The Creating Space: the Essentials seminar will be this Saturday, April 28th, 2012 from 9am-3:30pm.  The seminar will be led by Eric Haskins, and will be held at Immanuel Lutheran Church, 5200 Carpenter Street, Downers Grove, IL 60515 in the library.

Take the next step: Create Space.

This extremely practical learning experience will address the topic of how to “create space” in our everyday lives for Jesus and his mission.  The key example we will seek to learn from will be Jesus himself.  If you’re ready to take the next step in your faith-journey, this Saturday’s experience could be a great catalyst for you.  Whether you’re feeling excited or frustrated about your faith, Creating Space promises to be an encouraging time of engagement with Jesus and his message of hope and redemption.

Please register online at the Creating Space: the Essentials page.  There is a $10 charge for the seminar to cover the cost of a box lunch from Jimmy John’s.  You will have the option to choose your sub sandwich from the registration form.  Cash or check should be brought with you the day of the seminar.  Coffee, water, and snacks will be provided.  If you would like a different beverage, you’re welcome to bring it with you.

Preschool Workers Needed

We are looking to hire 2 individuals per week as caretakers for our preschool children on Sunday mornings.  If you or someone you know is interested, please visit our Contact page to send us a message, or call 630.395.7918.  We are offering $25/week for approximately 1.5 hours of childcare, from 9:15am-10:45am.  Applicants will need to complete a short interview, as well as a criminal background check.

Please use the Contact page for any questions.

To keep things simple, we’re inviting everyone to bring or pick up their own lunches on the way.  There are many restaurants near the warehouse as you’ll see on the Google maps link above.  The simplest way to get there is to take I-355 south to 159th Street, then head east on 159th.  Turn right onto 104th Ave., then another right onto 163rd Pl.  Many restaurants are located on 159th St. just east of the warehouse where 159th crosses La Grange Road.

If you have any questions, please contact us or give us a call at 630.395.7918.

Hope to see you there!

I know that there’s a meaning to it all
A little resurrection every time I fall

A few friends recently suggested I try out Switchfoot’s new album called Vice Verses.  These are a few of the lyrics from the title track and they’re what I want to draw your attention to this Easter weekend.

The song overall is a protest of sorts, filled with frustration over the way things are and longing for something new.  The hope that there is meaning  and resurrection in this life is the message of Easter.  Jesus’ resurrection means that life does not end with death and that crucifixion leads to new beginnings.

Most of the time life is a mixed bag of crucifixion experiences, resurrection experiences, and mundane stuff in between.  Other times we might feel that we’re experiencing nothing but crucifixion.  And sometimes, we experience full-blown resurrection.

In January I felt crucified.  I had horrible pain in my legs and back that seemed to be symptoms of a neurological disorder.  I was bedridden some days and was spending a lot of time thinking about how the “new normal” of my life would look.  It was a time filled in my mind with loss.

By February there was hope that my experience was the result of a reaction to medication I was taking, rather than neurological.  By March I was able to run again.  That’s a resurrection experience I’ll never forget.

For some of us it’s not a reaction to medication.  The crucifixion is real and lasting.  As another Switchfoot lyric says:

This skin and bones is a rental
And no one makes it out alive

By Hartmann Schedel (public domain), via Wikimedia Commons; the Phoenix is my favorite symbol of resurrection.

One day it all ends, and whether we were kings, queens, or pawns won’t make much of a difference.  And if there’s no such thing as resurrection – real and lasting resurrection that goes beyond death – then it seems to me we’re genuinely spending our time rearranging chairs on a sinking ship/dying planet.

This is why Jesus’ resurrection is so central to me and to his mission for the world.  He offers life beyond death.  He offers the hope that just as he died to live again, so can we.  And if death is no more, then all the trappings of death will be gone as well.  Some say death is a part of life.  Jesus seems to attack that idea head on.

Sometimes the Church makes more of Good Friday than Easter Sunday.  I think that must be backwards.  Easter is what makes Good Friday have any meaning at all, since without Easter, Good Friday was just Execution Day for another Jewish peasant.

But with Easter, there’s “a little resurrection every time we fall.”  The ultimate hope of new life flows out of Jesus’ mission to transform the world that is into the world that ought to be.  He remains at work to bring resurrection to all of life, lifting us from the ashes time and time again.  And when the time comes to say goodbye, he declares it is only for a little while.  For Jesus, resurrection – not crucifixion – is the new normal.

Bodies need resurrection.  Friendships need resurrection.  Marriages need resurrection.  Families need resurrection.  Communities need resurrection.  Nations need resurrection.  Planets need resurrection.  Life needs resurrection.

May we be people who join Jesus in his mission to bring resurrection to this world.

Need a new vision for bringing Jesus into the everyday moments of life?

The seminar will be held on Saturday, April 28th, 2012 from 9am-3:30pm at Immanuel Lutheran Church in their library.  The church is located 5200 Carpenter Street, Downers Grove, IL 60515.  There is a $10 charge for the seminar to cover the cost of a box lunch from Jimmy John’s.  You will have the option to choose your sub sandwich from the registration form.  Cash or check should be brought with you the day of the seminar.  Coffee and water will be provided.  If you would like a different beverage, you’re welcome to bring it with you.

Creating Space: the Essentials will be led by Redeemer’s pastor, Eric Haskins.  To register, use the form below.

Also, don’t forget about our upcoming gathering on Sunday, April 15th after worship at the Gombis’ family warehouse in Orland Park.  This will be an excellent opportunity to have conversations that go beyond the brief hello’s we can offer on Sunday mornings.  The warehouse is located at the corner of 104th Ave. and 163rd Pl.  Click this link to get driving directions from Google maps. The warehouse you’re looking for is shared with the Scuba Emporium (sorry – scuba is not included).  The warehouse has a kitchen and plenty of tables and chairs for lunch, as well as air hockey, ping pong, foosball, basketball, a play area for toddlers, puzzles, games, etc. If you would like to help host the meal, please use the Contact form to let us know. At this point we’re thinking some kind of carry-out, perhaps Italian.

Need a new vision for bringing Jesus into the everyday moments of life?

One more note for your calendars.  On Saturday, April 28th, Eric will be leading a seminar on how we can “create space” in our everyday lives for our faith to grow. The ancient term for this is spiritual disciplines, and there is often a lot of confusion over how this whole process works. If you’re ready to slow down and discover how Jesus himself created space in his own life, then this will be a great fit for you. The seminar will be from 9am-3:30pm and will be held down the street from Emmett’s at Immanuel Lutheran Church. More details and the opportunity to register will be coming out early next week.

Don’t forget – 9:00am this Sunday only!

That got me thinking about the whole topic of authenticity. Most of us have an innate desire to present the best version of ourselves to the world. There’s definitely a good side to that – if we never restrained our dark sides, the world would be a very dark place. At the same time, I think we can take the need to hide too far.

Lent is a great season for wrestling with this topic, since Lent is all about Jesus’ death for the world. Jesus’ dying for us reveals two claims: 1) our darkness ultimately leads to death, and 2) that God loves us and takes the consequences for us.

I want to dig into the first claim for a minute: the suburban life most of us live is a lot like going to Sturgis on rentals. We cover up our pain and our failures with our money or our status-symbols. We tend to hide behind smiles and surface-y conversations rather than allowing honesty to rule. The problem is that such tendencies are a covering-up – even destructive – of who we really are.

This is where the second claim comes in: that God loves us and takes our death for us, in the end offering us resurrection – new life altogether. The Christian identity is a tension between being broken and being healed. To highlight one and diminish the other is to miss the whole point. Lent is good for us who live a plastic-y existence because it reminds us that we are not only free to be broken with Jesus, but we’re also free to be healed. It is this healing that makes us whole, radiates out our hypocrisies, and launches out as healers ourselves in the world.

May Lent remind you of your need for healing. May it also remind you of Jesus’ offer to do just that. And may it inspire you to be more honest both with yourself and with others.

Maybe someday I’ll actually own my own Harley, but until then, I’m going to try not to pretend…

We’re excited to announce the addition of two more pastors at Redeemer Church: Eric Haskins and George Polcaster! One of our core values at Redeemer is “Simple Love,” which means we are trying to maintain our focus on Jesus’ mission with as little distraction as possible. One result of this focus on simplicity is that we are able to have pastors leading on a part-time basis, which will be the case for both Eric and George. By way of (a brief) introduction…

Eric has been pastoring in various capacities for 20 years. Early on he worked primarily with junior high and high school students. More recently he was the lead pastor of a church in LaCrosse, Wisconsin. His passions today are focused on smaller group settings (such as our Life Groups), bringing creativity to worship gatherings, and teaching occassionally on specific topics, such as last month’s Five Love Languages seminar. He brings creativity and enthusiasm to Redeemer’s leadership team and will be playing a role in planning our worship gatherings on Sundays, putting together seminars and retreats every 2-3 months, and being a resource for new and creative ideas in our Life Groups.

George too has been a pastor for many years, working first at Evanston Vineyard Church, then later starting and leading the Downers Grove Vineyard church. His passions today are focused on connecting the church with the needs of the larger community. He brings to our leadership team a relentless focus on the real and present needs of our world, and the role Jesus’ followers are called to play in transforming the world that is into the world that ought to be. His role will be preaching on Sunday mornings on a regular basis alongside Jonathan and our other speakers, as well as actively seeking to connect us as a church community with opportunities to serve and care for the needs of the world around us.

We’re excited and grateful that both Eric’s and George’s journeys have brought them and their families to Redeemer for the present time. We’re looking forward to watching the next legs of their journeys unfold as we continue to pursue Jesus together, and with him seek to transform the world that is into the world that ought to be.

Save the dates!

We have a couple of upcoming dates that we want to encourage you to set aside on your calendars. The first is Sunday, April 15th. On that day we are planning a gathering at a large family-friendly warehouse following our Sunday morning worship. This will be a time for us to connect and get to know each other a bit more than has been possible in our limited time on Sunday mornings. We’re planning to share lunch together and will be providing more details in the coming weeks.

The second date to set aside is Saturday, April 28th. Eric will be leading a seminar that day on how we can practically follow Jesus while living the suburban life. The ancient Church term for this concept is “spiritual disciplines,” and it has been a passion of Eric’s for many years to try to integrate our faith-walk into the everyday routines of life. This will be an all-day event and more details, along with the opportunity to register will be available in the coming weeks.

Thank you for your interest in the Five Love Languages Seminar!

The seminar will be held on Monday, February 6, 2012 from 7-9pm at Emmett’s Ale House (5200 Main St., Downers Grove, IL 60515) in the banquet room.

There is no charge for this event. However, you will be invited to purchase drinks, appetizers, desserts, etc., from Emmett’s to enjoy during the presentation.

If you would like us to provide you with a copy of “The Five Love Languages” by Dr. Gary Chapman, please bring $10 cash or a check payable to Redeemer Church to the seminar.

Other questions?  Not sure if you’re ready to register yet?
Use our general contact page to email us!

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Now, on to some thoughts about Christmas.  I realize there are a thousand different ideas out there as to what Christmas means, so you won’t hurt my feelings if you decide to stop reading right now and chalk this up as just another “Here’s the true meaning of Christmas” op-ed.  On the other hand, I would love the opportunity to share some food for thought this weekend.

I believe that more than anything else, Christmas is best understood as a claim.  It’s the claim that the God of the universe entered into the world as a human being.  It’s a fantastic claim, and yet certainly one to be taken seriously due to the impact it has had on the human race these past 2,000 years.

The Story of Christmas is a story of hope.  But hope as the Bible describes it is easily misunderstood in our culture.  We speak of hope in terms of wish-fulfillment.  Hope represents the great Maybe in our minds.  We hope it won’t rain, that our kids will be healthy, and that our favorite teams will win.  The Bible’s concept is strikingly different.

For the early Christians, their claims of hope were claims not only about the future, but about the past.  They had hope for a better world and a better life based on something beyond their own wishes and desires.  For them, hope for the future was anchored in the events of the past.  This hope gave them strength and power to endure tremendous hardship and suffering throughout those earliest years of Christian history.

I know I’ve shared this story before, but it is one I always think of at Christmastime, and it is a brilliant analogy of the Christian claim of hope.  As a child, my brother David and I would be allowed to open our stocking gifts on Christmas Eve.  We would rush home from the Christmas Eve service at our church, sit by our family’s fireplace, and one by one unwrap candy, chewing gum, Chapstick, and baseball cards.

But the most exciting moment would come when we finally reached down into the toes of our stockings to find something heavy and solid.  We would pull out this last stocking gift, knowing what it was even before we began to unwrap it.  Slowly, we would peel away the paper to reveal the copper tops of 4, 6, or even 8 D-cell batteries.

The batteries were a promise that the next morning there would certainly be a new toy under the tree, which would need those batteries.  We would go to bed with hope – not wish-fulfillment, but confidence, knowing that we weren’t being given batteries for the family flashlight, but for a brand new super-cool toy.  And sure enough, the next morning, hope would be fulfilled.

Christmas is the batteries.  It is the beginning of the Hope Story.  It is the claim that God has not abandoned us to our own devices, but he has come into our world to rescue us.  Christmas means that this world and this life matter to God.  He is not an all-powerful, yet distant deity, but a helpless infant who will sacrifice everything to become one of us.  He has experienced what we experience, and he has promised to right the wrongs and bring the redemption we are longing for.

May this Hope fill your mind, your heart, and your relationships this weekend.

Merry Christmas!

We’ll have the full list of needs at our worship gathering tomorrow morning, so if you’re interested, please take a few minutes to stop by the Exodus Refugee display for more info and to sign up to bring some of these much-needed items.

Thanks!
JT

Earlier this summer I had gotten a stress fracture in the same foot which had kept me on the couch for a solid 8 weeks. It looks like I’m in for more of the same this fall.

Half-full or half-empty?

Mentally, this has been a “process” for me. Not being able to do something I want to is very un-American and frustrating. At the same time, I fully realize that a stress fracture in my foot lasting a couple of months is pretty insignificant. It’s a tiny slice of my overall life, and it’s ridiculous even to begin to compare it to the disappointments others are experiencing all around me.

So my question today is why am I disappointed in the first place? Disappointment is a curious thing to stop and think about.

Before we can be disappointed we have to believe there’s something better out there that we’re missing. It takes imagination to be disappointed. We imagine our life experiences being filled with love, joy, peace and health. When life deals us a different hand, disappointment sets in.

The Story of the Bible explains and affirms our disappointment. We imagine and dream of the world God says we were made for. As C. S. Lewis says, it is “the music we are born remembering.”

Things fall apart because all is not as it ought to be. As much as we want to believe and expect an Ideal, experience delivers the Real. And when Reality bites, we have a choice to make.

We can choose to blame the source of our disappointment. For example, last night I spent about an hour being extremely angry with some random homeowner who didnt have the decency to fill in the trench by his curb so that people running through his yard in the dark with recently healed stress-fractures wouldn’t re-break their feet.

We can also choose to be cynical, abandoning our ideal dreams and imagining a life of pain and loss, thinking that might somehow shield us from disappointment altogether, though as a fairly sarcastic cynic, I have to admit it often does not.

There is another option.  We can choose to see our experiences in the context of God’s Story.  According to the claims of the Bible, we were made for the Ideal, but since the ideal is based on love, we were also granted the freedom of choice.  The brokenness and fallout we experience are the result of our disconnect with the God who made us and the spiritual life and energy we were designed for – and only he can provide.

Our longing for the Ideal is not “pie in the sky” naiveté.  Nor is it some sort of survival mechanism that compels us to move forward in the face of adversity.  It is the memory imprinted on our souls of what we were made for, and what we have lost.  Disappointment, according to the God of the Bible, is legit.

To me, it is helpful to hear that while disappointment is real, the Story has not ended, whether my episodes with a broken foot, our family members’ challenges of breast cancer, Lyme’s disease, fibromyalgia, and neurofibromatosis (it’s been a tough couple of years), or the abject poverty faced by millions around the world.

The hope Jesus offers is that the new life seen in his own resurrection from death can ultimately redeem the whole world.  Our craving for redemption is why disappointment exists, it’s why Christians have prayed for 2,000 years, “Thy Kingdom come,” and it’s why Jesus invites us to become his “hands and feet” as we relentlessly transform the world that is into the world that ought to be.

Sunday/Monday September 18th/19th Community United Methodist Church Naperville
Overnight shifts 2a – 530a and 5a – 8a Breakfast and Clean up.
*Looking for permanent volunteers for this and other positions at Community United Methodist Church, please see below.

Thursday September 22nd/23rd St Margaret Mary Naperville
Overnight shifts 2a – 6a

PERMANENT SHIFTS: (These shifts run from October 2011 – May 2012)
St. Margaret Mary Naperville Every 2nd Thursday of the month Overnight shifts.
10p – 2am and 2a – 530am.
St Margaret Mary Naperville Every 4th Thursday of the month Overnight shifts.
2a – 6a only.

Community United Methodist Church Naperville. Every 3rd Sunday of the month.
8p – 10p, Overnight 10p – 2am and 2am – 530am, breakfast 530a – 8a.

**SPECIAL TRAINING FOR THESE POSITIONS IS MONDAY SEPTEMBER 19th AT COMMUNITY UNITED METHODIST CHURCH IN NAPERVILLE at 7p.

If you are interested in volunteering, or simply want to learn more, send an email to Anne O’Dell, the volunteer coordinator, at aodell[at]dupagepads.org.

The article appears on pages 6 & 7.

Last year we had the opportunity to provide basic household items to the Al Badra family, refugees from Iraq. Since that initial connection, some of our group have stayed in touch with the Al Badra’s, helping them navigate life in their new surroundings (and even helping one of them learn to drive!). As a church committed to Jesus’ mission to right the wrongs of this world, this is an extremely relevant and tangible way for us to express Jesus’ message in our community.

Two specific opportunities are available to you and your family during the month of September as we highlight Exodus. First, we will post a list on Sundays of the typical household supplies needed by a newly arrived refugee family. Often these families arrive after spending months or even years in camps, and carry all they own in one or two bags. Items we will collect range from dry foods to toiletries and linens. Please consider signing up to bring one or more of these items, and once we’ve collected the entire “Welcome to America Pack,” Exodus will connect us with a newly arriving family.

The second opportunity is a 5k run / walk fundraiser for Exodus taking place on Saturday, September 10th. The race will be at 8:30am in Long Grove, which is a hike for most of us, but well worth the trip! I will be there bright and early to help with registration, and I would love to have some of you join me. Whether you’re a runner, walker, or stroller-pusher, this is a great opportunity to get some exercise while supporting the mission of Exodus. Registration begins as early at 6:30am the morning of the race, or you can pre-register online: Exodus 5K Run / Walk for Refugees

Registration for walkers and runners is $35, while kids can participate for free. You also have the option to sponsor someone else who is participating or participate as a “virtual” walker or runner from home. If you do choose to register online, be sure to list “Redeemer Church of Downers Grove” as your Church/Organization, and select me as your team leader. If we are able as a group to raise $500 that will fully supply another Welcome to America Pack in addition to the items we collect on Sundays.

