and "peformer" become words that negatively represent the phony, slick, polished churchy image; and the word "excellence" comes to mean perfect and flawless (which is unattainable to nearly all mankind, and therefore exclusive).

In other words--performance becomes the antithesis of authentic, and excellence becomes the antithesis of inclusive. Meanings unintended for either word.

In the words of the great Inigo Montoya of The Princess Bride: "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means." :)

Now, to clarify, I understand why people use these words this way--they are viewed as comparison words, words that measure people by their abilities, words that make us feel like we mustn't goof up...words that (when misunderstood) intimidate the heck out of the very people we're trying to include. I also understand that when people say we should do away with "performance" in the church and not demand "excellence" of people, what they generally mean is that we need to be authentic and inclusive! And...I agree with what they mean! In that sense...we're basically saying the same thing.

So what's the big deal? Why split hairs over this?

Because one of our goals is to be inclusive...and that includes people in the creative community. And that includes people who want to be creative as more than a hobby...who want to excel at their art. When words like performance and excellence come to mean things that should be avoided--even in the name of being inclusive of everyone without regard to skills or staus--we run the risk of alienating some people while trying to include others.

Let me make it just a little more personal. When performance and excellence become negatives...I feel like the one excluded. I become the one marginalized. I, and many other creative people like me who constantly seek excellence in the things we perform. These things are part of who we are, part of our underlying passion. When these words come to mean something else, something comparative, something negative...it sends the unintended message that we might have to deny part of ourselves--to become, well...inauthentic, in order to be included. I hope that makes sense.

By affirming and defending the concepts of performance and excellence, I'm not suggesting we keep church as usual. (What has the last year and a half of writing this blog been about again?) I'm not suggesting that ministry and music should continue to be the exclusive territory of the best performers. I don't believe that at all. If it seems that way to you, it is because you are still thinking of these words as comparison words. And I do not think they mean what you think they mean.

So what do these words mean? Or at least, what do I think they mean? :)

To perform means "to excecute or do something." That's basically it. (In this, I am right there with dictionary.com in my definition. We all perform.)
Excellence means "virtue or pre-eminince; to excel." (In this, the dictionary actually does imply comparison; but from a Biblical standpoint, it speaks of that virtue of spirit that brings forth the best of itself--like Daniel's "excellent spirit.")

Taken together--to perform something with excellence simply means to do your best, and do it with all your heart. No comparisons with others; only yourself. How does this exclude anyone? Shouldn't we all be this way?

And when we approach our tasks this way...is this not just about as authentic as we could be?

So if my hair-splitting troubles you, I hope you'll extend me some grace. And regardless of what these words actually mean, or should mean...I understand that so many people perceive them as intimidating. So if you want to shy away from using words like these to keep from intimidating people, I understand. But at the very least, please don't use "performance" and "excellence" as words with negative meanings. For at heart, these words really aren't in opposition to an authentic faith, or an inclusive one.

And neither are the creative people who hold these values so dear.

Line By Line...This Pretty Much Says It All

2009-06-18T20:41:00.004-05:00

Makes you realize just how simple the gospel is, doesn't it?

(Source: Witnesswell.com)

P.S. This isn't necessarily an endorsement of bumper-sticker evangelism or witnessing formulas...I just think it's a cool graphic. :)

Excellence, the Widow's Mite, and the First Church of the Mediocre

2009-06-16T17:50:00.004-05:00

My previous post, which was initially inspired by some interaction on Communitas Collective, has deepened my stream of thought on some things. So I'm going to launch out and paddle my rowboat (read: blog) into the current, and let it ride, to see where this stream goes.

(Translation for anyone who might be totally lost by my elaborate and over-dramatic use of metaphor above: I want to jump off the previous discussion about performance, showiness and authenticity, and do a few posts exploring the idea of creativity in the church.)

