robbymac

Ichablog(how not to resuscitate your website)

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 05:23:00 +0000

What should you do when your once-regular habit of posting goes out the window, and your blog traffic stats have been sinking even faster than consumer confidence in the economy, and you find yourself feeling increasingly out-of-touch with the latest and greatest in greater blogdom?

Well, you definitely should not take a month off and let your blog languish unattended. But that's precisely what I intend to do.

YWAM Tijuana runs a one-month Spanish-immersion language school every March, so Wendy & I -- along with other staff and recent DTS grads who are joining us on staff -- are going to be fully submerged into learning as much of the language as we possibly can in one month.

Blogging here at robbymac.org will resume in April, at which time we'll all see if I'm too hopelessly out-of-touch with the conversation to contribute much more than a pre-schooler's gibberish.

But hopefully I'll at least be able to do it en español.

On Hobbits & Substitutionary Atonement

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 16:59:00 +0000

Safely sequestered near the roaring hearth for warmth, yet strategically situated so that their conversation could not be easily over-heard, the two Hobbits put their heads together to try and sort things out.

Not wanting to appear the simpleton, Pippin had sought out his life-long friend and co-conspirator for some timely insight and advice.

"It's all heels-over-heads and sideways, Merry", cried Pippin sotto voice. "What's supposed to be one thing is half another, and the other side is just as worst!"

Meriadoc favoured his fine Hobbit comrade with a look both sympathetic and genuinely puzzled. "Pippin, how much Longbottom Leaf have you had before first breakfast?", he asked in wonder, "because you're making less sense than Bilbo at his birthday last year."

Pippin paused, collecting his thoughts before speaking (a minor miracle for this otherwise admirable Hobbit), and continued in a much more restrained -- but equally energetic -- fashion. "Well, Merry, Those-Who-Know-Such-Things are always saying that modernity is all about mastering things like Aragorn masters a horse, and using scientific spells like Saruman to control all knowledge. And They always told me, when I was but a wee Hobbit in the Shire, that postmodernity embraces Mystery like Gollum wants that Ring, and they like living in Pair-O' Ducks..." His voice trailed off as his confusion overtook him.

Merry sat up straighter, and as understanding came, he gently clapped his friend on the shoulder, and laughingly said, "Pip, I think you mean to say Parodox, not Pair O' Ducks. For a minute there, I thought you must have looked into the Palantir again, you were making so little sense! Now, what's this about everything getting mixed and sideways?"

"Well," said Pippin, catching his breath before all his words came tumbling out once again. "The Ent-Keepers of the Modern Ways believe in Substitutionary Atonement," - he stumbled a bit in pronouncing the Ancient Elvish term - "and they say that they can't really explain why a Supreme Being would create a system where He would have to punish His own Son, but -- and this is where it starts going sideways -- they accept it on faith, even though they can't explain it."

Meriadoc Brandybuck said nothing; in truth, he couldn't yet see what his friend was on about. Seeing the concerned but blank look in Merry's eyes, Pippin pushed on.

"And the Riders of Postmodern Rohan look at the same thing -- this idea that punishment and substitution is part of the Ancient Story -- and they can't see any way such a notion could fit into Middle Earth, so it's about as welcome as inviting a Black Rider to The Green Dragon for ale."

As Merry continued to give his friend polite but uncomprehending attention, Pippin could stand it no longer and cried out, "Merry! Don't you see? This isn't another "Peregrin Fool-of-a-Took" thing! Listen:

"The Ent-Keepers of the Modern Ways are content to have Mystery about this Atonement thing, even if they can't really understand it or explain it. But they're supposed to be all about explaining, defining, and controlling all knowledge.

"And the Riders of Postmodern Rohan - who are supposed to like Mystery and Paradox - can't get their minds around Substitutionary Atonement, they can't fit it in their sense of Middle Earth, so they invent new incantations to explain it away. Or they just refuse to talk about it, like Frodo won't talk about the Ring.

"Both of them are going sideways and acting like the other!"

Merry sprang to his feet, a look of understanding and horror on his face. "Pip, I think you're on to something! Ent-Keepers of the Modern Ways embracing Mystery, and Riders of Postmodern Rohan rejecting it... This is worse than the Eye of Sauron!"

Looking franticly about, he drew a deep breath and sudden exclaimed, "Gandalf! He'll know what to do!"