If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact us.

Looking forward to the next stage of our journey together!
JT

The process is hands-on and highly energetic as volunteers work together to package pre-determined amounts of bulk grains, dried vegetables, and vitamins. Kids 5 and older are welcome to participate, making this an opportunity for families to share. Space is limited to 15 volunteers, but spaces are still open for those who are interested. Sign up during our worship gatherings or by visiting our Contact page to send us an email or to ask any questions.

This video gives an introduction to Feed My Starving Children, the work they are doing, and the role we can play in this effort to transform the world that is into the world that ought to be.

Parking

There are ample parking spaces in the vicinity of Emmett’s. There is a parking lot directly behind (west) of Emmett’s with entrances off of Grove St. There is also street parking on both Main St. and Grove St.

Brunch Buffet

Emmett’s will be providing a brunch buffet beginning at 11am, which will also be open to the public. This is a great opportunity to linger after our worship gathering and share a meal together. If you have no other plans for late Sunday morning, please consider joining us!

Kids’ Stuff

We will be running our Journeyland program on Sunday, but we are going to be trying some different formats in the coming weeks to see what fits best in our new location. This Sunday, we anticipate having the kids join us in the worship gathering for our time of singing, after which they will return to the dining room area for their interactive learning time.

If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to send an email through our Contact page, or leave a message at 630.395.7918 and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.

All the best,
JT

If you or someone you know is willing to loan or donate any of these supplies, please visit our Contact page to send an email to Dominic Fallara, our transition point-person. Anything donated to Redeemer can be itemized as a tax deduction.

Here’s what we’re looking for (the links will show you examples):

• Pack ‘n Play or similar folding crib with diaper changer (bassinet not necessary)
• Folding rocking chairs
• Large floor-mat(s) able to be rolled up for storage, ideally around 10′ x 20′
• Interlocking square floor mats
• Large plastic storage tub filled with toddler-aged toys
• 12′ to 15′ of Superyard-type play fencing

Thanks in advance for any help you can provide!

There are a number of themes in this little book that resonate with me, but the one I’ve been thinking of lately is that of the search. Just like most of us, the little bird is born knowing it needs someone or something else to make its life complete. The irony of course is that the hatchling’s mother was there all along – her initial absence even was in service to her chick.

Mr. Eastman has put into a few short pages one of the central claims of Jesus: that we are all children of the God of the universe, that we are deeply loved and cared for, and that we often search for our identity and love from the wrong sources.

As the book makes clear, a cow can’t possibly care for and meet the needs of a baby bird, even if it desperately wanted to. And when the bird goes looking for protection from machines, such as a car, a boat, or an earth-mover, disappointment and even fear are the result.

The only one who can properly care for and nurture the baby bird is Mother.

We are all aware of a need within us for identity and love. It may take on different forms based on our different personalities, but the drive seems to me to be universal. Some of us look to our accomplishments, others to our beauty or strength, others to our power, and others to our relationships. Yet in every one of us there is the question, “What do I need?”

Jesus’ explanation of this question is that we were made – designed – to know and be known by, and to love and be loved by God himself. He is the only one who can satisfy the longing in our souls. This claim has been presented by Christians for centuries, and it is most likely familiar to you. And yet, I know from my own experience that even though I find this claim compelling, I still struggle at times to embrace it. There is a competition in my soul between accepting this claim and the transformation it offers, and a drive to find something else – anything else it seems – to live for instead.

By way of a simple and trite example: two weeks ago I was out for a run and apparently suffered a stress fracture in my left foot (I’m hoping to have it x-rayed next week). Six months ago I wasn’t running at all, but now that I’ve been forced not to, it’s become a real source of frustration. At most, I’m going to have to wait eight weeks for it to heal, though probably less than that. This is a short window of time in my life – an opportunity for all sorts of other activities, like how I taught my daughter to play checkers this week. Yet here I am longing for what I can’t have, believing somewhere down deep that if I could only go running, then I’d be happier and far more satisfied.

The truth is, I wouldn’t be happier. If I were running this afternoon instead of blogging, I’d have some other nagging frustration on my mind, tempting me to focus on it instead. Our souls are divided and we must always choose which side to feed.

Of course, many people have found satisfaction and equilibrium in their lives outside of Jesus. We know that the best way to live is summed up in the phrase, “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.” The question I want to raise today is not whether you can find Mother in a source other than Jesus. The question I want to raise is why are we always looking for something we don’t have in the first place?

Personally, I find Jesus’ answer and explanation to that question more compelling than than any other.

We started Redeemer because we find Jesus’ offer of transformation and redemption to be enormously compelling, and worthy of a closer look. We want to do all we can to create an environment that embraces conversation, questions, and community as part of our journey of faith. Ultimately, we want this conversation to be accessible and to involve as many people in our surrounding community as possible.

To that end we have decided to make a major change to our Sunday worship gatherings. Beginning August 7th, we will be meeting at 9:30am at Emmett’s Ale House at 5200 Main Street in Downers Grove. It is our hope that this transition will be a great fit for many people. With this move we are able to meet on Sunday mornings rather than afternoons, hopefully leading to less conflict with family activities (and NFL football games). Meeting at Emmett’s also means we will be in an easily identifiable and accessible location in the heart of our community of Downers Grove. We are looking forward as well to the communal and comfortable atmosphere Emmett’s provides, which we hope will contribute all the more to our ongoing conversation about Jesus and his claims.

We will continue to provide an exciting and highly engaging program for kids through 5th grade, which we call Journeyland. The kids will meet in Emmett’s dining room, while the adults meet in the pub. And while this whole arrangement may seem “out of the box,” we see in it a fantastic opportunity to cultivate a strong sense of family and community by meeting in one of our community’s iconic gathering places.

At Redeemer we truly value the conviction that we’re on a journey, which means we are writing a story together. Our transition to Emmett’s is the point at which we will begin writing Chapter Two. We’ve spent this past year asking questions, forming community, healing from the past, and refocusing on the deeper questions of life and faith. Now we are ready to introduce ourselves to our community of Downers Grove in what we hope will be a tangible and truly respectful way.

We intend to utilize the month of August to become acclimated to our new gathering place. We look forward to the adventure of continuing to re-imagine the format of an hour spent worshipping Jesus. By the beginning of September we expect to have ironed out any wrinkles and be fairly adjusted to our new surroundings. With this in mind, we are going to focus on Sunday, September 11th, 2011 as a date for us to “re-launch.”

For directions to Emmett’s please click on the links above, or visit our Where We Meet page. Please use our contact page if you have any questions.

I can’t tell you how excited I am to begin writing Chapter Two with you!

All the best,
JT

1. anything built or serving to bar passage, as a railing, fence, or the like: People may pass through the barrier only when their train is announced.
2. any natural bar or obstacle: a mountain barrier.
3. anything that restrains or obstructs progress, access, etc.: a trade barrier.
4. a limit or boundary of any kind: the barriers of caste.

Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. – Jesus of Nazareth

A strange thing has happened within the Christian movement: originally it was a small group of people attempting to tell the world about a man named Jesus. Today, in many places it has become a group of people preventing the world from hearing from Jesus. Almost none of this is intentional, but it has happened nonetheless.

Anyone today with questions about faith, spirituality, the supernatural, etc. has many options and paths to explore. However, very few people would ever consider the Church to be a place to process any of those questions. How could this be?

There are many reasons, but among them are such things as Christian jargon – a set of vocabulary words that are often used in church settings but rarely if at all heard anywhere else. Other reasons include outdated or uncomfortable “dress codes,” musical styles, and unstated social expectations (e.g. when someone asks how you are always in every instance answer, “Fine.”).

In and of themselves, the things that make Christian subculture unique are not “bad” or “wrong.” But they are without question, unique. And uniqueness is often a barrier, at least to someone attempting to enter a culture or subculture from the “outside.”

So does any of this really matter? Shouldn’t people be attracted to Jesus no matter what type of music is playing at a worship service? Shouldn’t his message shine through any weird reactions that might arise from seeing a group of people wearing horribly uncomfortable yet highly fashionable “dress clothes” at 9:00am on a weekend? Maybe. And maybe not.

The question I want to wrestle with today is what is the real purpose of the Church? That’s a huge question and there’s no way to fully answer it. But one thing I can say succinctly and without hesitation is that the Church is God’s plan for bringing redemption to the world. At times in history the Church has actually pulled this off, such as the nursing services they set up in Rome during the great plagues of the 2nd and 3rd centuries. Much of the time, the Church misses it.

If the Church is the way God wants to right the wrongs of the world, whether that be brokenness within us as individuals, or through communal, structural, environmental, or any other sphere of redemption, then that should impact everything we do. It would actually mean that the whole point of our existence is to do everything we can to get rid of any kind of foreign/confusing/weird/isolating/unique subculture, so that Jesus’ message of love, transformation, and redemption can be clearly heard and engaged with by as many people as possible.

This premise underlies Redeemer Church. There are no sacred cows here. The whole point of our existence is to create a community in which there are no barriers for engaging with Jesus. This is true no matter what level of engagement someone wants to have – whether they have a deep passion for Jesus and his message, or whether they’re completely skeptical and simply looking to sharpen their own ideas and criticisms of Christianity. Everyone is welcome, “regardless of race, creed, gender, or sexual orientation.” We want to tear down every possible barrier we can get our hands on that might somehow, someway prevent someone’s faith journey from heading toward Jesus. That’s our mission.

Barriers will always arise over time – it’s the nature of how subcultures form in the first place. So it is extremely important that we constantly be asking ourselves what might we be doing/saying/thinking/feeling that could actually be preventing someone from considering Jesus’ claims and message of redemption. It can be an exhausting process if it is resented, but if it is embraced it can mean that every opportunity to shift/alter/destroy another barrier is all part of a genuine adventure as we pursue our faith journeys together.

If you’ve been turned off by or are just plain unfamiliar with “traditional church,” and yet you have questions/concerns/doubts about Christianity, then perhaps Redeemer is a good fit for you. Let’s have the conversation.

In my previous post I set out my own personal convictions regarding Jesus’ resurrection. As I said, I find the claim of the earliest Christians to have witnessed a physically risen Jesus to be enormously compelling. Their claim is the center of the Christian faith, going above and beyond anyone’s inner spiritual experiences.

My attempt in that post was to answer the question, “What makes Christianity true?” I was attempting to show what grounds the earliest Christians gave for their faith – even as they began to be persecuted and even killed for it. For these earliest followers of Jesus, what made Christianity “true” was their eyewitness experience of Jesus of Nazareth’s resurrection.

In this post, I want to address the issue of whether or not Christianity, or any other religion for that matter, is merely a “crutch.” I’m attempting to do so by answering a related question: “What if the earliest Christians were mistaken about the resurrection?” Perhaps another way to put it is, “Were they so totally out of their minds that they had a group hallucination?” or something like that. To the modern mind, this actually might sound like a reasonable explanation.

After all, Jesus’ earliest followers made no effort to hide the fact that they were largely uneducated peasants, most of whom already believed intensely in a spiritual realm. Isn’t it fair to assume that some of them wanted to believe his death wasn’t the ultimate end of his life and legacy? Maybe they wanted to believe it so badly, that in their stressed-out state they somehow came to believe he was actually still alive?

The reason such an explanation makes sense to many of us is because often we are prejudiced against any type of spiritual explanation for the world’s events. This can be true whether or not we identify ourselves as “spiritual.” As a result, whenever we see or hear of someone claiming, “God did it” in regards to anything, most of us tend to be skeptical.

We assume such spiritual explanations are unnecessary crutches. They are holdovers from an earlier time in human history before we had science and technology and could explain stuff on our own.

There is a shift that has taken place over the past several hundred years in which religion and faith have transitioned from explanations to medications. Except perhaps in moments of deep distress, such as the unexpected death of a loved one, most of us do not think of religion as a source for explaining the world we live in. At best, religion is a way to medicate the challenges of life and perhaps obtain some measure of inner peace and/or a good afterlife.

I suggest that religion is absolutely a crutch, but so is our dependence on science and technology. I’ll define a “crutch” as something we turn to in order to help explain our world. It seems that as rational self-aware creatures, people have a basic need to understand why things are the way they are. Our attempts to provide those explanations are our crutches.

Just like earlier humans, modern Americans continue to use crutches to explain the world we live in. Having the desire to believe that we are the ultimate ends of our own existence, that the universe is ours to control and mechanize, or that our minds have the ability to understand virtually anything if given enough time, are all crutches.

We explain tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, and tsunamis in geological and atmospheric terms. Presently, that isn’t too helpful to the residents of Joplin, Missouri, but it’s what allows the rest of us to go on living our lives without descending into anarchy and sheer terror, fearing that “we’re next.” We’ve had it all explained to us by Tom Skilling: tornadoes happen when cold air moves on top of hot air and compresses it, and then a hole opens up in the cold air and a funnel cloud forms… that’s it. Sorry, Joplin. This is clearly the answer to “What causes a tornado to form?”

However, I hope you can see how such an answer becomes a crutch when it is also used to answer, “Why did a tornado hit that city?” It’s an explanation of the seemingly random events of our world: why this city and not that corn field? Why a 9+ earthquake this close to a nuclear reactor and not somewhere else? Why did Katrina make landfall here and not there? Why did this person get terminal cancer while that one was cured?

Walking down Main Street USA at Disney’s Magic Kingdom, observing the variety of the world’s faiths on display, I wondered about our different crutches. If one of my children were to die unexpectedly, how would I explain it as compared to the family passing me dressed in traditional Indian clothing? Or the family in which the mother was wearing a hijab, a traditional Muslim head-covering?

The earliest Christians absolutely turned to a crutch to describe their experiences. They were attempting to explain the unexplainable. Whether they were right in their explanation of Jesus’ resurrection or not is up to us to decide. However, before we dismiss their crutches, we need to be sure to admit our own.

Explaining the earliest Christians’ claims as a hallucination, for example, is a crutch. It is an attempt to explain an event and the subsequent actions of a group of people. Why did they die for their faith? Did they die for a lie? How would we know? Doesn’t it seem irrational and contrary to normal human experience to throw one’s life away (and watch others throw their lives away) for a hoax? Wouldn’t someone crack and admit the lie?

Tragedies such as that do happen, like in the cases of the followers of Jim Jones and David Koresh. Perhaps that’s also what happened with the earliest Christians. It is up to us to decide if their explanation is right or wrong, but it bears keeping in mind that their crutch led many of them to their death.

The crutch they leaned on wasn’t an easy or a safe way out of the difficulties of life. In fact, this “crutch” led many of them out of a safe and quiet life into one of fraught with persecution and even death. At its core, claiming Jesus physically rose from the dead was simply a way for them to explain the events they had experienced.

We all use crutches. The question is not whether we should or shouldn’t depend on them, but whether or not they can genuinely and adequately hold us up. Clearly some crutches are better than others. There is an enormous difference between several hundred people claiming to their death to have personally witnessed a physical resurrection and a group of satirical bloggers claiming to have been visited by an invisible pink unicorn. (More on that in a future post.)

Personally, my journey has led me to believe that the Christian crutch best explains the world I live in and the experiences that others and I have had.

What emerged quickly in our conversation was the differing grounds for our faiths. Knowing that the LDS has been experiencing tremendous numerical growth since its founding, I asked them to share with me what they found compelling about it. Their response was that they believed Mormonism to be true due to an inner sense of confirmation, which they attribute to God’s Spirit.

In order to support this inner-witness truth-claim, they invited me to read selected chapters of the Book of Mormon. In particular, they asked that I read chapter 32 of the Book of Alma.

It had been a few years since I last read anything from the Book of Mormon, and I enjoyed the opportunity to re-engage with it. Alma 32 is certainly a great passage to direct a spiritual seeker towards. The first half of the chapter tells the story of a number of deeply impoverished outcasts coming to Alma looking for spiritual answers. He tells them their affliction has served to turn their hearts to God, and that they can worship him anywhere.

The second half of the chapter stood out to me as it is Alma describing faith with the analogy of a fruit tree. The reason this caught my eye is because I just preached yesterday on St. Paul’s analogy of the fruit of the Holy Spirit.

As Alma addresses the crowd of peasants, he commends them for their faith. He then goes on to describe what faith is:

Therefore, blessed are they who humble themselves without being compelled to be humble; or rather, in other words, blessed is he that believeth in the word of God, and is baptized without stubbornness of heart, yea, without being brought to know the word, or even compelled to know, before they will believe. Yea, there are many who do say: If thou wilt show unto us a sign from heaven, then we shall know of a surety; then we shall believe. Now I ask, is this faith? Behold, I say unto you, Nay; for if a man knoweth a thing he hath no cause to believe, for he knoweth it.
- Alma 32:16-18 (emphasis added)

Alma claims that faith is opposed to knowledge. He says true faith must be placed in something unknown to the believer. This is why, according to the LDS, God doesn’t provide a sign from heaven to prove his existence or worth.

Alma’s description of faith is in stark contrast to the New Testament’s. A classic passage is 1 Corinthians 15, in which Paul lays out the absolute center of the Christian claim about Jesus:

I passed on to you what was most important and what had also been passed on to me. Christ died for our sins, just as the Scriptures said. He was buried, and he was raised from the dead on the third day, just as the Scriptures said. He was seen by Peter and then by the Twelve. After that, he was seen by more than 500 of his followers at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died.
- 1 Corinthians 15:3-6 (NLT) (emphasis added)

This is not a claim about an inner sense of truth. It is not a claim about anything subjective at all. It is the claim that a man named Jesus of Nazareth was crucified, died, and then three days later came back to life and was seen by over 500 eyewitnesses. It is the ultimate “sign from heaven.”

A similar claim is made by John:

We proclaim to you the one who existed from the beginning, whom we have heard and seen. We saw him with our own eyes and touched him with our own hands. He is the Word of life. This one who is life itself was revealed to us, and we have seen him. And now we testify and proclaim to you that he is the one who is eternal life. He was with the Father, and then he was revealed to us. We proclaim to you what we ourselves have actually seen and heard so that you may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. We are writing these things so that you may fully share our joy.
- 1 John 1:1-4 (NLT) (emphasis added)

It’s as if these earliest Christians are saying, “We know this sounds crazy, but what can we do? We saw him rise from the dead!”

What is profoundly unique about the claims of Christianity is not that it has the power to transform your life or bring you personal fulfillment. All religions and philosophies have that power. It is not its message of grace. Other religions have that too. What makes Christianity unique is its claim that God proved his existence and love to us in history.