The first stop along this stream comes courtesy of Erin, whose comment on the last post mentioned a worship-leading couple who left their church because of the excessive "demands for excellence." Toss the anchor, mateys (oh, wait, this is just a rowboat)...but anyway, let's stop here and talk about excellence for a bit. Specifically, the demand for excellence in the church, and its implications.

I've talked about the concept of excellence quite a bit in sharing with different worship teams and church musicians over the years, because it's a concept I think is largely misunderstood. In recent years, in the attempts of many institutional churches to be more relevant, respected, or culturally accepted, a lot of emphasis has been placed on the need for "excellence." Only the most skilled musicians are allowed to play on the team; only the most dynamic speakers get to talk into a microphone; often every element of the service is planned down to the minute, like a television show, so the meeting is executed flawlessly; and of course, everyone needs to be happy. Spit-and-polish. (I know a guy who runs the PowerPoint program at his church who is required to attend the worship team rehearsal, to make sure he synchronizes the song lyric projections as they run through the worship set.) And in the interest of disclosure--for many years I was right in the middle of this way of thinking.

This show-must-go-on mentality has (understandably) provoked a negative reaction from those whose hunger is driving them toward more authentic expressions of faith. These people realize that so much of what is projected from church platforms is neither real nor accessible, and that the true church (i.e., believers) should be participants in the gatherings, not spectators watching a bigger-than-life production. And I really get this--especially as in recent years God has reshaped my view of "church", and moved me into a more relaxed, organic expression. I really like open participation in church gatherings, and I believe it most parallels what the early church looked like. It is good and right for people to be welcomed and encouraged to engage one another, and their Lord, regardless of how "good" they are at doing a certain thing. And although, as I mentioned in the last post, anything we do is technically a "performance"--that doesn't mean church itself should be a performance, or that we are performing for one another. In other words...church is community. Church is not a show.

I get all that. Buuuuuttt....

...as some regular readers might have already figured out, I'm one of those people who wants to be careful to toss only the bathwater, and keep the babies. And I think we take it too far when we start downplaying excellence, acting like it's a negative thing. I know why we do that--we want to draw in the people who are self-conscious and intimidated by all the church shows they've seen. But I think when we extend that to mean excellence is not something to be desired or expected, that swings the pendulum too far the other direction, and a baby gets lost. And here's why...

"Excellence" does not mean "perfection."

The definition I use for "excellence" is doing the best you can with whatever you have. It has nothing to do with skill level. Excellence doesn't mean being the best; it means giving your best. Excellence doesn't compare one person's performance to another; excellence compares our own performance with our own potential.

And unless I'm reading this Book totally wrong...it seems to me the Bible is replete with admonitions to give God our very best at all times. A couple of times it is worded this way: "Whatever you do, do it with all your heart." That is excellence. And that should never be discarded, either in a public gathering, or in our personal life.

How does this look in real life? As an example...if a man who is prone to stuttering stands up and reads a prayer in a church gathering, and mumbles and stutters through the whole thing with great difficulty, but does so with all his heart because He loves Jesus...I believe that is excellence in the eyes of God. (In fact, I think He would find that absolutely beautiful.) But let's say a professionally trained musician gets up and plays a worship chorus, and does it half-asleep with no energy or sense of meaning, forgets the words because he just didn't care too much about learning them, and is obviously flying by the seat of his pants and bored with the whole thing. Even if that guy's half-hearted performance was more skillful than anyone else in the room could have done, that is NOT excellence. That is mediocrity, because he was capable of much more, but he brought to God that which cost him nothing.

For that matter, when it comes to talents and abilities, raw talent alone does not equal excellence. Excellence is what compels a person to take that raw talent and work and shape it to be all it can be. I have personally known musical geniuses at the level of Mozart or Bach who doomed themselves to mediocrity simply because they didn't regard their own gifts enough to cultivate them.

So when the worship-leading couple Erin mentioned left the church because of the "demands for excellence"--and realizing I don't know them and can't say for sure--I would venture a guess that what they were really leaving behind was the church's demand for perfection.