And, their need for a quiet corner now gone, the two courageous and admirable Hobbits bustled off to warn the rest of the Fellowship.

Right Outta da Park!

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 01:14:00 +0000

Bob Hyatt has hit a home-run on the multi-faceted nature of the Cross and the Atonement. Slide on over and feast your eyes on "What does it matter WHY Jesus died?". It's destined to be one of bob.blog's greatest hits.

On Being Well-Read

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 20:42:00 +0000

Our Mexican mutt, whom we affectionately named Eva Baratija, is quite the literary aficionado. She always had a taste for mystery/spy novels, but is now developing a serious craving for court-room drama.

Most recently, she had a real appetite for John Grisham's The Appeal, which she devoured in a single afternoon.

Guys and Trucks

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 03:56:00 +0000

What is it with guys and trucks? Especially an old beater like a 1970 Ford F250 (much more weathered than the one pictured here)?

I don't care much for the bloated, gas-guzzling, over-priced testosterone-behemoths that masquerade as trucks these days. But this afternoon, I was asked by our transportation coordinator to bring the old 1970 Ford F250 pickup from our soon-to-be-former YWAM facility, and bring it into the new corral with the other tool vans that we use for the Homes of Hope program.

The engine runs a little less smoothly than it did almost 40 years ago. At least, I hope it ran smoother in 1970 than it does in 2009. It certainly took some coaxing to start. It also had a stubborn and petulant predilection towards stalling at every possible opportunity. And the chassis creaked, groaned, and complained a fair bit on the highway.

Twenty bucks US netted me about a quarter tank of gas. The second tank under the box hadn't been used in years.

The AM radio didn't work. The seatbelts were functional but apparently shoulder belts hadn't been invented yet. Nor had head-rests. The back of the seat ended in the middle of my shoulder blades.

The air-conditioner was a brown, boxy contraption bolted at an awkward angle under the dash -- obviously a non-factory item. Technology salvaged from the Titanic would function about as well.

But the manual crank window still performed adequately, albeit somewhat stiffly, and as I chugged down the coast highway -- the Pacific ocean shining an amazing blue in the afternoon sun, and a warm desert wind rushing through the cab -- I found myself unable to stifle the silly grin that repeatedly spread across my face.

(sigh)... Guys and trucks, go figure.

Safe in the Will of God

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 06:44:00 +0000

You never quite get used to seeing these guys around town here in Tijuana. Whether it's getting stopped at a road-block, observing a road-side encampment bristling with armament, or just seeing several of these vehicles prowling through your neighbourhood, it just seems... well, creepy.

My father told me recently that someone had been bending his ear with their shock at my living in Mexico: "What's Robby thinking? Doesn't he realize Tijuana isn't safe?"

To which my father replied, "So, where do you think missionaries should go?" (Go get 'em, Dad!)

Just today, in the quiet little Okanagan Valley town of Kelowna, the school my kids went to last year was in lockdown, as were several other schools, due to a crazed gunman shooting up the area. My teenaged son's friends were Facebooking him from under their desks in their locked classrooms. In Canada, the True North strong and free.

Hearing these two stories made me think a bit about safety and the will of God. To be more precise, is it wiser or safer to stay in a "safe" place like a mid-size city in the middle of the Canadian Rockies, or to live in a place like Tijuana, but knowing that God wanted you to be there?

Or to paraphrase Dana Key of the Degarmo & Key Band, is it safer water-walking in the storm with Jesus, or to stay in the boat with the other eleven disciples?

Conversely, doing what God has called any of us to isn't necessarily a guarantee of peace, prosperity, and long life -- Paul of Tarsus could (and did) give testimony to this reality (2 Corinthians 11:24-28).

So, is it "safer" to be doing the will of God, even if it's in a supposedly un-safe place? Or maybe we're asking the wrong question: why is "safety" (or are we really saying "comfortable"?) even a criteria for evaluating whether or not to follow God's call? Are we safer with Jesus in the storm than we would be in the boat alone?

Counting Spots on the Ceiling

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 05:57:00 +0000

I remember having a band rehearsal one night in Mennonite Mecca: Steinbach Manitoba, and then hanging out with the other band members drinking coffee and telling stories. The pot of coffee was always full, and being good Mennonites, they had been weaned on coffee as infants.

In a surreal twist of someone "drinking you under the table", we all went home several hours later, whereupon they all had a good night's sleep.