Jesus is not offering inner peace. He’s offering a historical claim.

The belief that he rose from the dead compelled those first eyewitnesses to choose martyrdom, rather than renege on their claim. All but one of the Apostles and thousands upon thousands of other early followers of Jesus were ruthlessly executed for their faith. And yet they stood firm. They had a conviction that went beyond inner peace because it was anchored in the historical event of Jesus’ resurrection.

Now, it’s totally possible that those early “eyewitnesses” were lying. It’s also possible they were hallucinating some way or another. And it’s also possible they were telling the truth about something that really happened.

Those are the options.

Personally, I find the story of the early Christians dying for their claim of Jesus’ resurrection incredibly compelling. It is the basis for my faith in Jesus, and it remains with me even when inwardly I feel terribly disconnected from him.

And it is all I have available to distinguish between my own spiritual feelings and experiences, and those of my Buddhist, Muslim, Hindu, Jewish, and now Mormon friends.

In my next post I plan to engage with some of the common objections to Jesus’ resurrection in more detail.

At that time some Pharisees said to [Jesus], “Get away from here if you want to live! Herod Antipas wants to kill you!” Jesus replied, “Go tell that fox that I will keep on casting out demons and healing people today and tomorrow; and the third day I will accomplish my purpose. Yes, today, tomorrow, and the next day I must proceed on my way. For it wouldn’t do for a prophet of God to be killed except in Jerusalem!

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones God’s messengers! How often I have wanted to gather your children together as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings, but you wouldn’t let me. And now, look, your house is abandoned. And you will never see me again until you say, ‘Blessings on the one who comes in the name of the Lord!’”

There are many details in this short story that could use some explaining, like who is Herod Antipas, who are the Pharisees, what does coming in the name of the Lord mean, casting out demons, etc. I’m going to stick to two details and let the others ride.

First, Jesus calls Herod Antipas a fox. Second, he describes himself as a hen. Not many of us live on farms anymore, so here’s the deal: chickens are vulnerable barnyard animals. Foxes are predators who like meat and eggs. Chickens are often kept in pens or coops, which confines them and makes them one of the easiest meals a fox can find. Since chickens can’t do much more than peck at an enemy, mother hens do the best they can to protect their young by gathering them in close and covering them with their wings. Often, this results in the death of the mother, a full belly for the fox, and a chance to live a little longer for the chicks.

This is a picture of ideal “motherly” love. It is sacrificial to the nth degree. It is not often an aggressively protective love, though it can be at times. It is the ideal of knowing that no matter what, there is a safe place we can go – behind the wings of mom. It is often experienced most clearly in the midst of tragedy or trial. And it hurts terribly when predators come and for whatever reason, we don’t have a mother-figure to run to.

Personally, I like far more to fight my own battles than to “run to mommy.” And often I’m sure there’s real value in that tendency. But then there are also times when I’m tapped out. The image of Jesus gathering us in and taking the killing by the fox for us is not a picture of vulnerability as weakness, but of vulnerability as tremendous strength. It takes deep power to sacrifice for another.

By far, the most frequent way God describes himself to us is as “Father.” As a stay-at-home dad for the past two years, we’ve been mixing up the “traditional” roles in our home pretty thoroughly. (I have to put “traditional” in quotes because the idea that fathers leave the home to work all day while mothers stay home to raise children is only as old as the Industrial Revolution.)

This season of our lives has taken the analogy of God as Parent in all sorts of new directions for us. The stories of God’s anger and frustration take on new meaning when seen through the lens of parenthood. The idea of sacrificial love itself went to a whole new level when it moved out of the realm of romance and into the realm of caring for a newborn baby. We have much to learn, and I certainly don’t think that only parents can understand these things. After all, even if only some of us are parents, we are all children.

I conclude by pointing out once again that Jesus says he wants to be our mother. He also gives us the freedom to choose whether or not to take shelter behind his wings. His claim is that our own efforts to defend and protect ourselves are like those of a chick facing a fox. In other words, we’re helpless on our own. This isn’t the claim of a God who is angry with us – it’s a God who wants to see us live. Instead of abandoning reckless chicks to the foxes of life, the God of the Bible is a mother hen, who wants desperately – with tears even – to die protecting us.

God is my Father. But he’s also my Mother.

Happy Mothers Day.

How did this come to be? How did a Palestinian Jewish peasant from an obscure village in the backcountry of the Roman Empire come to have billions of devoted followers?

It wasn’t primarily through forceful oppression, like Islam. The Crusades and Colonialism came 1,000 years later. It wasn’t primarily through ethnic identity, such as ancient Judaism. It wasn’t primarily through the conversion of kings and rulers, who then pushed it down to their subjects, like many eastern religions.

In the beginning, It was a beautiful movement of the poor, the oppressed, the enslaved, and the disenfranchised. Within 300 years these social left-outs had begun following Jesus to such a degree that it’s estimated 1/3 to 1/2 of the entire Roman Empire were Christians.

This is all the more striking when we consider the fact that prior to the year 300, Christians were outlaws and were brutally and mercilessly suppressed by the Roman government. Even still, their numbers exploded. There was an attraction to Jesus that defied and subverted all other authority.

Sadly, the reverse is largely true today. But I invite you to ask the question, “What made Jesus so compelling to those first followers?”

One criticism often leveled at the Christian Story is the obvious reality that people don’t rise from the dead. Duh, right? This is implausible. It can’t be proved. It can’t be replicated, etc.

But this misses the point of the claim altogether, and I think a claim that managed to convert at least 1/3 of the greatest empire the world had ever seen in 300 short years deserves a closer look. The message the earliest Christians proclaimed (and often died for) was not a claim about “what happens,” though there are elements of this in what they taught. First and foremost it was a claim about “what happened.” As in, what happened in the past. As in, what they claimed to have experienced.

When we read the stories they wrote it is bizarre what they chose to include. They claim they ate breakfast with Jesus after his resurrection. And get this: they even report what he ordered. On that particular morning at the Sea of Galilee Diner, Jesus had… broiled fish. Really? Why not pan fried? Or maybe oatmeal instead? Broiled fish, eh?

There are a number of these details in the Gospels. They are easy to overlook, but they are the whole point. The early Christians believed they had experienced a risen Jesus to such a degree that they even knew what he had for breakfast. This isn’t how you concoct a legend you’re planning to invent that will then require you to watch your children be tortured, your wife be gang-raped in front of you, and all of you be executed for.

To require the claims about Jesus to fit into modern ideas about testable and repeatable data misses this point entirely. The Jesus-claims aren’t engaged properly in a lab, but in a court. A trial seeks to determine “What happened.” Experts are often consulted to describe “what happens,” but ultimately the purpose is to weigh all the evidence, including the “testimony” of witnesses. And this is precisely the kind of language these early Christians used.

And so, I invite you to look past the judgment-day-vans, the wimpy blond Jesuses with lambs on their shoulders, and all the other distortions that simply reflect people creating Jesus in their own image.

This Easter I invite you to engage with the raw claims found in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John’s stories. Read them critically – and by that I mean read them with an eye for the details. The devil (or the truth) is in there somewhere.

We sit outside and argue all night long
About a God we’ve never seen, but never fails to side with me.
Sunday comes and all the papers say
Ma Theresa’s joined the mob and happy with her full-time job.

The simple line gets right to the heart of something that is obvious, but rarely pointed out: how many of us, in the heat of the moment when our beliefs are tested or challenged, actually consider the possibility that we might be wrong? This has come up several times recently in conversations with friends, particularly in regard to the book just published by Rob Bell titled, “Love Wins: A Book about Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived”. Since today is Good Friday and many of the questions concerning Love Wins ultimately have to do with what happened when Jesus of Nazareth was crucified and later claimed to resurrect from the dead, I offer my thoughts on the matter.

Like any other stay-at-home dad with laundry to fold, lunches to make, tile to set, and closets to build in their basements, I bought the audio version of the book. I’ve listened to it all the way through once, and have gone back and re-listened to about half of it a second time. I think the reactions we’re seeing to this little book run the spectrum from redemptive to utterly tragic.

Tragically, the book was put on the cover of Time Magazine. I say this is “tragic” because not only was the article unable to accurately nuance Bell’s ideas, but it also managed to document some of the nasty responses other Christian leaders have leveled at him. In my opinion, none of that has any real value in helping tear down the distortions surrounding Jesus and his message of redemption. The Time article, the personal attacks on Bell, labeling him heretical, etc., are just more distractions that make Jesus look that much more bizarre to those who aren’t already familiar with him.

At the same time, I think there is a real redemptive side to this book. We’re experiencing something very cool at Redeemer Church as a result of Love Wins: we’re engaging in conversation. This, to me, is what makes this book worthwhile.

Every so often someone publishes a book that sends a chunk of American Christians into a tizzy (like The Prayer of Jabez, The Da Vinci Code, and The Shack, just to name a few). I’m tired of the complaint that new ideas “lead people astray.” No they don’t. Most of the time they make people dig in their heels and defend their current beliefs at all costs. In thinking back on all the (wrong) ideas that have (thankfully) shifted in my own thinking, all I can say is, “Bring it on.” I have no doubt St. Paul would agree with me, as he says quite clearly, “Test everything. Hold on to what is good.” Furthermore, as Bell points out in the book, Jesus answered almost every question he was ever asked… with a question.

Conversation is something to be embraced, not feared. Engaging with alternative points of view will either lead us to crystallize our own convictions, having had to think through them more carefully, or set us free to move on in our relentless pursuit of the “good.”

Redeemer Church is a church, which means it is a community oriented toward and committed to following Jesus. We’re not just a social club or a philosophy club. But we have intentionally chosen to pursue an atmosphere of conversation and to offer a wide embrace when it comes to specific beliefs and convictions about Jesus or Christianity. A common analogy used to describe Christian faith is that of many streams flowing out of a common source. The source is Jesus and his earliest followers. All followers since then have always looked back to and relied upon this source, even as they have diverged in many different directions.

At Redeemer, we are comfortable with the diversity of opinions, convictions, and questions that this 2,000-year-old movement has spawned. I believe wholeheartedly that there is value in the diversity.

On this note, a key distinction for me is determining the basis for our disagreements. If someone is trying to understand Jesus’ message, and through their efforts come to different conclusions than I do, so what? We are still both heading in the same direction. To go back to the streams analogy: we are backtracking from different starting points, but we are both heading “in the same direction” as we both journey toward Jesus.

This is very different from someone like David Koresh, who was not attempting to understand and engage with Jesus of Nazareth’s message, but was claiming to be a reincarnation of Jesus, delivering a new message altogether. I hope this distinction is obvious.

Rob Bell raises some great questions in Love Wins. I think he offers reasonable answers to some of those questions, and falls somewhat short in others. If you’d like to know which ones are which, let’s have coffee! In the meantime, let’s remember that everyone else in the world thinks God agrees with them. We could also go back to 1996 and wonder if the final lyrics of “Phone Booth” aren’t for us today.

You ride the waves and don’t ask where they go
You swim like lions through the crest
And bathe yourself in zebra flesh.

Such a great song – the new stuff today just doesn’t hold a candle…

Family Radio Judgment Day Bus

Camping certainly isn’t doing anything new within American Christianity (and to a lesser degree global Christianity – it seems though that Americans fixate a lot more on this stuff than anyone else in the world). Camping himself made an earlier “tentative” prediction that the world would end on September 6, 1994.

I’ll just announce right away that I think Camping is wrong. I tend to think Camping probably even knows he’s wrong. If he really believes the world will end next month, instead of asking people to send him money so he can paint vans and drive them around the country, why doesn’t he take out every loan any lender will give him, and tell all his followers to do the same thing? If the world ends in a month-and-a-half, they obviously won’t have to pay any of it back. When a prophet comes along and instead of selling a book or asking for donations, takes out multi-million dollar loans to get his message out, I’ll think he might actually believe what he’s predicting (although I’ll still think he’s wrong).

What strikes me about doomsday prophecies is their dependence almost always on fear as motivation. My take is that those who focus on “judgment” don’t think that following Jesus is all that great of an experience. For instance, when someone says we should follow Jesus because if we don’t, we’ll get nuked or get AIDS or whatever, what are they really saying? They’re saying, “You should follow Jesus because the alternative is really bad.”

I have no plans to tackle the question of what happens when we die in this post. The point I want to make is that I don’t think following Jesus out of fear or guilt is A) very life-changing or B) what Jesus was looking for in the first-place. It’s sort of like a self-defeating argument: be afraid of Jesus’ judgment, and you’ll never enjoy following Jesus.

In some ways this is the carrot-and-stick analogy: you can try to motivate the donkey you’re riding (if you ever ride donkeys) by dangling a carrot in front of its face, or you can beat its backside with a stick (or both). It’s true that the Bible and Jesus use language that sounds threatening. I do the same thing as a parent when I tell my 4-year-old that he better not under any circumstance put on his Spiderman suit and jump out of his upstairs bedroom. I’m warning him because I know what’s best for him and I don’t want him to hurt himself.

At the same time, the Bible and Jesus use “carrot” language, promising us that when we turn around and follow Jesus our lives will align far more with what we were designed and intended for all along. In a famous statement, Jesus pledges to give us “abundant life” or “overflowing life.” In other words, life as we dream it should be.

Here’s where the problem lies: using stick-language without the carrots is a distortion of Jesus’ message. One of Jesus’ closest friends was St. John, who wrote several books and letters contained in the Bible. One of these documents is the book known as “Revelation” or “The Apocalypse,” which is always the basis for doomsday prophecies like Harold Camping’s. At the same time, John wrote several letters to different church communities, and in one of them, here’s what he had to say specifically about sticks and carrots:

God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and God lives in them. And as we live in God, our love grows more perfect. So we will not be afraid on the day of judgment, but we can face him with confidence because we live like Jesus here in this world. Such love has no fear, because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of punishment, and this shows that we have not fully experienced his perfect love.

In other words, the ideal is love, not fear. The ideal is all carrots and no sticks. Love, John says, actually expels fear. It’s like the two can’t genuinely co-exist – as one grows, the other diminishes. It baffles me then why Camping and others like him would resort to fear to spread Jesus’ message of transformation and redemption.

Caricaturing Jesus as the stick-wielding God of judgment is like describing your dentist as always mad at you without discussing why he might be upset. If your dentist cares about you at all, and you take terrible care of your teeth and gums (as I am prone to do), then your dentist might be frustrated with you for hurting yourself. The underlying motive is ultimately “love” – wanting what’s best for you. After all, your dentist probably makes more money when you come in with a mouth full of cavities or advanced gum disease, right? So why should he or she care? I hope you can see the parallel to the Bible’s claims about Jesus.

(Admittedly, this video has no real connection to the point of this post.)

The invitation to follow Jesus is an invitation to become all that you were meant to be. It’s an invitation to turn from self-destruction and cavities, and to be transformed into the fullest possible human being. It’s an invitation to “abundant life.” It’s only in this context that Jesus’ claims of judgment should be understood.

Jesus’ offer is to set us free from judgment through forgiveness and healing. We weren’t meant for judgment, just like our mouths weren’t meant to have our teeth extracted. We weren’t meant for fear. We were meant for love.

The point of this post is not to say, “Hypocrisy is wrong,” since that’s not saying much more than “Water is wet.” Instead, I want to think about how deceptive hypocrisy can be, and suggest that only with focused intentions can we hope to grow beyond some of it. Finding a person who has no double-standard anywhere in their life seems pretty daunting, but finding a group of people who are genuinely aware of their hypocrisy, and also at the same time encouraging each other to remember it and move beyond it, is a beautiful thing.

As an example of how hypocrisy can hide beneath the surface, I saw on Facebook where someone had visited a church for the first time only to find that instead of the pastor speaking, Sandi Patty was the “special guest.” The comments on FB were interesting, but generally had a tone of disdain. It was pointed out that Sandi spent the whole time talking about herself, rather than Jesus, and also that she never once opened the Bible.

Some of you are thinking, “Who in the heck is Sandi Patty?” For a more in-depth version of her story, head on over to Wikipedia. Briefly, she was a Christian recording artist who had her hey-day in the mid- to late-80s. In the early 90s she divorced her husband and married her lover, which effectively ended her mass-appeal to the Evangelical audience. Since then she’s continued to sing, working with symphony orchestras, the Macy’s parade, and other venues. Her voice is quite powerful, and in her prime she would sell-out 200 concerts a year, often in the largest arenas of major cities.

In our family, we listened to her cassette tapes over and over and over and over. If I had one of her albums now I could probably still sing along to most of the songs. This does not make me proud.

When Sandi Patti divorced her husband, and later revealed her affair, it was brutal. In my opinion, she went through a filleting fit for a Nazi war criminal. As I said earlier, this hypocrisy on the part of the American Church is an easy target to criticize, and isn’t really what I want to focus on. What struck me, however, was how holding her at arms-length continues, e.g. the conversation I saw on FB.

So, let me offer a slightly different version of events – a somewhat altered interpretation of the life experiences of Sandi Patty, and see if it can in some way reveal the deeper levels of our hypocrisy.

I think it is totally possible that the critiques on FB were accurate. Maybe Sandy Patti did spend an entire worship gathering talking about herself and intentionally ignoring the Bible. Let’s just suppose the cynical comments were indeed a truthful representation of who she is today. Maybe she’s a narcissist. But this is where the mask needs to come off. We’re all narcissists. And the truth is, we live in a culture (both American culture at-large and the American Christian culture in particular) that values narcissism both implicitly and explicitly.

When Sandy Patti is criticized, ostensibly for not being “biblical” (i.e. a “real” Christian), it seems to most American Christians to be a fair point. She screwed up big time, she let a lot of people down (my mom cried for days, if not weeks), and she should be humbled and sorry the rest of her life, right? It doesn’t really matter that she published a book-length apology in 2006. What matters is that every time she gets a chance to sing somewhere, she needs to apologize to her “fans” and re-tell the story of the worst part of her life yet again (giving God all the credit for his forgiveness, of course).

I hope you can see how the idea that Sandy Patti needs to say she’s sorry and talk about God’s forgiveness every time she tries to sing, doesn’t actually reflect anything about God at all. It actually reflects our American commitment to individual effort. Sandy Patti is not welcome in American churches because she failed. And Americans (even American Christians) don’t like failures – especially female failures.

As individualists, we’re so inclined to assume Sandy Patti’s failure is strictly her own fault, that we can’t even imagine the possibility that our worship of her voice might have actually – somehow – maybe exaggerated her narcissism. (Remember, we all have narcissistic tendencies to one degree or another.) Maybe 30,000 people paying a lot of money to hear her come sing multiple times each year and also buying 11,000,000 of her albums sent her a message: We think you’re amazing. We think you rock. We think you’re like God.