Because excellence in God's eyes really isn't about polished performances. Just like authenticity--excellence is more a matter of the heart. I think specifically of Daniel, whom the Bible says possessed an "excellent spirit." I believe it's that kind of excellence that God honors and memorializes. It isn't the excellence of the rich man who gives an offering equivalent to a year's pay for most of us; it's the excellence of the widow's mite.

So in our continuing quest for authenticity in our faith, I think it's important to remember this. It is right to question the modern church's current fixation on polished productions and professionalism. It is not right to allow this to become an abdication of excellence or an invitation to mediocrity. We aren't called to be the First Church of the Best Show In Town; but neither are we called to be the First Church of the Mediocre of Heart.

It's important for us to remember what excellence really is, and where it resides. May we continue to challenge ourselves, and one another, to be free--but not driven--to offer God "widow's mite" excellence, the very best of ourselves at all times. No matter what form our gatherings may take, now or in the future--may we always pursue the excellence of spirit.

Rockstars, Church, Performers and Authenticity

2009-06-15T08:08:00.001-05:00

I was meaning to bring this up on its own, but since it works as a point of introduction for this post...I have been asked to be a regular contributor to the site I told you about the other day, Communitas Collective. I will be posting every other week to the "Survivor" blog, the "recovering church leaders" part of the site. My first post is already in the cue for Friday, although by coming into the mix at the last minute, I don't feel like I'm quite in sync yet with the cool blogger vibe over there (be patient, guys, I'll find the beat!). But anywhoo...I count it a great privilege to be participating with CC, and look forward to what is happening over there.

But what prompted this post is a little snippet from a little reply to a little comment I made on Cory's first post in the "Survivor" section. He was talking about the RockStar persona of pastors, the bigger-than-life image and the performance mentality so many pastors feel compelled to maintain. (An excellent post, btw.) I joked in the comments about how I still want to be a RockStar not in ministry, but in the original, musical sense of the word. (I might elaborate some other time about my midlife fantasies of Rockstar fame and glory. Or not...)

Cory replied to the comment (and here comes the snippet):

"For church leaders, is it possible to be a performer and be authentic?"

To clarify at the outset...this is not a rebuttal to Cory's post, because I agreed with his points completely. But this one question sort of stepped out and rattled my cage, and launched my thoughts in a slightly different direction. (And I'll be discussing this mainly from the perspective of music and the arts.)

I want to shorten the question to: "Is it possible to be a performer and be authentic?" Because while I totally get what Cory was talking about (eliminating the fake Super-Christian persona)...I think the question should apply to everyone, not just church leaders.

So...is it possible to be a performer and be authentic?

You might be surprised at my answer....

Yes.

Despite the fact that I am about as "done" with church-as-usual as anyone else who is out of the box, and despite the fact that there is definitely too much "show" going on in our churches, it is still possible to make generalizations which inevitably marginalize some people. In this case, I have to admit that sometimes I feel like the one marginalized when someone generalizes words like "performance" or "excellence" with a negative connotation. I feel a tinge of pain. Why?

Because as a creative type, especially as a musician in the performing arts...performance is a normal part of my world. Part of the creative flow is to try and do what we do with excellence (meaning simply, doing our best). Good art is art that is performed well, whether it be music, or filmmaking, or painting, or whatever. To take that away from an artistic/creative person is to ask them to be less than who they are.

I realize that some of the disconnect is in the connotation surrounding the word "performance." We understand that the "performance mentality" of many Christians (i.e., trying to earn the favor of God by doing well) is not a good thing. We understand the pitfalls of allowing "performance" on the platform to draw attention to ourselves rather than to God. And not to detract from Cory in the least, I fully understand what he's talking about when he speaks of the "performance" of RockStar Pastors--meaning the bigger-than-life image that is projected--because that is inauthentic, and is not befitting to the role of a pastor. If this is the kind of performance we're talking about....then yes, it's negative.