I, on the other hand, counted every spot on the ceiling of my rented room for the next four or five hours, until the sun came up and I could drag my over-caffeinated carcass off to work for the day.

Sometimes, it's things that our minds are obsessed with that keep us awake at night, unable to find that elusive mental button labelled "off". Basic but endlessly frustrating computer games can oft-times serve as a catalyst for some twisted sort of sleep deprivation experiment.

But sometimes what keeps us awake is good, old-fashioned excitement. Anticipation. A sense of an impending something. And like little children who wake up every twenty minutes on Christmas Eve, there's something that we're excited enough about that we can barely sleep.

The subject of dreams and vision has been a recurring one here over the years. Notable posts on the topic would include Dreams, Recycled Dreams, and especially Dreams In The Dirt (my favourite). Yet at the same time, even the very words "dreams" or "vision" can leave a bad taste in peoples' mouths, or conjure up painful memories of controlling leaders with a "get with the program" mentality. Sort of like, "God loves you, and (insert name here) has a wonderful plan for your life".

But what if we were to put it in different terms completely, and ask it a different way:

What is it that so captures your heart, mind, and waking hours that you have to discipline yourself to not let it take over your whole life?

Or to put it another way, where is the "treasure hidden in a field" (Matthew 13:44-46) these days? The thing that fills you with such a sense of anticipation that you, like a kid on Christmas Eve, can't summon enough sheep to deal with it?

(insert ominous Darth Vader-like theme music here) Or would we rather just get a good night's sleep?

10th Detox Anniversary!!

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 06:15:00 +0000

Wow -- can it really be true? Ten years have passed since the detox journey began to morph into a season of coming back to life?

Not that the wind-down of the detox resulted in an instantaneous shift back into immediate vitality -- like popping the clutch on an old VW Beetle with your foot on the gas -- but it was the beginning of a new season, one marked by returning life.

Looking back on the whole detoxing from church journey, and the writing that I did about it, I notice that one phrase perhaps needed to be given more weight:

"...some people detox out of their slavery to, and false expectations of..." (emphasis added)

Simply "detoxing from church" by bailing out of a church isn't going to accomplish much of anything. The whole idea of "detox" has roughly half to do with the expectations put on us by church people and leaders, and the other half is our own unreasonable expectations that we put on the church and its leaders.

our own need for recognition
our own need for validation
our own laziness; "the church should do something about..."
our idolatrous search for the perfect church/house group
our own need for people (or institutions) to blame

As I mentioned in the original Detoxing article, we need to get dependence on a system -- any system -- out of us. Participating in a system isn't the problem -- it's our unreasonable expectations of the system to provide for us what only Jesus Christ can provide, that become the problem.

If the system is promising things that it has no power nor right to deliver, then that's another issue. But let the detox always end with us looking in the mirror and asking, "God, what is it about me that You want to change?"

Eye of the Beholder

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 06:03:00 +0000

It's all dark but I'm okay with that.

Which eye do you want me to aim at you with?

Not afraid of the dark. Light, however, is way too intense.

Somebody once said -- and it's been variously attributed around greater blogdom -- something to the effect of:

"Twenty percent of my theology is wrong; I just don't know which twenty percent."

Some people quote this with varying percentages, up to seventy percent error but without knowing which seventy percent. But what they all have in common -- regardless of the actual percentage being claimed -- is the belief that this attitude represents a true and admirable humility. A respectably "chastened epistomology".

Let's cut to the chase here: if you really, truly believe that seventy percent of what you say may be theological cow patties, then please shut up until you sort out what you believe.

I guess another way of putting it would be: how much darkness negates light? We usually boldly say something about a single candle can make darkness flee. Does that analogy work when it comes to what we believe? When does the inability to focus on and articulate truth negate our ability to say "we see"? (cf. the three pix at the top of this post)

I mean, I wouldn't seek treatment for a life-threatening illness from a doctor who (humbly or otherwise) stated that they was 70% wrong about medicine, and they weren't sure which 70%. And a dentist sticking a drill in my mouth with a similar skill percentage? Not likely, amigo.

If we take "chastened epistomology" to mean less arrogance, less hair-splitting over non-essentials, and more grace towards others with differing views, then by all means let's pursue it.

But if we use "chastened epistomology" to mean that we can't say anything definitively, then I wonder if we're not playing some sort of theological russian roulette.