It’s possible that millions of well-meaning Christians taught another well-meaning Christian named Sandy very little about Jesus, and a lot about being an American success story. Maybe we’re the ones that broke her. Maybe we should be apologizing to her. Now that she’s no longer the untarnished idol – now that she’s been exposed as just like the rest of us – I’m guessing she’s had a hard time figuring out where to land.

The Bible describes us as individually responsible for our actions, but at the same time it describes us as corporately responsible. The whole idea of Jesus dying for humanity can only be possible if Jesus can somehow connect with us corporately.

Judging Sandy Patti like what I saw on FB isn’t what Jesus is like. Jesus is about redemption and transformation, both of which have happened in Sandy’s life. She’s a picture of the Story God is telling. She was worshiped to such a degree that (perhaps) she began to worship herself. When she did, everything broke – forget about her “career” – just think about her family: her kids, her husband, her parents, etc. But now, her whole message is about how her family has been redeemed, and how grateful she is for the healing and forgiveness found in Jesus (whether she opens a Bible in the process of telling it or not).

When that Story becomes real to us, we’re on the edge of seeing through our own masks and double-standards, and catching a glimpse of Jesus himself. That’s what we are aiming for at Redeemer. We’re a community of broken and hypocritical people, trying as best we can to help each other get a better view of Jesus.

I promised to give a list of my own hypocrisies, so here goes:

• I get annoyed with my wife for leaving dirty clothes on the floor, conveniently forgetting/ignoring that there are currently three dirty clothes items of mine on the floor.
• I tell my kids that it is rude to try to carry on a conversation while at the same time trying to watch TV… as I try to come up with the next great word on Words with Friends on my iPhone.
• I talk about how great it is to have community, while at the same time longing (as a true introvert) for “Daddy-alone-time.”
• I tell my kids that people aren’t objects, then use them to clean the house.
• I try to come across as well-read and in-touch with “what’s really going on in the world,” when the majority of my information these days comes from Sesame Street and Team Umizoomi.
• I will read a book or watch a movie just so I can tell someone that I’ve done so – sort of like a badge of honor or something.

Ok, that’s enough to get started. Feel free to post your own hypocrisies of you’d like. It could be “fun” to see how our double-standards collide. If all of you decide just to leave me hanging, then that’s cool too. I can handle it. Sort of.

And finally, for those of you who are just dying to see and hear, here she is in all her glory: “The Voice” herself circa the late 1980s (I love the tobacco ad over her shoulder!) singing one of her biggest “hits”…

To the modern mind this is pure fantasy. We are quick to envision a red face with horns, a pointed tail, and a pitchfork, which immediately leads most of us to skepticism. However, caricatures are almost never helpful, even if they do promote the sale of Halloween costumes. The modern caricature of the Devil (as the Dragon is sometimes called) arises from medieval European art, rather than from the Bible’s storyline.

The Bible describes the Dragon intelligently and with nuance. He is at the same time a symbol and a personal being. He is above all a character in the Story which God is telling. Within this Story he plays the role of the anti-hero. As the symbolic representation of Evil, he is everything God is not. He wounds, while God heals. He deceives, while God enlightens. He kills, while God resurrects.

In this post, I offer an invitation to revisit the Bible’s claim that Evil has a face, and that it is the face of a Dragon. Throughout all of recorded history, people have been telling the Story of the Dragon Slayer. The Story takes on various forms, but the underlying theme persists: that the embodiment of Evil can be slain by a hero who embodies the Good. The story of the Dragon Slayer is the Story of the Bible.

The Bible is not a modern book, but an ancient one. It describes the world from the perspective of particular people at certain moments in history. And yet, the claims it makes are ones that continue to resonate with many of us. 30,000 children will die today from preventable causes such as unclean water and human indifference. Whether that is because they were meaninglessly born into impoverished regions, or because God has a powerful and relentless Enemy, most of us would still say this is not the way things ought to be. And yet, every day, 30,000 children continue to die of preventable causes.

Looking back through history one can see that it has always been this way. Human history is filled with tremendous suffering and affliction. The tragedies run the gambit from broadly general (wars, famines, plagues) to painfully specific (addiction, abuse, cancer). None of us are immune, and most of us want to know why we can’t manage to put things right. Why do Gaddhafi’s and Hitler’s come to power? Why do famines tend to hit the hungriest nations? Why do the poor tend to experience more crime than the rich? Why do kids (and grownups) bully each other? Why can’t it just work?

There are many answers to that question – as many as there are philosophies and religions in the world. Jesus’ answer is that something has broken inside us, something has broken in nature, and on top of that, there is an Enemy who does all he can to exacerbate the fallout.

But at the same time, there is a Hero. In the stories of dragon slayers, the hero is often an outsider, often misunderstood, and often appears hopelessly outmatched. Dragons are fierce creatures. They can fly. Their armor is thick. They can breathe fire. Often they have terrified a community for many years and dispatched numerous would-be heroes. But then the Hero comes: unimpressive and insignificant. The Dragon has no fear, and no doubt about the outcome. The Dragon is sure of itself – confident in its ability to wreak havoc at will, unhindered and untouched by anyone. Until now.

The Dragon’s pride is often its undoing. The Hero typically uses a tactic never employed before and the Dragon rarely sees the fatal blow coming until it’s all over. According to the Bible, Jesus’ death by crucifixion and resurrection three days later is the fatal one-two blow. It is Bard’s black arrow with which he slays Smaug. It is Phillip’s fairy-blessed sword with which he slays Maleficent and frees Princess Aurora (i.e. “the Dawn” or resurrection). It is Beowulf slaying the dragon at the cost of his own life. It is David slaying Goliath with nothing but a sling and a stone. It is Martin Luther King, Jr. slaying Jim Crow with nonviolence.

Jesus slays the Dragon with a tactic no one saw coming. He defeats death by dying. He breaks Evil by being broken himself. He dies so that life can triumph. He acknowledges that Evil is real by experiencing it with us in his crucifixion. And he claims the power of redemption through his resurrection. If he can overcome and defeat death, then he can ultimately overcome Evil altogether.

The God of the Bible is not one who tells us simply to ignore evil. He is not like eastern philosophies which claim that pain and suffering are illusions. He affirms that the pain we experience is real. He is also not a God who is powerless to stop evil, as many non-religious thinkers suggest. Instead, he is a God who enters into our Story, lives with us, dies for us, reveals his power to resurrect the dead, then freely offers us the opportunity to join him in his mission of redemption.

The Dragon has been slain. He is wounded and dying, yet he fights with the furious rage of Tokein’s Balrog, seeking to pull as many others down with him as possible. Perhaps this Story is nothing more than the figment of ancient peoples’ imaginations. But experience tells me otherwise. The world I live in, love in, hurt in, and heal in is a world fraught with hardship that goes beyond the physical. My soul is tormented. There is something broken in me – the Dragon within – that must be slain every day, and in every choice. There is something broken in our world – the Dragon without – that must be slain as well.

Jesus’ Story of the the Dragon Slayer describes the world I live in. He affirms Evil’s reality, and at the same time offers relentless hope for its destruction. His invitation is to join him in his mission of transforming the brokenness of this world into the world we were always meant for. The glimpses of beauty we enjoy remind us of what we long for and what could be. May they inspire us to join with Jesus, allowing him to slay the Dragon within, and empowering us to slay the Dragon without.

I ended up losing that game, and in the process it dawned on me that my son plays Guess Who the same way I’m prone to live my life. I tend to make exceptions for myself, while at the same time expecting everyone else to “play by the rules.”

One way of approaching Jesus’ claims about life is that it he’s just laying out a set of rules. I don’t know about you, but I tend to have a fairly negative reaction to “rules,” much as my son did to the rules of Guess Who. Rules are limitations – and I resent limitations! But instead of thinking of Jesus’ “rules” as limiting us, I want to suggest they are more like an “instruction manual.” It seems to me that Jesus’ invitation to live our lives by the “rules” of loving God and loving each other have everything to do with how we are designed.

Consider two possibilities:

1. On the one hand, perhaps Jesus tells us to love God and each other because love is unnatural for us. If so, that means he’s testing us to see who really wants to try their hardest to follow him. In this case, he’s asking for something other than what we are designed for.

2. On the other hand, maybe Jesus tells us to love God and each other because it’s actually what we were made for. It’s possible that loving God and loving each other are the most natural things we could ever do. In this case, Jesus would be revealing very helpful information about how we are designed.

The second scenario is precisely what the Bible describes. The claim is that we were made for love, but through our own choices we at times lose sight of it. All created things are designed for a purpose. We make shovels so that it’s easier to move dirt. We make cars so that it’s easier to move us. Art is designed to inspire and teach us. Anyone who has tried to use a tool for something it wasn’t designed for can relate to this: the other day I couldn’t find our paint can opener, so I used a small screwdriver instead… and promptly sliced a nice hole in my palm.

Abuse and addiction occur when we use things outside of their designed purpose. Vicodin helps us heal when used as designed to temporarily reduce pain. But when used simply to get high, it ends up destroying our lives rather than healing them. Possible examples are almost infinite: alcohol, exercise, sugar, sex, hobbies, and wealth all serve good purposes when used according to design, and cause harm when abused.

When I choose to make my wife or kids feel bad for their mistakes, rather than reassure them of my unconditional love, I’m ignoring our design. Like my son playing Guess Who, by customizing the “rules” of life, I may win a few contests, but in the end I’ll be dealing with fallout. Choosing not to love my family has a label: emotional abuse. And if I choose to abuse them consistently for long periods of time, I’ll destroy both them and me. Abuse isn’t what we were designed for; love is.

What this means is that when Jesus reveals the best way to live, he’s giving us a gift, even if it feels as though he’s somehow limiting us. As much as she resents me for it, I refuse to allow my toddler to open the oven or to pull steak knives out of the dishwasher. To her, such things are the epitome of excitement and adventure. I’m sure she drifts off to sleep dreaming of the day when she will finally be independent and free of my seemingly ridiculous “rules.”

The fact is, they’re not my rules. Ovens get too hot for human skin because they are designed to cook food. And steak knives can poke your eye out because they are designed to cut meat. When used as designed, these are awesome inventions! Even though she doesn’t believe me now, I didn’t just make these “rules” up to deny my daughter fun and excitement. And as soon as she can understand and work with their design, she’ll be free to use our oven and steak knives.

This is the center of Jesus’ invitation to love God and to love each other: it’s what we were designed for. Just like Mr. Milton and Mr. Bradley reveal in the instruction manual the best way to play Guess Who, Jesus reveals the best way for us to live. As a God of love, it would be impossible for him to do anything less.

Now, the whole point of the event was to spend time with my daughter. She got all dressed up, we had lunch first (M&M pancakes), and then we made our way over to the theater.

As the show began I was hanging in there just fine: We were both chomping away at our Twizzlers. I noticed that the backdrops looked pretty cool. The costumes appeared nice as well.

But at some point I completely fell asleep. I know this because I awoke with a start when she asked me a question about what was going on in the show. On the one hand, it all makes sense: if you put most human beings in a comfy chair right after a meal, turn up the thermostat a little, turn down the lights, play classical music, and have them watch something they find incomprehensible, they will most likely fall asleep too. (The sugar-crash from a theater-sized package of Twizzlers probably contributed as well.)

The fact is, there are an awful lot of people out there who think ballet is beautiful. This got me thinking: what do they see that I obviously don’t? This question leads directly into the topic of aesthetics, which has all kinds of implications for life, truth, and Reality.

A common phrase in the English language is, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” The phrase indicates that beauty is subjective – that is to say, beauty is based on personal preference. But is that really true? Is there anyone alive who truly believes a mountain of garbage is more beautiful than one of the Cascades? Given how many people there are alive, I suppose it is possible, but I have to say – I doubt it.

Some forms of beauty seem more subjective than others. Cultures seem to have different standards of beauty. But what ties them all together is the idea that some things are worth valuing, respecting, and appreciating, while other things aren’t. I may not find the beautification techniques of another culture to be attractive, but when I attempt to trim my nose hairs (for instance), I am aspiring to the same goal as a tribal man who pierces himself with a number of small bones or pieces of bamboo. We are both attempting to align our appearance with what is acceptable, or better yet, with what is ideal.

If we will grant that there is a universally shared goal when it comes to beauty (of appearing “ideal”), then we have to admit that reducing beauty to mere preference is flawed. This is because a cultural “ideal” is something that by definition transcends any individual. When I fall asleep during a ballet that I don’t comprehend or appreciate, I should assume the flaw is with me, and not with the art of ballet.

Now, one might object that cultural ideals are just another level of subjectivity. For instance, how could I ever argue that my suburban American ideal of short nose hairs is “better” than another culture that perhaps values long nose hairs (if there is one). C. S. Lewis discusses this topic in his essay “The Abolition of Man.” In it, he points out that all cultures in all places and times have had a shared set of values – a phenomenon he refers to as the “Tao” (which means “the Way”). He claims that up until the modern era, cultures measured beauty by how closely something (or someone) aligned with the Tao.

Ballet, for example, is beautiful because it is characterized by grace, elegance, physical strength, personal discipline, etc. (I’m shooting from the hip here – remember, “I don’t get ballet.”). These are values that all cultures have aspired to in varying degrees. Lewis draws a conclusion that I think is profound. He suggests that the way modern culture has debunked beauty and truth by presenting them as mere preferences causes us all to become utterly disingenuous at best, and monstrously hypocritical at worst.

Contrary to all previous cultures, we modern Westerners do not link truth and beauty with lifestyle. The only objective value we have for how we live our lives is that none of us should interfere with anyone else’s life. On the surface, this seems to show that we deeply value human beings. But if we really think it through, we can see that it has the effect of actually marginalizing every single one of us. If everyone’s opinions about what constitutes a beautiful life are purely subjective, then ultimately our beliefs really don’t matter to anyone but us. That is to say, we are all irrelevant.

The hypocrisy emerges when we talk about how things “ought to be,” or when we expect others to live within a certain set of values. For example, we of the middle class are expected to be repulsed by (i.e., “find as ugly”) the greed and self-service of the faceless mob known as “Wall Street.” But at the same time, we are also expected to view personal morality as a matter of choice (i.e. relativism masquerading as diversity, which truly is beautiful). This is contradictory by any logical standard. If personal morality is a matter of preference, then there is no reason to expect conformity to laws or codes of ethics. But by relativizing beauty, we have ultimately undermined reason as well.

Reason is the attempt to align our thoughts with what is true. Beauty is reason’s counterpart because it is our attempt to align our emotional responses with what is true. The two are intertwined, and my nap during the ballet means to a certain degree I have a stunted appreciation for truth – more so than my 5-year-old daughter in this instance. Just as we have to teach and be taught how to reason, we also have to teach and be taught how to appreciate and respond correctly to beauty.

So, does anyone know how to appreciate ballet???

Sound familiar? We have a fairly inquisitive 5-year-old, so conversations like this happen daily around our house. We cover any and every topic you can think of, from how microwaves work, to why plants grow, to the problem of evil, to what the factory is like that makes mac ‘n cheese.

I’ve been thinking lately that one risk we run in life is to ever stop asking, “Why?” It seems to me that we spend a whole lot of our time post-5-years-old asking, “What?” We want to know what the weather is forecasted to be, what clothes are currently in style, what foods will make us healthy, what cars have the highest safety rating, what candidate we should vote for, what we should believe about God or faith, etc.

All of these are practical questions, but I think by themselves they are insufficient. This is particularly true when it comes to questions of faith. It is common among those of us who are religious to – at some point in our faith journey – stop asking, “Why?” and simply ask, “What?” When this happens we tend to worry more about what we should do, what we should say, what we should think, and what we should look like to others than about why any of that stuff matters in the first place.

What’s worse, when this shift takes place, those of us who are Christians all too often begin to respond to the “Why?” questions with non-answers such as, “That’s how we’ve always done it,” or “Because the Bible says so.” These are defensive answers and they reveal our loss of Jesus’ answer. How we answer the “Why?” questions about faith has everything to do with our perception of him and his message.

If we take Jesus to be a moral enforcer, then our answer to “Why?” questions falls along moralistic lines: “Because it’s the right thing to do,” or “Because if you don’t, God will judge you for it.” If we take Jesus to be a cultural icon and identity marker, then we give some form of the “That’s the way our family/race/nation has always done it” answer. If we take him to be an emotional support, then we answer “Because it makes me feel better when I obey him.”

But while isolated sayings of Jesus can be pulled out to support these examples, none of them capture the essence and fullness of Jesus’ message. Jesus’ message is a message of redemption. From start to finish, the Story the Bible tells is one of a beautiful but broken world in need of help. It is in this message of redemption that we are shown the ultimate Why.

Jesus claims that the “Why’s” matter just as much – if not more – than the “What’s.” So for instance, Christians are called upon to care for the poor. This is hardly uncommon amongst the religions and philosophies of the world. “What” we are called to do is almost universally recognized: we should care for the poor. But Jesus calls us to care for the poor because people matter, God made them and loves them, and poverty ought to be redeemed because it’s not the way the world is supposed to be. Jesus came to make the world right, and his followers are invited to join him in his mission.

When we internalize and embrace Jesus’ overarching mission and message of redemption, we catch a glimpse of the world that ought to be. All that Jesus was and all that he did, from his teachings, to his miracles, to his confrontations, to his death and resurrection – everything focused intently on his mission to redeem the world. That’s why he came. It’s why he died, then rose to live again. And it’s why he invites us to “follow him,” promising transformation and redemption for us along the way.

Jesus says the “Why’s” matter. May those who follow him hear him on this. And may we never be satisfied merely asking, “What?” – no matter how intimidating we might find those “Why’s.”

One aspect in particular that stands out to me was the incredible performance of East Germany, which ended up second overall in the final medal count. (The Soviet Union was first and the U.S. was third.) Today, I hardly think about Germany at all, let alone that it was once divided in two. But in the summer of ’88, it was a big deal. (Does anyone else remember that “Bonn” was the capital of West Germany?!)

Today, there is a great deal of turmoil and unrest in the Arab world, particularly in Libya. One article I read (which I can’t seem to find again) compared Libya to the former Yugoslavia. The author stated that there are a wide variety of tribal groups who will likely turn on each other once the existing government of Muammar Gaddafi is ousted. (Yugoslavia is another one of those “commie” enemies that I rooted against in ’88 but don’t really think about anymore.)

We’ll have to wait and see whether the prediction of Libya descending into tribal warfare comes true or not, although at this point it seems to be unfounded. And yet, our news is filled with stories from around the world of fragmentation and fracture amongst people-groups. Why does that happen? Why do we have a drive within us to identify with “our people” against “the others” – a drive that can be so strong that it often leads to war?