But there are many (not necessarily Cory) who jump on the word "performance" in general and turn it into a negative thing, period, when it comes to church. To them, any "performance" draws attention away from Jesus and turns it on the person "performing", with the additional implication (as with the RockStar Pastor) that anyone who performs is being inauthentic. These well-meaning folks might acknowledge that such performances might have a place outside the church, but within the church gathering, it is considered inappropriate.

But let's unpack this just a little bit. Is this what "performance" really is?

Let me ask a question. Have you ever stood up in a church gathering and done something publicly, anything publicly? Said a prayer, sang a song, read a Scripture text, passed the offering plate? If so...you were performing. Tsk tsk. :)

Do you see my point? In order NOT to perform at all, we must do nothing. Anything we do, especially in a public setting, by definition, is a performance of some sort.

Now let me ask you this. When you prayed that public prayer, did you mean what you prayed? When you sang that song, did you sing it from the heart? When you read that Scripture, did you find meaning in it, not just in the words, but in the act of reading it? When you took the offering, were you trying to be a servant?

If so...guess what? You were still performing. But your performance was authentic. It came from who you are, as an honest heart response to God. By the same token, when a musician plays, when a worship leader leads, when a dancer dances in the meeting...they, too, are performing. But that fact has no bearing on whether or not they are being authentic. That is a matter of the heart, not of the deed.

Certainly we face the pitfalls of pride and self-absorption, and certainly motives can be mixed. But it should not be assumed that such things exist in every performance.

And that is my point. We should not see performance and authenticity as polar opposites by default. It should not be either/or. It should be both.

I realize this might sound like splitting hairs to some...but maybe sharing a little bit of personal experience will explain why I think this is important.

I've been leading worship or playing worship music in churches for most of my life. Early on in my church experience, the message was made clear to me: do not bring attention to yourself, only to God. This is not a performance. And you know something? I got so paranoid over whether I was drawing attention to myself that my own worship suffered. I could not worship as I played. Every time I started to enjoy the music I was making, I felt guilty, because I thought I was focusing on the music rather than God. Every time I played a challenging riff, I felt the need to repent. I felt like "dumbing it down" was the only way I could keep from sinning in my heart--and doing that just made the whole thing incredibly boring and lifeless. With that kind of setup, it's no wonder the vast majority of creative types who are raised in church end up leaving--and leaving their faith along with it. If I'd remained in that mindset, I think I'd probably have done the same thing eventually.

But somewhere along the way, I relaxed. I somehow realized that it was not a sin to enjoy the music I was privileged to partake in, and that it was not a sin to make it sound the best it could be. Even without the vocabulary I have now...deep inside I somehow knew that "letting it out" was part of my worship, that it brought God pleasure when I did. When I stopped worrying about whether I was in pride, or whether I was trying to draw attention to myself, I was free to turn all my energy and musicality and creativity toward God.

And yes, it was performance. AND it was authentic.

Because I believe this and experience this, I can't help but get a bit annoyed when I hear some pastor or church leader talk about things like "performance versus anointing" when it comes to the worship music. Whoever made the rule that a good musical performance couldn't be anointed, or couldn't bring people into worship? Whenever I hear this kind of thing said, I wince; because I know that leader is literally crippling the creativity in the church, and eventually, the creative people in that church will get tired of the ball and chain and go elsewhere. I don't think it should have to be that way. But for creative people, good performance is part of their worship. If we don't afford them that outlet, if we stifle them, eventually they will have to leave to preserve their own soul.

Does this mean worship leaders should be RockStars? Nope--not if you mean prideful, self-indulgent and narcissistic, of course not. But is it okay for them to perform their art with excellence, as an act of worship, without being pre-judged as prideful for doing so? I believe so.

Is it possible to be a performer and be authentic?

Absolutely.

(There is more to say about this...stay tuned.)

(Photo above: Air guitarist Ryan "Stryker" Strecker--AP Photo)