Because if we believe that James 3:1 is part of the Canon...

"Dear brothers and sisters, not many of you should become teachers in the church, for we who teach will be judged more strictly."

...then no matter how humbly we say it, being content with high percentages of uncertainty disqualifies us.

2009: A Thousand Questions

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 02:40:00 +0000

Okay, let's start the year off right. Some changes in the graphical elements of this blog, a new sub-section that brings all the Younger/Elder posts into one place for quick browsing, and one of the most powerful and inspiring videos I've seen in a long time.

Let the heart-cry and message of this video set the tone for 2009.

HT to Willow Creek's video department for this one. Well done!

If Only...

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 01:21:00 +0000

I could be as talented, animated, and spry when I get to Abraham Laboriel's age (whatever it is, I'm younger).

I recognize Linda McCrary, whom I'm sure Bill Kinnon will remember from producing one of my favourite worship videos of 90's, Chris Falson & the Amazing Stories. But what really caught my eye was seeing former members of Koinonia (a Christian jazz-fusion band from the 80's), Justo Almario on sax, and particularly one of my bass gods, Mexico's Abraham Laboriel.

Unlike Bill, I don't know any of these people personally, aside from playing with, designing album artwork for, and once even writing the liner notes (which everyone assumed he'd written) for the writer of the song being sung, David Ruis. Six degrees of separation or something...

Anyway, pay special attention in the middle, when they let Abraham off his chain. Dang, not only does he raise the bar on technical skill, but can that guy move his feet.

Post-Charismatic Peretti

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 21:45:00 +0000

My son gave me a copy of Frank Peretti's The Visitation for Christmas, and I read it this past Sunday. Somehow, I missed this book completely when it first came out a few years ago, but really enjoyed it.

In a strange way, if I were going to recommend a follow-up book to Post-Charismatic, it would be this work of fiction by Peretti.

Frank's intent in the book is not to completely address the "now what?" questions that many post-charismatics are wondering and wandering through, but the various characters in the book who represent the lunatic (and gullible) elements of charismania are so eerily accurate, you'd almost think Frank knew some of the same people we do/did.

The book is written in "first person" mode, and is from the vantage point of a burnt-out, detoxing-from-church-and-charismania-all-at-the-same-time former pastor. And in Travis' journey, I see a lot of parallels to my own story, and the stories of a number of post-charismatics I know personally.

And at the very least, it's a very engaging story -- the kind you could read in a single Sunday, if you had the time. :)

Celebration in Tijuana

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Sun, 28 Dec 2008 06:52:00 +0000

Just before Christmas, our YWAM base here in Tijuana had a special time of celebration as we formally dedicated the property of our new facility.

Mexican staff, students, and local pastors led the procession of all the nations represented, from the front gates of the property to our "tent of meeting".

When most people in North America hear anything about Tijuana, it's usually something about the cartels and the violence -- and to be fair, there's been over 500 drug-related gang executions in the past year alone -- but there's also a lot of Jesus' followers here, who are believing and working towards seeing Tijuana change.

The unsung heroes: the Media Department (Wendy is second from right)

I was privileged to join the worship band during day two of the three-day event, and immediately following, was leading worship -- along with my son Caleb -- at the Mexican leaders conference for the next two days. There's nothing quite like leading worship with your son!

All of the staff from YWAM San Diego's four campuses: San Diego, Ensenada, Tecate, and Tijuana -- because the new base was built completely debt-free, we are free to pursue the outreaches and house-building among the poor without any worries about paying for the new facility.

We'll be moving into our new facilities permanently by the end of February, and a whole new season for YWAM Tijuana will begin.

Houses built 1991-2008: 2600
Goal for 2009: 250

Theologian of the Year

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Thu, 25 Dec 2008 08:01:00 +0000

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.'

"That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."
Linus Van Pelt

Coexist

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Wed, 24 Dec 2008 04:50:00 +0000

~~Festive Candleholder~~
Menorah

~~Seasonal Fasting~~
Ramadan

~~Happy Holidays Tree~~
Christmas Tree

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Drive-By Character Assasination

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 21:56:00 +0000

I've heard it said that gossip is character assassination regardless of whether or not there's any truth to what is being passed on between ~~prurient and voyeuristic~~ interested and concerned parties.

I'm inclined to agree -- it doesn't matter if it's true or not, gossip is destructive at best and diabolical at worst.