In the U.S. we fracture and fragment along racial lines, socio-economic lines, gender lines, age lines, and the list goes on and on. Many of us, when we take a step back, look at our fragmentation as something negative. We might feel it is necessary for one reason or another – but we still tend to think it’s less than our best. So I ask again, what causes humans to fragment? I don’t think there’s any doubt that we are social creatures. We are built for community. We thrive within groups, and we struggle in isolation. So it is perplexing to me to witness how often my own decisions lead to fragmentation and division, rather than community.

The Bible tells a fascinating story about human fragmentation. In Genesis 11 we find the story of Babel, which goes like this: a group of ancient people migrated into Mesopotamia, where they settled in an area that today is part of Iraq. They realized the threat of fragmentation, and to combat it, they attempted to build an enormous tower, or ziggurat. They hoped the ziggurat would be a unifying force for their community, as it would provide them with fame and prestige. To the modern person, this likely sounds all well and good. I mean, isn’t a shared endeavor a good thing for a community? Isn’t civic pride something to be pursued and valued?

And yet, the Bible doesn’t seem to approve of this attempt at unity through collective fame. We’re told that God comes down, sees what they’re up to, and in order to prevent them from achieving their desired unity, causes them to fracture into a number of different language-groups. Thus, we have the Bible’s explanation for why human beings don’t simply speak different dialects, but utterly different languages. The story concludes with each language-group migrating away from Babel in different directions – a mass dispersion that we continue to reel from even today in places like Libya, Iraq, the former Yugoslavia, and the metro-Chicago area.

So what’s the point? A big question to me is, “Why does God cause fragmentation at Babel?” Perhaps he wanted to subvert their pride in their own achievements. God’s Story is always one of seeking redemption in our lives – he wants to set us free from the distractions and limitations we impose upon ourselves. Making the focus and purpose of our lives the building of a ziggurat whereby we might gain regional fame is far less than the purpose and meaning we were meant for. I don’t know if that’s what the writer of Genesis was trying to convey or not, but what I do know is that God is not pro-fragmentation.

In thinking about how fragmented the human race tends to be, we should also think about the moments – the glimpses throughout history, in which we did come together. Now, I mean true reunification – not the uniting of one group against another, such as we experienced following the 9/11 attacks. Our nation appeared to reunite quickly and strongly, but it was a uniting against terrorism. What about the moments when people have united not against another group, but for something transcendent and profound?

I believe this is actually what is at the heart of the community that tried to build Babel. They united, but they united for themselves, which ultimately means they united against others. The Bible picks up and continues the story of Babel much later in the book of Acts, chapter 2. We might say this is chapter 2 of the Story of Babel. In this story, Jesus’ resurrection has already occurred and he has appeared to more than 500 of his followers. These followers believe they have seen, touched, ate with, and conversed with him. Their belief in these experiences is so strong that not one of them will recant their claims, and nearly all of them will be tortured and executed for it.

In Acts 2, Jesus has not only resurrected, but also “returned to heaven.” Now, he is returning to earth not as a physical person, but in Spirit form. God’s claim is that by engaging the world as the Holy Spirit, he can be in all places at all times, rather than being limited to the physical body of Jesus of Nazareth. When God descends in the form of the Holy Spirit, we’re told of a bizarre phenomenon experienced by Jesus’ followers, who were at that time in the city of Jerusalem. The claim is that they began to speak in foreign languages – languages they had never learned.

Not only do these Palestinian Jews begin to speak all different languages, but at the same time, there are visitors in Jerusalem from all over the known world. These visitors are on their pilgrimage to the city as part of their Jewish faith, but Judaism of the first century was an extremely cosmopolitan movement. The visitors claimed to be able to understand their Palestinian counterparts clearly and in their own native languages.

Granted, this is a miraculous claim. It is unverifiable today, other than the historical reality that Christianity grew out of limited Palestinian origins to become utterly international within 300 years. But, the purpose of this miracle-claim is profound. The idea that the first followers of Jesus would step out and in an instant overturn the ancient curse of Babel has deep meaning and implications.

The claim is simply this: the Church is God’s mission to reunite the world. When Christians grasp this claim and allow it to have it’s full effect, the results are stunning. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa, led by Archbishop Desmond Tutu is one such example of allowing our faith to unite us – not against our enemies, but with them.

Reporting the possibility that Libya will descend into tribalism is honestly not “news” in the sense that it is not “new”. Ever since people started recording history for us, they have told us stories of human conflict and fragmentation. This is not the world that ought to be. We were meant for more. We were meant for unity and community with the God who made us and with each other.

When the Church pursues a mission other than that of reuniting people with God and with each other, it misses its calling. Ultimately, when we do not hold fast to this mission, we end up trying to unite around something less – perhaps our unique doctrinal views, or our building projects, or our political preferences – all of which are unity against others. When this happens, we are no different from the community at Babel, simply seeking to “make a name for ourselves.”

Before engaging further, I want to say that blogging for me is not debate class. I have not arbitrarily been assigned a thesis to defend, which I must do at all costs in order to get an “A”. Instead, this discussion concerns the ultimate questions of life, with immeasurable implications for how we interpret the past, how we live in the present, and what we expect of the future. I sincerely hope that I have the intellectual honesty and the “guts” to allow truth to take me “whithersoever it leadeth,” as Socrates (and Jesus… and St. Paul) admonished.

I don’t write this post (or any other for that matter) simply to try to “win” a debate, as no such “victory” could be possible. I have no illusions of offering some kind of final or ultimate “proof” for the truth of my Christian faith. I happen to believe that no one can “prove” their ultimate view of reality, and that no matter what worldview we adhere to, we must always resort to some measure of “faith,” albeit “rational faith.” But that is another claim, and not the focus of this particular post.

One critique of my claim that love points to something beyond the physical was that while my post claimed to be based on reason, it was actually an appeal to emotion. I disagree with this, and I want to try to explain why. The suggestion goes like this:

I, Jonathan, am not emotionally fulfilled by the idea that love is nothing more than chemical processes taking place in my brain. Therefore, I conclude that God must exist since this is the only way I can give and receive love in an emotionally fulfilling way.

I agree that putting it like this is an appeal to emotion, but this isn’t the claim I am making.

Instead, I am asking the question, “What is the best explanation for the phenomenon known as ‘love’ that I, nearly all other human beings, and even other species of animals experience?” On its face, I can see how this would sound emotional. But this is where I believe the true issue lies: it is not a question of “How do we best interpret the data of ‘love’?” but rather “What premises do we start with when seeking to interpret the data of ‘love’?” These are two related but different questions, and my disagreement with naturalism is tied much more to the second question than the first.

The problem with the first question is that it overlooks our true disagreement. Everyone can agree that “love” exists. Debating what causes love to exist versus what effect(s) love has upon us is like debating whether the chicken or the egg came first. I believe love in transcendent form comes first, and then effects us physiologically and chemically. A naturalist believes chemical reactions come first, leading to the pleasurable experience of love. This is an impasse. We are evaluating the same data: we observe that people experiencing love also have chemical reactions in their brains. But we are interpreting this data very differently.

The difference in our interpretation is directly tied to our worldviews – our “starting points.” For me, it is more plausible that love points to a transcendent God, rather than that love emerged from biomolecules through random chance. It is this issue of plausibility (I believe the philosophical term is “warrant”) that reveals the central divergence between all worldviews, religions, and philosophies. (For those of you especially interested in the philosophical side of all this, I suggest checking out the paper by Princeton philosopher Gilbert Harman entitled, “The Inference to the Best Explanation.” I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it, but I believe it is the same or at least a similar idea to the one I’m advocating.)

I don’t believe it is a question of who is smarter than whom. Nor do I believe it is a question of who is rational and who is irrational. It is a question of which worldview offers the most explanatory power for the experience of life. I am a Christian because I believe Jesus offers the most consistent description of Reality. As I tried to lay out in my earlier post, I am excited by the possibilities scientific research has and will continue to afford us. Christianity has a history of valuing knowledge and understanding of the natural world, anchored in the claim laid out by St. Paul in Romans 1 that the natural world reflects the God who created it.

By discovering such things as the fine-tuning of physical constants, the incredible predictive power of mathematics, the existence of the Big Bang, and the complexity of life from the atom to DNA to the cell to photosynthesis, Christians believe we can catch a glimpse of the transcendence that created us. I want to be very clear: these phenomenon I’ve just listed are not “proof” in my opinion, but they are data – evidence – that can be rationally interpreted in various ways. I view my examples from the last post such as the altruism shown by dolphins and elephants in a similar way. Thus, I believe I integrate the true purpose of science (discovery and knowledge of the natural world) into my view of Reality.

This provides an opportunity to answer a second criticism, which is that I distort naturalisms’ claims with my statement, “Functionally, love is often opposed to individual survival. Sacrifice makes little sense in a world built by random chemical processes.” On this criticism I want to back down a bit. I spent a good amount of time tracking down the different theories posited for altruism from a naturalistic standpoint and I now think my statement was overly broad. An excellent summary of these theories can be found here. Nevertheless, I have to say that even though naturalists successfully construct theories which incorporate the data of altruism in animals, the question can and should still be asked, “Which worldview best interprets the data?”

From a naturalistic standpoint, altruism has some kind of relationship to survival and furtherance of one’s species. Obviously, if an animal sacrifices itself to save it’s young, then it has successfully perpetuated it’s own DNA. Even if an animal were to sacrifice itself for it’s pack, or pod, or pride, naturalists still see that it does so ultimately for it’s own sake. This is a perfectly logical and rational interpretation of the data of animal altruism (and one that I was uninformed about).

However, I want to offer a challenge: interpreting altruism as ultimately about furtherance of one’s own DNA is not strictly speaking the kind of altruism that we as humans tend to prize. Of course, we’re very glad when parents take care of their children rather than throw them in garbage bins. But what truly grips us and causes us to applaud and lay honors upon someone is when they serve someone who is Other. I suggest this is altruism in its “purest form,” to borrow the language of centered sets. The degree that the love we extend to others adheres to this pure center is the degree to which we elevate and prize it. This is why Mother Theresa is so revered: she gave dignity to the Extreme Other – those who almost certainly could not repay her, would almost certainly not breed with her, and would almost certainly not breed with anyone distantly related to her.

At this point we need to take a break and watch this clip, suggested via a comment in the previous post:

Sarah recognizes in the Terminator a glimpse of the pure center of love. The purpose of this scene is to strike us with the idea that a machine could “love” our children better than us. Sarah is clearly “settling” – she longs for more than mechanical love for John. She wants more than a machine to be a father to her son.

In my opinion, the fact (“data”) that humans value and prize sacrificial love points more to a transcendent explanation than to a naturalistic one. This is further reinforced in my mind by considering data from outside the human species, such as how dogs will care for stray cats – an instance in which DNA propagation genuinely doesn’t seem to be the purpose. No doubt naturalists have explanations for the data – I simply am stating my claim that I believe Christianity provides a better explanation when it comes to interpreting the phenomenon we call “love.”

Happy Valentine’s Day and may the conversation continue!

The truth is, I haven’t had much to say the past month and a half, and it seemed lame and inauthentic to write something just for the sake of writing it. Today, however, the tide has turned. A number of factors have converged in my head giving me the nudge I needed to get back to writing. First, I had a fairly overwhelming realization about my wife, Amy. Second, I listened to a sermon by Tim Keller, a pastor in NYC, regarding the reasonableness of faith. Third, I read the cover article of this week’s Time Magazine. How could all three of those come together, you might ask? Ah, but that is the mystery of the chemical processes, electricity, and neurological synapses which constitute my brain.

Rise of the Machines
This week’s Time article is about an idea called “The Singularity,” by senior writer Lev Grossman. He defines Singularity as “the moment when technological change becomes so rapid and profound, it represents a rupture in the fabric of human history.” Humans are incredibly adaptable creatures, which is probably why most of us haven’t really noticed the exponential transformation taking place via technology. For instance, my new iPhone 4 is “about a millionth the size of, a millionth the price of, and a thousand times more powerful” than the computers in use at MIT 40 years ago. Considering the full scope of history, that’s astonishingly rapid change.

The Singularity idea is fairly broad, but what defines it is a belief that at some point in the not-too-distant future (perhaps 2045?) artificial intelligence will surpass human intelligence to such a degree that machines will for all practical purposes become a species of their own. Believers in the Singularity are called Singularitarians. They hold conferences and count among their members some of the smartest and most innovative thinkers alive. Predictions about the Singularity vary widely, from conflict (think The Matrix) to essential human immortality (by scanning our consciousness into a computer system).

What stands out to me in the perspective of Singularitarians is the assumption, dare I say the belief, that humans are ultimately mechanistic. I have no doubt that technology will continue to advance exponentially and I am personally excited about the possibilities. Google is experimenting with cars that drive themselves – imagine a world devoid of car accidents. 30,000 Parkinson’s patients currently have neural implants. The possibilities are literally endless. And yet, in our fascination with the potential power of machines, are we perhaps missing something by assuming we too are machines?

Mechanical Love
Monday is Valentine’s Day, which of course symbolizes “love.” Love is a fascinating phenomenon, and I for one do not believe that only humans can experience it. I have no doubt that certain animals are able to give and receive love in a meaningful way. My question at hand is whether or not machines can experience “love.” A related question is, “Are human beings nothing more than highly complex machines?”

In my mind, love is one instance that conflicts with the claim that humans are essentially highly advanced machines. The sermon I listened to is titled “Noah and the Reasons of Faith: Faith as Understanding.” In it, Keller unpacks the Bible’s claim that faith is based on reason. Often this claim is overlooked by the popular notion that faith is the antithesis of reason. However, I suggest the Bible is right and our cultural assumption is wrong. Here’s a great example from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade:

The fact is, Indy had every reason to step out over the canyon. Why? Because the Grail Diary had never led him wrong. Up to that point it had properly identified and led him past every obstacle. And so, he had every reason to believe it would lead him right once again. Stepping out was a leap of faith – it was risky. But I suggest is was actually less risky than choosing not to step out, in which case his father would certainly have died.

The Grounds for Love
Now, I want to try to tie these various strands of thought together. Humans are wired for love. We long for it. We search for it. When we find it we prize it. This is why we have the somewhat bizarre commercialized extravaganza known as “Valentine’s Day.” Love drives our art, our relationships, our storytelling, and of course – our religions. But where does “love” come from? If we are simply machines that have evolved and adapted on the basis of random chance and natural selection, where and why does love fit in at all? Functionally, love is often opposed to individual survival. Sacrifice makes little sense in a world built by random chemical processes.

My opinion is that love is an outlier for the naturalist and the skeptic, while for the Christian it is the core. Christianity has no problem incorporating technological advancement, or even the Singularity. Admittedly, Christianity presents certain intellectual challenges, such as the intractable problem of evil. And yet, I remain unconvinced of the naturalists’ commitment – their belief that physical matter is all that exists.

Is such a premise – such a hypothesis – one that is able to stand up in the face of all (or even the majority) of the data? Naturalist philosophers such as Richard Dawkins will point to religion as the problem, citing religious conflicts and wars as examples of how faith is “evil” or “bad.” And yet, on what grounds can one argue that something is “good” or “bad” if all one has to work with is random chemical processes going off inside one’s brain?

Keller pointed out the difficulty western nations have in continuing to plead and argue for the equal treatment of women and ethnic minorities in the Third World. Third World leaders typically assert that such ideals are merely “western values.” On what basis can one respond to these leaders’ claim that morality is simply a cultural phenomenon? Truly, is it ok to forcibly circumcise tribal girls, a horrific process that frequently leads to their death, just because that’s part of their tribe’s value system? Or is it ok to liquidate 6,000,000 Jews simply because that is consistent with National Socialist “values”?

Love is a universal human experience, and as I said before, it can be observed in all highly sentient creatures. This includes, for instance, the way a pod of dolphins will assist an ill member with surfacing, or the way African elephants perform a highly ritualized funeral for their deceased, or the way a dog can connect with us merely through eye contact. Explaining why love exists ought to be at least as important to us as explaining gravity or the nuclear fusion of the sun. I suggest that explaining love ought to be central to the claims we make about the world. Any explanation of why the world is the way it is and how it works has to include Valentine’s Day as more than just an outlier.

Alternate Explanations
I will be 65 years old in 2045, the year Singularitarian Raymond Kurzweil predicts artificial intelligence will be around 1 billion times greater than all human intelligence combined. It is at that point that he anticipates being able to “resurrect” his deceased father, perhaps in cyborg form, by recreating the mechanical processes of his father’s consciousness. While I think it will be really cool to “resurrect” the consciousness of dead people (“Hey JFK, did you see who really pulled the trigger?!”), I am skeptical that machines processing 1s and 0s will ever be capable of the experience we refer to as “love.”

A machine can remember to send flowers on Valentine’s Day far better than I ever will. A machine can say all the right lines at exactly the right time. But having realized last week that the woman I’m married to now is exponentially more of a person than she was when I met her 12 years ago keeps me convinced that love goes beyond the boundaries of physical explanations. In fact, the times when I fall into “routine” or “mechanistic” treatment of my wife are the times when love is actually less present.

I believe love takes place in our souls, which certainly affects our physical bodies. I have no problem recognizing the chemical reactions and stimuli that my love for my wife creates in my brain. But if the chemical experience is all that love is, then most of us are severely deluded. This “thing” that we spend our lives longing for, chasing after, and prizing is nothing more than the same experience I can get from crack or meth. The joy of raising, knowing, and loving my children is comparable to heroin or acid. It is simply a chemical response in my brain.

Reasonable Faith
Richard Dawkins may be right, and I may be wrong. Perhaps the love I cherish is truly nothing more than synapses firing in a particular sequence. However, I try to approach life rationally, and reason tells me Dawkins’ explanation is flawed. He offers some brilliant insights into the mechanisms of the natural world, but his overarching assumption that everything is mechanistic is in the end, too simplistic. Jesus’ claim that love is at the center of our souls (and that our souls exist in the first place) because we were built that way strikes me as the most reasonable explanation for the world I experience.

And so, when standing at the edge of a canyon with no bridge in sight – but having been led redemptively for years by the claims, teachings, and example of Jesus, and knowing that on the other side is something that will save the ones I love – I hope I will respond as Indiana Jones did: that I will walk by (reasonable) faith, and not by sight.

It’s a picture-perfect moment. I feel like I’m experiencing the song “Silent Night”: all is calm and all is bright. In this moment hope stirs in my heart and peace reigns in my soul.

In some ways it was an amazing day. In others it was just like the rest: filled with moments of tension, stress, and frustration. But tonight, as I sit here with my laptop, it’s picture-perfect.

The problem is that the moment won’t last. It never does. It will come again, of course, but these moments of perfection are passing things. As Norman Maclean says in A River Runs Through It:

At that moment I knew, surely and clearly, that I was witnessing perfection. He stood before us, suspended above the earth, free from all its laws like a work of art. And I knew, just as surely and clearly, that life is not a work of art, and that the moment could not last.

These lines come as he is fishing with his brother, a tortured soul on an inevitable path of self-destruction. And yet, in this particular moment, his brother is free from his demons and together they experience the brilliant life we are all meant for.

PIcture-perfect moments remind us of two things:

1. Life can be beautiful.
2. Life too often is not beautiful.

Jesus’ message is one of transformation and redemption. He acknowledges the potential for beauty while at the same time acknowledging its all-too-frequent shortcomings.

Life is only occasionally as it should be. We long for those moments. We soak them up when they arrive. And we mourn them when they pass.

Tonight I am filled with joy by this glimpse of the world that ought to be. Christmas means God came into the darkness. And one day, all the wrongs will be made right. All the pain will come to an end. And everything that is sad will come untrue.

Until then, may you enjoy the glimpses in the deepest recesses of your soul. And may those moments of bliss compel you to ask the question, “Why does it ever have to end?”

Merry Christmas.

Poor Haddaway can’t seem to figure it out, and I dare say many of us have struggled as well. As he poetically held forth:

Oh, I don’t know why you’re not there
I give you my love, but you don’t care
So what is right and what is wrong
Give me a sign

Love is one of those words that defies shared understanding. What one person means by “love” is often completely different from what the next person means. Moreover, each person is likely to use the word in different ways depending on the subject or object they are referring to. For instance, I’ll say in one moment that I love chocolate peanut butter ice cream, and the next moment that I love my wife. Contextually, I mean quite different things by these two uses of the same word.

So that’s the point: when we talk about love we have to know the context. This is especially true when talking about God’s love for us, or conversely our love for Him. I believe the context of divine love is one that is easily misunderstood or distorted.

There’s been a lot of discussion in the past about the different words the Bible uses for “love,” but that’s not really the point I want to engage with in this post. Instead, I simply want to point out the difference between love-as-contract and love-as-sacrifice.

When love is a contract that means we love with expectations. In other words, we love someone or something because of the benefit we receive. This is a contract because it is a relationship in which two parties provide each other with a mutually beneficial service or product. This is precisely my relationship with chocolate peanut butter ice cream. I love the stuff because it provides me with an amazing taste experience. If it tasted like my daughter’s diaper smells then I wouldn’t have such a loving relationship.

Often our love-relationships with other people are contractual. Parents love their kids as long as the kids meet the parents’ expectations, serve their needs in some way, or exhibit good table manners. Kids love their parents when they let them pick out the toy they want at Target or give them the keys to the car. Boys love girls when they are hot or put out. Wives love husbands when they are employed and bring home the bacon, etc.

Since we often describe these contractual relationships with the word “love,” we are prone to think that our relationship with God is of a similar mold.

It is not.

When we believe our relationship with God is contractual, we end up in one of two places. Either we’ll be very proud of ourselves for being “good” and doing all the sorts of things God asks us to do, or we’ll be very depressed and discouraged, believing we’re always disappointing him. Neither result is an accurate way to describe God’s perception of us.

The proud people think God loves them because they hold up their end of the contract. They perform as expected, perhaps just like their parents demanded of them, and so as a result, God must love them.

The discouraged people think God doesn’t love them for the same reasons – they don’t hold up their end of the contract.

Sadly, way too many of us are living in this pit, when the reality is that it is a completely false and misguided idea. The Story God tells is not one of a contract, but of a rescue. A contract implies that we have something to bring – some benefit to offer to God. The Story God tells is that we’re completely lost and trapped without him. He rescues us not because of what we’ll provide for him, but because he made us and he is good. This is the true reason for his love.

Love-as-sacrifice means love is offered free of charge. There’s no obligation or contract – you don’t have to renew every two years to get a new connection with God. Another word for it is grace. The love God offers us is a gift, not a contract.

When he invites us to love each other the way he loves us, it would be ridiculous to conclude he is now laying terms of a contract upon us. That would undermine the whole premise of his sacrificial love in the first place. Instead, he’s inviting us to participate in the best way to love. He’s revealing to us the proper context for our relationships. He’s giving us a prescription for our healing, not an obligation for our contract.

Love-as-sacrifice transforms lives. When we relate to each other with sacrificial love, everything changes. It is impossible to do so without comprehending God’s love for us. But once we catch a glimpse of the unconditional love He offers, we become free to give the same kind of love to others because we will no longer need them to meet our deepest needs and longings.

If I chose to love my children fully as God loves me, they would experience a world in which their identity as a part of my family is enough to receive my affections. My wife would know she does not need to meet certain (often unreasonable) stipulations in order to be safe. My parents would not feel judged for their beliefs and choices from 20 years ago when they were no wiser or more experienced than I am today. My friends would never walk on eggshells around me, worried they might offend me.

Experiencing love-as-sacrifice from each other gives us a glimpse of God’s love for us, and more than that it gives us a glimpse of the world that ought to be. The world we are rushing toward and longing for in the deepest parts of our souls is a world that is safe and filled with unconditional love. It is the world we had once but lost. God’s mission is to bring us back to that world.

As we love each other sacrificially, we join him in transforming the world that is into the world that ought to be.

USS Nevada transferring from Normandy to the Pacific in 1944. My PopPop was onboard at the time this photo was taken.

I’m enormously proud of my PopPop’s service and remain in complete awe of the sacrifices of the Greatest Generation. Additionally, I have trouble fathoming the sheer numbers of casualties suffered on all sides, the unabashed evil of the Holocaust, and the abject terror unleashed by occupying Japanese forces wherever they went. It was a decidedly dark period of human history – perhaps one of the darkest of all time – and it occurred not all that long ago.

And yet, in spite of the utter tragedy, millions of men and women around the world gave their lives, whether in the ultimate sense or for a season, in order to turn the tide and beat back the iconic forces of Evil. Those who survived the war continue to sacrifice as they bear its scars for the rest of their lives.

This Sunday begins the first week of Advent, which traditionally is celebrated as the Sunday of Hope. We will be engaging with the idea that the hope which springs from Christmas is directly tied to the claim that Jesus’ birth was nothing less than an invasion.

Christmas is a beautiful story, but it is also a violent story couched in terms of good vs. evil and light vs. darkness. It includes a peaceful stable and a manger, but it also includes the madman Herod’s Slaughter of the Innocents. And ultimately, it is the beginning of a journey that culminates in a horrific and unjust crucifixion.

Christmas offers hope in a way similar to the Allied landing at Normandy, the Russian stand at Stalingrad, or the Japanese defeat at Midway. It is the turning of the tide. It carries the message that God’s mission is to redeem the brokenness and restore the world that ought to be.

I am especially struck by the story of African-American and Japanese-American soldiers who served in WWII. They fought, bled, and died for the freedom of others while their families dealt with full-blown Jim Crow laws and internment concentration camps, and they themselves served in segregated units. The story of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team is particularly mind-blowing, being “the most highly decorated regiment in the history of the United States Armed Forces, including 21 Medal of Honor recipients.” This while most of their families were interred for being of Japanese ancestry.

In the story of WWII we see Jesus’ story. Like my PopPop and his millions of co-liberators, Jesus came to bring light to the darkness, to liberate the oppressed, and to set the prisoners free. Like the 442nd Regiment, he was fighting for those who at best misunderstood him, and at worst found him repulsive.

WWII was a high-water mark for various ideologies of unlimited human progress, nationalized racism, and genetic idolatry. We are profoundly grateful for the millions of men and women who rose to the occasion and stemmed the tide. Additionally, the War serves as a tangible glimpse of Jesus’ sacrifice, who also rose to the occasion and gave the world the ultimate sacrifice.

Christmas is the claim that the beach has been secured. The tide has been stemmed. And now it is only a matter of time until the victory of God is complete, Evil is vanquished, and the world is restored to what it was always meant to be.

This is the true hope of Christmas and it is the source of my thanks today.

Several days ago, our two older kids (ages 3 1/2 and 5) were given the Target Holiday Toy catalog and invited to circle the items they might like to receive as gifts at Christmas. (Sears and JCPenny, it would seem, are no longer in vogue.) Perhaps the issue was merely that they were not given adequate training in the art of catalog-wish-list-creation. Perhaps they are just plain greedy little boogers.

Whatever the reason, I was thoroughly amused and heartbroken all at the same time to pick up and review the catalog once they had completed their wish-mission. I’ve included photos of the cover and the first two page spreads to give you an idea of what transpired. Keep in mind that this catalog goes on for 45 pages. Each page looks precisely like the 5 I’ve shown you.

If you aren’t sure what I’m talking about, click on the images to view them in full-size and take note of the item-circling efforts of my progeny. Obviously, consumerism during the holidays is an all too easy target for a blog post. I’m not looking to score any points on this, except to say that the experience has raised questions in my mind.

I haven’t thought of our family’s culture as particularly consumerist. We rarely (truly!) buy them the things they ask for as we make our way through the store. We often talk about giving to and serving others. I thought we were doing well – at least until the shock of seeing that my 3 1/2-year-old son circled the Star Wars remote-controlled Flying Millennium Falcon (only $44.99 through Nov. 24th!). He has absolutely no idea what the Millennium Falcon is, who Han Solo is, or how fast Solo used it to make the Kessel run (less than 12 parsecs btw).

Additionally, my modest son would like a remote-controlled helicopter, remote-controlled 4×4 truck, and remote-controlled walking Iron Man. He’s also hoping for a new Tonka Steel Dump Truck. I guess the one he has which is EXACTLY THE SAME is somehow insufficient. Throw in 4 or 5 sets of Legos (he has dozens already), a Handy Manny construction set (he has two others), Boris the interactive Tyrannosaurus (what?), oh – and a Nintendo DS (only $169.99 and featuring an extra-large screen, two built-in cameras, a music player, and internet browsing – exactly what a 3-year-old needs!), and we’re starting to get somewhat of a feel for what he’s wishing for.

I think my five-year-old daughter circled every single princess/fairy item in the catalog – something like 40 or 50 items. I’m not even joking. She even circled the coupons for accessories to the princess stuff. She’d also like a princess bicycle, even though she already has a princess bike, as well as a Dora one. After all, don’t most 5-year-olds have 3 bikes? I was feeling like if I were to walk through Target with these kids they’d basically say, “I’ll just take that aisle,” as we strolled through the toy department.

All this paled, however, when I realized just how badly I’d failed as a father. The one item in the entire catalog that I actually happen to want – the Xbox 360 (only $299.99 with coupons available for the controllers [sold separately]) went un-circled. Oh, the horror. Not only have I raised children who circle 80% of the items in the toy catalog, but they skip over the one thing I want. If you can’t get the gifts you want through your kids, what kind of a father are you? Instead of a video game system I would likely waste significant chunks of my sleeping hours on, while using the daylight hours to spend quality video-game time with my kids, I will most likely be surrounded post-Christmas by singing fairies and a remote-controlled Millennium Falcon.

Where does it end?

I had a great conversation the other morning with a friend of ours. He’s slowly building a house outside Mexico City. He’s building it as he has the cash – no loans. And when he’s finished (and his daughter is through college), he plans to retire there.

I asked him what his rationale was for retiring in Mexico rather than here in the U.S. He talked about how crazy the pace is here, even after we retire. There’s always the pressure for more, which always means we need more money. He listed off some of the toys he’s owned in the past: boats, jet skis, sports cars. And with those toys came 6 and 7 day work-weeks.

Now he’s had enough. He’s pulling back, working less, and trying to prioritize people more than toys. And according to him, Mexico has a much slower pace and a lot less pressure to consume.

I don’t have any plans to build a house outside of Mexico City, but I’m inspired, and I’m thinking hard about how to turn the tide a little more in my family (grudgingly, even my longing for the Xbox). I know there are always great opportunities to get involved as a family in meaningful projects around the holidays. That’s something we’ve never really gotten together on as a family. Partly, it’s been because our kids are younger, but I’m sensing that this is the year to start some new traditions of service and sacrifice. The Target catalog can stay for now – but we definitely need to chat about it. ‘Tis the season for just that.

• Do you have any traditions or ideas for involving your kids in service to others?
• Any thoughts on balancing the joy of giving gifts to our kids while not wanting to turn them into greedy little you-know-whats?
• And to our kids’ grandparents: basically, anything in the toy section at Target would be just fine. Apparently, even Stinky the Garbage Truck (see page 1 for a $5.00 coupon).

While I suffer greatly from my affection for the Irish, my pain is infinitesimal compared to that of my family. How so, do you ask? My sweet wife along with her family, as well as my mom and step-dad all happen to be fans of the Chicago Cubs. Now, I am certainly guilty of blindly holding fast to the relentless hope that Irish football will soon win another national championship. After all, it has been almost a whopping 23 years since Lou Holtz led them to their last title.

However, my fastidious loyalty in the face of rigorous odds pales in comparison with that of Cubs fans. In case you didn’t know, the last time the Cubs won the World Series was 1908 – 102 years ago. The last time the Cubs even played in the World Series was 1945 – 65 years ago. As you can imagine, the number of folks remaining who were alive the last time they won is rapidly closing in on 0.

Just what, you may ask, is my point? Before I get there, I want to make one more connection. I recently read a fascinating book entitled “Fly Boys,” which documents and explores the backstories of a handful of WWII pilots who were shot down while attacking a tiny but strategic Japanese outpost named Chichi Jima (not to be confused with Iwo Jima). I love history, but what made this book especially interesting was the author’s decision to reveal much of the motivation and resulting actions of the Japanese captors, who tortured and even cannibalized the American airmen.

Tokyo following American napalm raids.

Here is the point: what is “reasonable” is frequently culturally conditioned. Take the WWII scenario: the Japanese soldiers viewed American pilots as nothing short of the Devil incarnate. American pilots were the ones responsible for burning their parents, wives, children, girlfriends, and younger siblings alive. Thus, it was “reasonable” in their eyes to retaliate brutally for the suffering their loved ones were enduring day after day.

The Americans, on the other hand, having been totally caught off guard at Pearl Harbor and suffering the devastation of the sinking of the USS Arizona, along with thousands of young men aboard, had little love for the Japanese. It is now common knowledge that the federal government interred American citizens of Japanese ancestry, confiscated their property, and generally dealt with them as second-class citizens – if citizens at all. The same mentality allowed the American war department to sign off on the fire bombing as a “reasonable” strategy to deal with the intractable Japanese.

For levity’s sake, let’s return to the Chicago Cubs and Notre Dame football. Of course, it is entirely reasonable for me to continue to expect and hope for another Irish national championship. After all, Brian Kelly was lured away from an undefeated season at Cincinnati last year, and it is a foregone conclusion that he is one of the best coaches in college football today (his call at the end of the Tulsa game notwithstanding).

At the same time, it remains entirely unreasonable for anyone to expect the Cubs even to return to the World Series, let alone win it for at least another 102 years (ever heard of the curse of the billy goat?). And yet, Wrigley field continues to sell out every game and millions of deluded fans hold fast to the hope that one day the stars will align and all will be made right on the North Side.

With people capable of such divergent conclusions regarding what is “reasonable,” I suggest first that we would do well to adopt an attitude of sincere humility. Though I do not expect the Cubs to win the World Series in my lifetime, given the data set I have to work with, the law that an object at rest will tend to stay at rest, as well as my own personal intuition on the matter, I realize that I might (possibly) be wrong.

It is also possible, though tremendously unlikely, that Notre Dame will continue their long slide into mediocrity and irrelevance. This, of course, is an empirical impossibility given their history, their financing, and the obvious fact that naming one’s school after Jesus’ mother gives one a clear advantage over one’s godless foes. Shall I rest my case?

My second suggestion is that the human race is to a certain degree incapable of consensus when it comes to determining what is “reasonable,” due to a flaw within our makeup. Nearly everyone will likely disagree with me on this since we tend by default to trust our ability to reason and make judgments. Science, of course, is built on the premise that what is true and reasonable is that which can be tested and proved via the scientific method, and so by definition ought to lead to consensus. Philosophy and theology are the endeavor to apply the human mind to the great questions of life and to attempt to reach reasonable conclusions.

Perhaps this is a self-defeating line of “reasoning,” but I have to say, as a student of history I am more and more convinced that what is “reasonable” has at least as much (if not far more) to do with sociological and cultural factors, as it does with what is “logical” (i.e. if “a” and “b” are present, then “c” is concluded). Logic, it seems to me, is fairly culturally conditioned. This is on my mind as I look at the specific claims of the Bible, some of which are revolting to my cultural assumptions.

At the same time, I thoroughly enjoy surfing the blogs and discussion boards of those who hold very different worldviews and values from me, and am often struck by the issues some of them take with Christianity. The specific claims of the Bible or the Church that others find offensive and “unreasonable” frequently make perfect sense to me. Can I see others’ point of view and grasp where they’re coming from? Sometimes – but not always, as I’m sure would often be the case were they to visit my blog or hear me preach.

And so, I believe this points to a need within the human experience for someone or something beyond ourselves to provide a standard of what is “reasonable.” (Obviously,) I am convinced of the reasonableness of Jesus and his overall message of redemption. His claims regarding the beauty of the world overshadowed by a brokenness in need of healing resonates with my mind, my emotions, and my experiences unlike any other story or explanation I am aware of. In terms of the big picture, I see many “reasons” to believe Jesus’ story is true. And yet, I am well aware of the fact that I was raised in an environment that promoted Christianity, valued personal freedom, inherited an overarching worldview derived largely from Greek philosophy and the Enlightenment, etc.

Had I been born in another time and place, I may have found some other story to be far more “reasonable.” Yet I believe this reinforces my point, rather than undermine it, since it is merely restating my suggestion that we are significantly shaped by our environment. Furthermore, the pluralism of our culture actually serves as an opportunity for us to go beneath the surface of what we are raised to believe, which I think has taken place in my life, and ultimately has served to reinforce my faith in Jesus, albeit in a somewhat different form from that of my childhood.

Thus I conclude that if the Christian story is the true story of the world, then it has the prerogative to shape me. Our ability to determine what is “reasonable” seems to be far more accurate when applied to generalities (i.e. I value human flourishing, I want to have a family, I want to be a good person) than when applied to specifics (i.e. How do I promote human flourishing? How do I defend my family? How do I respond to evil people?) The notion that I can choose to abide by the specific aspects of Christianity that appeal to me means that what I really believe in is my own cultural values and assumptions. The details of Christianity matter and many of them are difficult for me to understand. However, if the whole seems legit, then the specifics can be dealt with case-by-case.

In summary, I reiterate my suggestions:

1. The fact that some people still believe the Cubs will win another World Series means that we are best served by an attitude of humility toward what we believe is “reasonable.”
2. The human race is fundamentally incapable of achieving universal (or anything resembling it) consensus in answering the question, “What is reasonable?,” beyond a very limited number of generalities.
3. Thus, I am inclined to believe that there is a need for us to be informed by an outside source beyond our capacity to reason for ourselves, especially when it comes to the details of life.

Within the Christian story, that outside source is identified as God in the form of the Holy Spirit. Both my skeptical friends and my friends of other faiths will rightly point out the limitations of this explanation, since the lack of consensus on what is “reasonable” is pandemic within the broader Christian community. Nevertheless, I observe similar rifts within all faiths and philosophies of the world (i.e. Sunni vs. Shi’a, Orthodox vs. Reform, Tibetan vs. Zen, and Bohr vs. Einstein), so I while I find it to be an issue worth noting, I don’t see it ultimately as a deal-breaker. In fact, I find it helpful that the Christian story deliberately accounts for this tendency toward schism through its description of people’s inner struggle between good (unity) and evil (division).

And in conclusion, here are my questions:

• Do you agree with the limitations I’ve highlighted for determining what is “reasonable,” or do you disagree? Why?
• Have I laid out a self-defeating explanation? If so, in what way?
• Is it reasonable to continue to believe that Brian Kelly will lead the Irish to another national championship?

The first film was “Jesus Camp” by Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady, released in 2006. The second was “Lord, Save Us from Your Followers” by Dan Merchant, released in 2008. I think both are worth watching for the questions they raise and their thought-provoking ability.

In watching these two films back-to-back, I was completely struck with the realization of how easy it is to distort the beliefs, behaviors, and even the mental capacity of someone via mass media. What do I mean? “Jesus Camp” focused on three kids and the director of a Pentecostal summer camp for kids named Becky Fischer. Throughout the film the kids appear to be sincere, but neurotic and off-balance. Fischer is portrayed as sincere as well, but we also see selected scenes in which she spends significant time and hairspray primping, she angrily preaches that Harry Potter would have been killed if he lived in ancient Israel, and she claims in an on-air radio interview that democracy isn’t ideal because “we have to give everyone equal freedom.”

The filmmakers clearly spent several weeks, if not months, with these kids and with Fischer. What is intriguing to me is seeing their finished product – and what they decided to include. They came under significant criticism from the Evangelical community for the film, and defended themselves by saying they believed they presented a fair and sympathetic story.

Now, it’s certainly possible that the three kids in the film are genuinely neurotic. It’s also possible that Fischer is the simple-minded hypocrite she is portrayed to be. However, in combing the web for follow-up stories on “Jesus Camp,” I found several who claimed to know the families represented personally, as well as Fischer. Those who claimed to know the individuals in the film said their words were often taken out of context. Fischer had to shut down her camp after the movie was released due to threats of violence and vandalism.

On the other hand, “Lord, Save Us from Your Followers” was brilliant in that it captures voices from wildly divergent perspectives, and manages to make them all look reasonable and sane. Interviewees range from Rick Santorum to Al Franken, and all are given credibility and respect in the final presentation. The premise of this film is clearly stated by the director to be the cultivation of ideological conversation rather than ignorant shouting matches. As you can imagine, this resonates strongly with me.

So what’s my point? At a basic level, I would bet anything that if I were able to sit down and have a conversation with the kids from “Jesus Camp” (who are now in their late teens), or with Becky Fischer, I would find them to be fairly normal everyday people. I might not agree with everything they believe in, just as they might find some of my ideas bizarre or extreme. However, if someone were to follow me around with a camera for two months and then cut the footage into a two hour special, I can only imagine how I might come across (“Hey, kids – knock it off! I’m trying to write my blog post!” cuts to “I really believe Jesus’ way is the best way!”).

The fact is, some of the themes and teachings spotlighted in “Jesus Camp” are similar to those of the Baptist tradition I was raised in, such as calling on kids to commit themselves wholly to Jesus and the conviction that America is a place uniquely blessed by God. I have great love for my childhood friends whom I see far too infrequently, as well as the church I grew up in, which is now pastored by my step-brother. As a child, I attended for five or six years and later worked for three summers at a Christian camp. The time I spent at camp was invaluable, especially for the relationships that were formed and the opportunities I was given as a counselor to lead and serve. The experience fundamentally contributed to my desire to be a pastor.

I remember encouraging the kids in my cabin during evening devotions and prayers to commit themselves to Jesus because he could return at any moment and bring about the end of time. Today, I wouldn’t choose to try to motivate kids to follow Jesus through fear, but I know without a doubt that in my best moments, my efforts as a camp counselor were sincere and motivated by the same love and concern that I hope continues to drive me today. While some of my beliefs have changed and I would no longer consider myself strictly “Baptist,” in no way do I want to see that powerful and formative time in my life disparaged through a distortion on the scale of “Jesus Camp.”

The mass media’s strengths and potential for good are obvious. We can communicate with tremendous efficiency and the whole world is only a few clicks or channels away. Facebook is a blast. However, the dark side to all of this is the ability media has to depersonalize others. Essentially, the producers of “Jesus Camp” take on the same role as they assign to Fischer: they highlight her most intolerant, angry, and judgmental moments, and in doing so try to portray her as “other.” The very piece of her that they find offensive (her “intolerance”) becomes the strategy they use against her (their implied “intolerance” for her), and in the end they are no different from her. My take is that they seek to undermine her message not by honestly critiquing it, but by creating the perception that she’s an idiot. At the same time, I imagine the film was a wake-up call to Fischer in seeing how she was portrayed, and hopefully it has caused her to rethink her portrayal of “others.”

More than anything, this drives me to value friendships and relationships with those who are different from me. Those who believe differently, live differently, and have different values will always seem “other” until I spend time getting to know them. As much as I cringe in watching the distortion of “Jesus Camp,” I contribute to the problem if and when I perpetuate ignorant stereotypes of “others.”

Often, my closest friendships as an adult have been formed with those who profoundly disagree with me. Some of them are “more liberal” than I am, and others are “more conservative.” On the one hand, if I had never had the opportunity to know them, my life would be far less enriched. On the other hand, choosing not to engage with those who disagree with me would be entirely inconsistent with my own beliefs that Jesus is none other than God himself, and that his teachings are the best way to live. Here are his words from Matthew 5:43-48:

“You have heard the law that says, ‘Love your neighbor’ and hate your enemy. But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you! In that way, you will be acting as true children of your Father in heaven. For he gives his sunlight to both the evil and the good, and he sends rain on the just and the unjust alike. If you love only those who love you, what reward is there for that? Even corrupt tax collectors do that much. If you are kind only to your friends, how are you different from anyone else? Even pagans do that. But you are to be perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect.

I realize the closing statement about perfection is confusing or bizarre to many readers, but leaving that aside, the claim Jesus makes is quite simple: the Christian God does not distinguish between those who love him and those who don’t when handing out his grace and love. Therefore, those who believe this God is legit ought to do the same.

This raises further questions of “implied judgment” within my friendships and the extensive effort many of us make to clearly define who is “in” our group vs. who is “out.” I hope to spend more time on both of these questions in future posts.

For now, my questions for you and for myself are these:

• Do we truly know someone who is “other” than us?
• Do we truly know someone who is our “enemy”?
• Do we see any tendency in ourselves to accept our subculture’s stereotypes (i.e. “liberals are evil,” “conservatives are puritanical hypocrites,” “blacks are lazy,” “whites are racists,” “gays are bad,” “Christians are oppressive,” etc.), even in spite of our own personal relationships?

Let’s grab a cup of coffee and let the conversation begin.

Quite a few people conceive of God as a cantankerous old man in the sky who spends his time looking for sinners he can zap. There are many Christians who hold to this view as well. They tend to think of life’s circumstances in terms of God’s blessing or his curse. If they find a great parking spot, then God is blessing them. If their toilet leaks, he’s cursing them. These are extreme examples of course, but most of us live with some sense that good things in our lives are a reward for us being good, and bad things in our lives are a punishment for being bad.

The real word for this kind of thing isn’t a Christian word at all. In fact, it isn’t found anywhere in the Bible. The word for this phenomenon is “karma.” Karma is a doctrine found primarily in eastern religions such as Buddhism and Hinduism. It is defined as “the concept of ‘action’ or ‘deed’, understood as that which causes the entire cycle of cause and effect.” In other words, good deeds lead to good circumstances, while bad deeds lead to pain and suffering.

The Christian Story can certainly be manipulated in a way that it seems to teach a version of karma. However, the central claims of Jesus are fundamentally opposed to this idea altogether. A key statement is made about Jesus in the prophet Isaiah’s writings. Here’s the relevant portion from chapter 53:

He was despised and rejected—
a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.
We turned our backs on him and looked the other way.
He was despised, and we did not care.
Yet it was our weaknesses he carried;
it was our sorrows that weighed him down.
And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God,
a punishment for his own sins!
But he was pierced for our rebellion,
crushed for our sins.
He was beaten so we could be whole.
He was whipped so we could be healed.
All of us, like sheep, have strayed away.
We have left God’s paths to follow our own.
Yet the Lord laid on him
the sins of us all.

But it was the Lord’s good plan to crush him
and cause him grief.
Yet when his life is made an offering for sin,
he will have many descendants.
He will enjoy a long life,
and the Lord’s good plan will prosper in his hands.
When he sees all that is accomplished by his anguish,
he will be satisfied.
And because of his experience,
my righteous servant will make it possible
for many to be counted righteous,
for he will bear all their sins.
I will give him the honors of a victorious soldier,
because he exposed himself to death.
He was counted among the rebels.
He bore the sins of many and interceded for rebels.

Jesus claims to be the servant in this poem. He says that he’s the one who suffers the wrath and vengeance of God on our behalf. And more than that, he claims to be God himself – specifically that he is the fullest revelation of God. In other words, if you want to know what God is like, you have to look at Jesus. This is the Christian claim: God himself took the punishment for sin and evil, rather than dropping it on us.

This undermines all notions of a vengeful God doling out flat tires or cancer to those who cross him. The worse-case scenario in all this is when Christians move from thinking of God as a karmic force in their personal lives to God as karmic force against or on behalf of whole groups of people.

Consider, for instance, the pronouncements and actions of Westboro Baptist Church, led by a man named Fred Phelps. This is the church that pickets the funerals of American soldiers. I’m not that interested in the political or legal aspects of their offensive picketing with anti-gay signs. What I will say with all conviction is that Fred Phelps and Westboro Baptist Church have no idea what Jesus claimed to do by dying on the cross.

If Fred understood Jesus’ death, he would know that all the vengeance and punishment of God that he believes is coming down on America for our hospitality toward homosexuals in reality came down on Jesus. Jesus paid the debt, Fred. That’s the point: it was One for all.

One of Fred’s favorite parts of the Bible is the beginning of St. Paul’s letter to the Romans. However, I’m convinced he either hasn’t read the whole thing, or he’s too amped up with homophobia to believe and accept it. The portion that references homosexuality is well known (read it here if you’d like), so I will instead quote what immediately follows (Romans 1:29-2:8), highlighting St. Paul’s key point. Consider for yourself if Fred’s judgment toward America / homosexuals / fallen soldiers aligns:

[People] have become filled with every kind of wickedness, evil, greed and depravity. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice. They are gossips, slanderers, God-haters, insolent, arrogant and boastful; they invent ways of doing evil; they disobey their parents; they are senseless, faithless, heartless, ruthless. Although they know God’s righteous decree that those who do such things deserve death, they not only continue to do these very things but also approve of those who practice them. You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge the other, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things. Now we know that God’s judgment against those who do such things is based on truth. So when you, a mere man, pass judgment on them and yet do the same things, do you think you will escape God’s judgment? Or do you show contempt for the riches of his kindness, tolerance and patience, not realizing that God’s kindness leads you toward repentance? But because of your stubbornness and your unrepentant heart, you are storing up wrath against yourself for the day of God’s wrath, when his righteous judgment will be revealed. God “will give to each person according to what he has done.” To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor and immortality, he will give eternal life. But for those who are self-seeking and who reject the truth and follow evil, there will be wrath and anger.

The Christian Story says there will be a day of judgment, but it is at the end of time. Meanwhile, Jesus invites us to turn from our self-destruction and allow him to be our representative, taking the vengeance for us. Rather than giving Fred Phelps a license to preach God’s wrath, this passage from Romans actually serves as a warning to Fred himself. Fred is a sinner in desperate need of Jesus’ grace and forgiveness, just like anyone else.

The list of sins here is absolutely intended by St. Paul to be all-inclusive. While Fred latches on to what St. Paul says about homosexuality, he’s no doubt guilty of some of the sins in this list, right? St. Paul’s point is that we are all broken, and we all need grace. His point really couldn’t be farther from Fred’s if he tried.

By showing “contempt for the riches of [God's] kindness, tolerance and patience” Fred is revealing what is in his own heart rather than in God’s. Fred doesn’t understand Jesus’ death, and he doesn’t understand God’s grace (and he certainly doesn’t understand the full ramifications of a Church that hypocritically cherry-picks homosexuality for its judgment). This makes it highly unlikely that Fred even knows who Jesus is, let alone that he has grounds to speak on his behalf.

In the 1980s, Christian leaders were quick to assume that AIDS was God’s vengeance on homosexuals. I wonder if they feel the same about the 33,000,000 people living with AIDS today? Are they all suffering God’s vengeance too? Perhaps those who believe so should consider this story.

I’ve gone on long enough, but this concept is terribly deep-seated in American Christianity, and it will take quite an effort to unmask and dethrone it. Unfortunately, Fred Phelps is not alone in selectively identifying God’s judgment, and while many Christians are uncomfortable with what Westboro does, too few are speaking out about it. Furthermore, the tendency by a handful of Christian leaders to identify God’s judgment in the present undermines Jesus’ whole message of transformation via his substitution. The Bible’s story is that evil and suffering exist in the world because of the choices of people – not the capricious reactions of a cantankerous old God.

Do I overstate the point? What do you think?

At the center of the Christian Story is the claim that Jesus trades places with us when he is crucified, suffering the judgment of God that we deserve. The term given to this trade is the Atonement. For many people today, the idea that one person could be substituted for another’s punishment, especially with respect to God, is confusing, inherently unjust, or just plain absurd.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and the story that keeps coming to mind (drumroll…) is the Disney movie Mulan. Crazy, I know, but Mulan reflects a cultural phenomenon that is often overlooked in America. When the Chinese Emperor needs to raise more soldiers for his army, he sends out his second-in-command to begin the conscription. Each family in China is expected to provide one member for the army. Mulan’s family has no sons, so her aging father plans to go. Mulan is frustrated that she can’t represent her family since she’s not a boy, so even though her father is old and hobbled, he must serve. Her father scolds her for not understanding that it is an honor for him to represent his family and serve the kingdom.

We’ve embraced such an individualistic mindset today that the idea of representation is almost nonexistent. However, I think the phenomenon itself is still fully there – we just don’t recognize it.

For instance, how many Chicagoans felt a sense at some level that Michael Jordan “represented” them during his hey-day? Don’t parents feel that their children “represent” them? Aren’t many of us convinced that one politician or another “represents” our views? Isn’t it fair to say our soldiers “represent” the rest of us in conducting war?

This last example is key because it helps to illustrate the idea of the Jesus-trade. If a soldier represents the rest of us in war, who suffers the consequences? If “we” lose the war, then perhaps we all will suffer. But regardless whether “we” win or lose the war, don’t the consequences fall far more heavily on the soldier?

He or she may suffer physical consequences, emotional and psychological consequences, and ultimately may even die in the effort to win the war. The rest of us have a tendency simply to go about our business. We may offer a reflective moment on select days or at the start of a sporting event, but the reality of the consequences suffered by our representatives are typically far from our hearts and minds.

This is precisely what Jesus claims to do by dying for us: he claims to represent us before God. It may strike us as bizarre since Jesus also claimed to be God, but in the context of forgiveness it makes sense. If I am wounded by a friend, yet choose to forgive them, I am the one who suffers the punishment for their choice.

Like a soldier, Jesus’ death is his attempt to liberate and defend us from the systemic evil of our world and the brokenness inside our own hearts. His resurrection is his ultimate claim to have achieved that victory. At the same time, he pays the debt we owe and suffers the consequences of our choices for evil and sin.

Mistakes or even outright treason has led to reports that over $100 million for the war in Afghanistan has made its way into the hands of anti-U.S. warlords. As a result, our soldier-representatives suffer from consequences tied to choices they themselves did not make. To a certain limited degree, they represent the entity that is causing their suffering.

This is not the way it ought to be, or course, and this is not a political post. The point is this: We all recognize the inherent injustice in the notion that American tax dollars are funding our enemies in Afghanistan. And yet, that is the messy reality, and someone has to pay the price.

Jesus’ claim is that both paying the price and winning the war are beyond our ability, and that only he as God himself is even capable of such a daunting challenge. So he steps in, becomes a person, and dies our death as our representative substitute. While the idea of the Jesus-trade may still strike you as inherently unjust, or just plain absurd, I hope this post makes it a little less confusing.

Any feedback?

I was hanging out on the bed with two of my kids, carefully keeping an eye on my 1-year-old who has not yet internalized the principle of gravity. For several minutes she contentedly played in the middle of the bed, throwing herself face-down on the pillows, and generally enjoying herself. Then suddenly, something switched and she became enormously discontent. She started inching her way towards the edge of the bed. Then I watched in amusement as she looked over her shoulder at me, smiled, then swung her legs out over the edge.

At this point, I wanted to see how far she’d go, so I resisted pulling her back into the middle of the bed, or better yet, moving her onto the floor. She continued to inch further and further over the edge until at last, she slid right off. Disclaimer: I had hold of her hands and caught her, so no DCFS calls please! I put her back on the bed and she did the whole process again before it was time for us to move on to something else.

Here’s what struck me about this: I think it’s a lot like how I live my life. My daughter hasn’t picked up on the law of gravity yet, so if left on the bed alone, she’ll most likely pull a swan dive at some point. I caught her when she fell off the first time, so she didn’t experience anything “bad” about her fall. In fact, she grinned and obviously found it kind of cool, which is why she promptly went and slid off the bed a second time.

Leaving my questionable parenting aside (I realize now that it probably wasn’t the best idea to let her enjoy sliding off the bed…), I see in this my own tendency to fail to learn obvious laws or truths (like gravity). I keep repeating some of the same mistakes over and over. One lightweight example (there are worse things about me!): I frequently pout when my wife wants/needs to change our family schedule in some way. Not sure why, other than that I have type-A tendencies about some things, but the result is never positive. I always regret being a baby about it, and sometimes she’s annoyed enough with it to be hurt as well. Stupid. Pointless. No reason for it at all.

I know in my head that there’s a “law” at work here: there’s no reason for me to be so high-strung. And yet, I keep swan-diving off the bed. Honestly, without pushing the analogy too far, I find this to be an enormously compelling revelation of my own twistedness.

I’m well-aware of the many arguments against Christianity, and I respect many of them and hope I am always fair in engaging them. However, the Christian story really resonates with me on this type of thing. At it’s core, the message of Jesus is: “You’re broken and you can’t fix yourself, but I can.” I know there’s a ton to say about this both in support and dissent. Maybe I’m just a particularly broken person who can’t muster the self-discipline to be all that I aspire to be. But the truth is, I don’t think any other Story makes as much sense of my life as Jesus’ does.

No other faith or philosophy I’m aware of holds both halves of Jesus’ message in tension. Most other religions affirm that I’m broken, but the solution they offer is typically self-improvement, actualization, or discipline. None of these approaches (there are “Christian” versions of them everywhere) have really worked for me, at least not at the deepest levels of who I am. Outside of religion, my brokenness would tend to be reinterpreted in terms of DNA, survival instincts, or chemical deficiencies. I have a hard time accepting any of those explanations as the be all-end all of who I am. I know of no other species that is as relentlessly self- and socially-destructive as human beings (although we’re also capable of tremendous good and beauty).

By no means do I intend this as a full-blown defense of Christianity. Consider it more of a personal reflection on what I find compelling. I’ll close with the words of the legendary Steven Tyler:

There’s something right with the world today
And everybody knows it’s wrong
But we can tell ‘em no or we could let it go
But I would rather be hanging on
We’re livin’ on the edge…

Any thoughts?

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A Sensecam similar to the one Claire wears.

To help her cope and to stimulate her ability to recall recent events, she wears a camera around her neck at all times called a Sensecam. It takes thousands of wide-angle pictures each day, one every 30 seconds or so, to document her life. Each evening she loads them onto her computer and flips through them in an effort to remember one or two moments to share with her husband. Here’s a brief video offering a glimpse into Claire’s life: Amnesia and a Camera: Photos as Memories

As I was reading the article, I was struck with the realization that the great tragedy for Claire is in her loss of community. It tells a story of her locking eyes with another woman, seeing an expression of recognition on her face, but having no memory of who she is, or how they would know each other. As she attempts to reach out to the other woman, she realizes it is her own reflection in the mirror.

I think that if we step back and think about it, we can see an analogy between Claire’s challenges and our own frequent failure to experience true community. Her life exhibits a trauma far beyond what many of us will ever experience. And yet, what makes her story compelling is that we know her life is not the way it’s supposed to be. Her husband has to wear a shark-tooth necklace to help her identify him. As much as the Sensecam redeems her situation, it is a far-cry from what we all would acknowledge to be the ideal.

When we forget our own stories we too suffer from a relative lack of community. People were made to know and be known by each other. When we live our lives for our own interests, we cut ourselves off from the ideal. Whether we genuinely forget this truth or deliberately choose to ignore it, the result is unnecessary isolation. Living a self-interested life is similar to Claire choosing to delete the images from her Sensecam without even looking at them.

I hope that engaging with Claire’s struggle compels me not to take my need for community for granted. The next time I am faced with a choice that could lead to isolation, I hope I remember Claire. And through her I hope I remember that the people in my life are far more important than my own self-interest. I also hope someone figures out how to heal her brain.

What do you think? Some people might love to be in Claire’s position, being able to forget all the painful memories of the past. Is community really the ideal, or do I overstate the downside of isolation?

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The post I read is titled “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell the Church,” in which he discusses the recent allegations against Bishop Eddie Long and the earlier drama involving Pastor Ted Haggard. Miller makes a statement that really stood out to me. He says:

In my opinion, the reason Christians become marginalized for being open about their homosexuality is because of people like, well, Ted Haggard and Eddie Long. And not because both men have been accused of being gay. It’s because both men actually created the attitude that judges them in the first place.

Both men, perhaps acting out of insecurity and self deception, trained the mobs that attacked them. They are the ones who brought a black-and-white, judgmental attitude about the issue to the table, and then got cut on the knife they sharpened.

This Sunday we will hear the story from John chapter 4 about Jesus’ encounter with a Samaritan woman. This story often speaks to us when we find ourselves falling into sin and needing grace. However, John is trying to show us far more. He wants us to see that Jesus deliberately undermines the cultural boundary of racism that kept Jews from engaging with Samaritans. It’s not merely a story of grace toward a broken person – it’s a story of how society is transformed from what it is into what it ought to be.

At Redeemer, we’re for those on the margins, no matter where those margins may be or what causes a person to end up there. Our mission is to retrain the mob. It’s not a matter of Jesus being for the “broken people.” We’re way beyond that: we think everyone is broken. It’s a matter of identifying, admitting, and obliterating the structures, prejudices, and boundaries that have been thrown up around Jesus.

Here’s the link to Miller’s post: Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell the Church
If you have a minute, check it out. Then let me know what you think.

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Soon after I finished cleaning up, our 1-year-old awoke from her nap. I went and picked her up out of her crib and then started heading downstairs with her in one arm and as many items from the staging-area as my other arm could manage. It just so happened that I was feeling especially efficient that day, so I grabbed the handle of the sippy cup with the same arm I was using to hold onto the baby.

Being my offspring, she obviously had awoken fully ready to eat (her diaper left no doubt), and so she promptly grabbed for the old sippy cup in my hand. I began trying to explain to her that it was no longer a “warm bah-bah,” but a full-blown science experiment, but she was having none of it. First she tried pulling on it while innocently asking, “Bah-bah?” in the cutest, most amiable voice she could muster. By the time we reached the bottom of the stairs, her tactics had shifted and she was accusing me of all possible wrongs that a father could level at his 1-year-old daughter. She was livid and she was screaming.

At last I managed to make it into the kitchen without relinquishing my pink-and-purple-petri-dish-with-handles. I believe if I had needed to go much further I would have completely broken her heart. As it was, I was able to make her a new “bah-bah” with fresh milk in a clean cup, for which she was profoundly grateful.

As this drama was unfolding, I was completely struck with the realization that this is how I often view something I desperately want, which God does not allow me to have. My daughter was totally convinced that I was out to deprive her of her deepest joy, but the reality is that I wasn’t going to let her make herself sick. I do this with God all the time. I want something that I think will make me happy or fulfilled, and when I don’t get it, I’m resentful.

Sometimes I have the awareness to recognize the better thing he provides, but far too often I’m not even as observant as my baby daughter. She was grateful for the alternate sippy, but far too often I’m ungrateful for the alternates he gives to me. When I’m willing to sit back and analyze it, I find this tendency all the more ridiculous since the times when I do get what I think I want, even though I know it isn’t what he says is best, I always end up isolated, and I often hurt those around me. Drinking 3-day-old-once-warm whole milk is a quick way to feel awful inside and to become a burden on or absent from others in your life.

Can you relate? Does this connect with your experiences? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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As I understand it, when we stop taking an antibiotic early, even though we feel better, the bacteria are still alive in our bodies. Allowing them to recover and not be completely eradicated means they have the opportunity to mutate in such a way as to no longer be vulnerable to the antibiotic. The bacteria are then free to move on to the next hapless victim, who will not be able to treat himself with the same drug due to the bacteria’s newfound resistance. When this happens tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands of times, the antibiotic becomes impotent and ultimately worthless.

I think the problem with antibiotics is a helpful analogy for understanding Jesus’ central idea of transformation. Consider this: In order to take a prescription properly, we have to have a certain amount of trust in the doctor and in the drug. When the doctor tells us that we must take the full ten days worth of pills, we have to decide whether or not to believe her. Choosing to quit after five days means we do not fully believe or trust the doctor, but instead have viewed her merely as means to an end.

In the same way, people sometimes see religion as little more than a series of do’s and don’ts. When we begin taking antibiotics, we want to feel better, and we have a hard time carrying through with the treatment once the symptoms have disappeared. After feeling better, the doctor’s orders begin to seem more like a hassle or a set of unnecessary rules, and so we stop. Perhaps an even clearer example is seen in the choices many of us make, myself included, regarding poor diet and lack of exercise, in spite of our doctor’s prescription for better health. Instead of conceiving of the doctor’s orders in critical medical terms, we regard them as optional behaviors.

In the story about Jesus that we’ll be looking at on Sunday at Redeemer, which comes from John 3, we hear a message radically different from that of do’s and don’ts and rules for behavior. Instead of making a fundamental call to live a certain way, Jesus claims that the greatest need we have as people is to be “born again.”

The phrase “born again” has been used in so many contexts and settings that it has virtually lost its original meaning. Ironically, hearing someone described today as a “born again Christian” will for many people conjure up images of someone overly-fixated on do’s and don’ts. However, instead of carrying behavioral overtones, the phrase “born again” has everything to do with the inner transformation of one’s priorities and values. It is an inner change that Jesus speaks of, not an outer behavioral one.

When Jesus says we must be “born again,” he is giving us a prescription that he claims will heal the condition of our souls. He says in effect that we must trust him both to diagnose our needs accurately, as well as to follow through on the treatment and eventual cure. Failure to follow through will only leave us partially healed, often requiring more taxing treatment for the same spiritual condition at a later time.

Like a doctor writing out a prescription for antibiotics, Jesus invites us to be healed. His explanation comes in terms of the big picture of life, namely, that we are struggling against a brokenness in the world and in our own souls, and that even after thousands of years our best efforts have not managed to eradicate it. Jesus claims the reason we continue to struggle and suffer at the spiritual level is because we have not consistently followed the doctor’s orders. He is not handing out rules, but a cure.

As the current antibiotic crisis demonstrates, we’re often too short-sighted to follow through to the end of the treatment, whether that be for the bacteria in our bloodstream, or the darkness inside our souls. I invite you to engage with Jesus’ claim to be the healer of souls, and to process it through your own experiences.

What would you say is the reason why we have not yet managed to eradicate the brokenness of this world?

Do you experience a sense of brokenness within yourself? If so, what do you believe is the treatment or cure? How do you know?

Have you gone the full “ten day treatment” with Jesus? Have you ever put yourself in a position of trust, accepting his diagnosis to be true and accurate?

These are questions we all must try to answer. At Redeemer, we believe Jesus offers redemption and transformation from the inside out. When his words get painted simply in terms of do’s and don’ts, his true message has ceased to be heard. As the story in John 3 clearly states, Jesus did not come to condemn or to judge us; he came to heal us.

Your thoughts?

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A quest is always undertaken with one’s eyes on a prize and with a commitment to the long-term. The goal of a quest can be an object, a place, or an answer, but in each instance, the goal is defined as something other than the event or journey itself. Some of the earliest written stories are quests, including the well-known Iliad and Odyssey, as well as many modern stories, such as The Lord of the Rings.

Today, we are only infrequently invited or challenged to go on a quest. Occasionally, one of us must do so, such as was the case for my grandmother in her recent bout with cancer and the months of nausea and weakness she endured during her treatment. Ultimately, she seems to have reached her objective: she appears to be cured.

If life is a story, then life can be a quest, and so I ask, “What are the objects, places, or answers that make life meaningful? What endpoints deserve our life’s journey?” Jesus’ mission is to transform the world that is into the world that ought to be and he invites us to make him the Ultimate Goal of our life-journey. What he offers is a quest: a quest to see the wrongs of the world made right, including the wrongs within our own lives, the lives of those around us, and throughout the rest of the world.

Journeying toward Jesus isn’t something we undertake merely for the sake of adventure, though it will often be risky, and reaching the Ultimate End will certainly take time. We are encouraged knowing that on this journey there are always others to walk with us, and even at times to carry us when we are too weak to go on. Finally, we will begin to realize the same thing that Frodo, Odysseus, and my grandmother have discovered: true quests leave the heroes forever changed.

At Redeemer, we’re on the journey, and since at times it can get very dark, or painful, or exhausting, we seek to walk together in community. In doing so, our stories continue to overlap with each other’s, and we see more and more of the Grand Story which encompasses us all.

Where has your life-journey led? Have you experienced the transformation of a quest? Will you share your story with the rest of us?

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At a basic level, it must be about more than simply bailing out the wedding party. If we dig beneath the surface and try to enter into the cultural mindset of the story, it becomes evident that this is an absolutely brilliant way for Jesus to introduce himself to the world. The essence of Jesus’ message was that he brought with him something he called “The Kingdom of God.” While not wanting to diminish the significance of the Kingdom, one way to explain it is as “the realm where God’s stuff happens.” Jesus claimed to be God, and to bring with him the power to transform the world that is into the world that ought to be (i.e. the Kingdom). Turning water into wine at a wedding party that was on the brink of collapse is a tangible example of the Kingdom at work.

This becomes even more clear when we look ahead to all that Jesus meant by the Kingdom – in particular the way he describes its fulfillment as the reuniting of heaven and earth. When we’re told turning water into wine is a sign through which Jesus revealed his glory, what we’re being told is that this is a picture – a glimpse – of what Jesus is all about – who he really is. Jesus is claiming to be the ultimate feast-giver. Some of the best moments in our lives come around feasts and parties. Weddings, Christmas and Thanksgiving are obvious examples, but by no means the only ones. These moments are special to us – we look forward to them for months – because they are glimpses of the way things ought to be: community, joy, satisfaction. Jesus describes the next life as the remaking of this world without the isolation, despair, and evil – and he describes it among other things as a feast. This is why turning water into wine is the first sign: it’s a glimpse of who he is, what he came to do, and the promise that there’s more to come.

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In reflecting on the experience, I am struck by the similarity between launching Redeemer and adding a child to our family. Amy and I have three children, and I can still remember that like most first-time parents, we had tremendous hopes and expectations for our firstborn, almost five years ago. Prior to her birth, we read books, furnished a nursery, had truckloads of clothes, diapers, toys, furniture, and advice given to us, and spent each night for at least a week prior to her actual delivery trying to figure out if every cramp Amy felt might not be the onset of labor. It was something we’d never been through before, had all kinds of wild expectations about, and generally felt extreme towards: extremely excited and extremely nervous. Afterward, I have a vivid memory of driving home from Hinsdale Hospital with her, swallowed up in her car seat, and dressed in the outfit Amy had planned to bring her home in for months. I remember sitting in our little red Dodge Neon, looking over at Amy, then back at our new baby, and thinking: We need a tougher car. Life certainly changes when you bring home a baby, but for us at least, it actually seemed to become more familiar. It was almost as if we were meant all along to have a family, and we had spent our lives to that point just waiting around for the kids to arrive. If you’ve had an experience like that, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Someone or something comes into your life that “fits,” and soon you can hardly remember what life was like beforehand. It could be as significant as falling in love, or as mundane as getting a new pair of glasses – in any case, life just seems more complete. I think this describes how I feel this week about Redeemer. As much as I enjoyed the past year and a half of planning, dreaming, stockpiling, etc., I’m so glad to be on this side of the launch. We’ve brought the baby home – the pressure is off, we’ve learned what to expect, and now we can get into life’s rhythm while watching Redeemer grow. I’m loving the journey and I’m excited for the next stage!

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I remember being a young child and thinking 1998 (the year I graduated high school) was NEVER going to come! I would try to imagine what I would look like as a huge senior in high school, which to my late-80s mind meant wearing tight-rolled jeans, having a mullet, driving a red Camaro, and blasting my cassette tapes of Twisted Sister and Ratt. When 1998 finally came it looked a little different than I had imagined: grungy corduroy cargo pants, bed-head hair, a red Geo Storm, and CDs of Counting Crows and Matchbox 20. I digress…

Starting Redeemer has been a life-changing experience for my family and I’m sure for the members of our core team as well, especially in terms of asking ourselves what life is really all about and how that shapes our response to it’s challenges. The result of those questions is our mission statement:

To transform the world that is into the world that ought to be.

In thinking about how to approach our first worship gathering, I have come to view it as a welcome-speech and an introduction. The teaching on Sunday will be based on John 1:1-18, which incidentally is St. John’s welcome-speech and introduction of Jesus – the one we call the Redeemer. The focus will be on the need for hope – if the world were all as it should be, then there really wouldn’t be any need for churches, let alone a new one.

But I don’t think the world is all as it should be. There’s a deep brokenness beneath the surface of all that we see and all that we are – a shattered dream that rears it’s head in the most painful and exhausting ways. And yet, we continue to long and hope for something better. What is it in the human heart and soul that is hard-wired for hope? Answering that question, along with a bit of an introduction to Redeemer’s story will be central to this week’s teaching. Let’s transform the world!

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We see following Jesus as all-encompassing, engaging our minds, our emotions, and our lifestyles.  Jesus claims redemptive power to transform all of who we are, and so we find that faith in him means learning to follow him in the way we think about life, how we process our emotions, and through the lifestyle choices we make.  Another way that we speak of deep faith is “living from the inside out.”  We are unsatisfied with a faith that depends upon external pressure, guilt, or routine, and instead we seek to be authentic followers of Jesus. Essential to valuing deep faith is engaging honestly, safely, and realistically in conversation with each other. We choose not to fear questions and doubts, and we welcome them into our dialog. We believe Jesus is reasonable. We believe he understands our hearts. We believe he reveals the best way of life.

Relentless Hope

Simple Love

We find it difficult to believe that the world is the way it is supposed to be.  Even though we see tremendous beauty and goodness in the universe, we also look around and see disease, poverty, fractured relationships, and war, among many other indicators of a deep brokenness.  Not only in the world around us, but we are also aware of a brokenness inside ourselves.  We are often not the people we imagine ourselves to be.  We find our relationships aren’t what we always hoped they would be.  We seek happiness and yet frequently come up short. We turn to conflict, escape, and addiction to cope with the pain we experience.  We struggle to be authentic. Jesus claims that we were made for something far better, and also that he has the power to bring about the redemption and transformation we are looking for. As we look at his story, we see that everything he said and did were for the purpose of transforming the world that is into the world that ought to be.  We find in him the hope that even though this world is not the way it is supposed to be, his mission is to right all the wrongs and to heal all the brokenness.  We value a relentless pursuit of the world as it should be, not only in our individual lives, but in our families, our communities, our society, and in the wider world.  We see Jesus as the ultimate Redeemer – the one who fixes what is broken, and we are passionate to understand and embrace the role that he offers us to join him in his mission of redemptive transformation.

Deep Faith

Simple Love

Jesus claims that the greatest way to live our lives is to love God and to love people.  It is a simple premise, and yet we feel that it is deep and rich enough to spend our entire lives in exploration of its full meaning and significance.  We are trying to make love the center of our lives, recognizing that the kind of love Jesus taught and lived was sacrificial, placing the needs of others ahead of one’s own. The way in which we value simple love is by intentionally choosing not to offer, fund, and staff a large number of our own programs. Along with this, we have decided not to pursue a permanent facility. Instead of asking people to come to us, we desire to spend our time engaging and assisting with the needs already in existence in our community. When we live for God and for each other, we find we discover the way life was always meant to be lived, something Jesus called “abundance.”

Deep Faith

Relentless Hope