A drive-by, anonymous commenter has been making the rounds of greater blogdom with a copy-and-paste smear campaign on an author/blogger, and left a copy here on a post from almost a year ago. Don't waste your time looking -- it's been deleted (the comment, not the original post).

Generally, I don't like deleting comments -- it can smack of censorship or historical revisionism. However, there are times where I choose to delete comments. I don't have a hard-and-fast grid for deciding, but generally:

Vulgar references, or gratuitous and unnecessary profanity,
Malicious "baiting" that derails conversation into pointless rabbit trails,
Heresy-hunting trolls (see #2 above),
And most recently, drive-by, unsubstantiated character assassinations -- especially from anonymous commenters...

...will disappear into the ether as if they never existed.

Crank It Up

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 17:30:00 +0000

Music that keeps finding its way into my car and my iTunes very regularly:

	This came out late last year, but Bruce Springsteen's Magic is just a great album. I think it ranks up there with some of Bruce's classics, like Born To Run
	What will apparently be Coldplay's final album is also probably their best. If it indeed turns out to be their last, Vida La Vida means they're leaving at the top of their game.
	Chris Tomlin's songs are a staple in worship settings across the spectrum. And with good reason: he's a great songwriter. See The Morning (and its predecessor, Arriving) are great albums, and great worship.
	I just included this one because my son and I are learning Rush songs together; he's working on his lead technique, and also showing his old man how to read bass tablature. So, we're starting with Rush's Xanadu, Tom Sawyer, and YYZ. Piece o' cake (NOT!). But fun for me and my boy.

At The Crack O' Dawn

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 17:30:00 +0000

The environs were, in some ways, worlds apart from their usual and preferred meeting places, but then again, so was the time of day. They had barely sat down and ordered their food from the taciturn waitress when their usual lively dialogue began.

"You've got to be kidding," exclaimed the Younger, laughing, "it's 6:30 in the morning, and you're already talking theology?"

The Elder paused in pouring a cup of coffee from the plastic carafe, eyebrows raised in feigned shock. "Why not? Are you suggesting you're a shallow thinker until sometime at mid-day?"

The Younger rolled his eyes in dramatic yet silent rebuke. "Well, at least until after I've had some decent coffee, anyway," he muttered darkly, "which doesn't seem likely at this fine culinary establishment."

"Oh, hush," chided the Elder as he filled his friend's mug. "Roadside diners are a taste of history."

The Younger leaned forward, "Yeah, but is the food equally a taste of history?" He leaned back in his duct-tape-dependent chair; "Okay, so what early morning doctrinal mayhem do you have in mind?"

The Elder smiled as he stirred the tepid liquid in his coffee cup. "Well, don't blame me -- you're the one who got the new job promotion with the crazy schedule. Being retired does give me a certain level of flexibilty, after all."

Shifting his weight in the ancient chair, as the skies hinted vaguely at the possibility of sunrise, he continued, "Well, since we're having such an early breakfast -- again, in deference to your new work schedule -- why don't we have a 'chicken and egg' discussion?"

"Which chicken and which egg?" countered the Younger, warming to the familiar rhythm of dialogue that they often enjoyed.

"Theo-chicken and theo-egg," replied the Elder, managing to keep a straight face, although a hint of a smile teased at one corner of his mouth. "Specifically, which comes first -- or dare I say, should come first -- the chicken: orthodoxy, or the egg: orthopraxy?"

"Nice try, my friend," replied the Younger, a knowing smile spreading across his face. "It's early but not that early. The chicken and egg should be in tandem, and if you'll pardon the alliteration, in tension. It's more like having two rails under the train, really, instead of a chicken/egg distinction. The two really can't -- or shouldn't be separated."

"True enough," conceded the Elder, nodding. The Younger was a little surprised at how quickly that had gone, until he realized it was only a momentary pause as their waitress, slightly more relaxed and smelling strongly of a recent cigarette break, arrived with their breakfast specials.

"But if you had to pick a starting point," continued the Elder, now all business as the Younger prodded the contents of his plate with a wary fork, "which would you choose? Knowing that they must be held in tension, still, is there a starting point?"

The Younger swallowed hard, whether from the slightly-congealed bit of bacon, or as a result of some quick deep reflection. "Well," he began slowly, "you're the one who is always on about the issues of justice and being an incarnational presence, so it seems odd that you'd want to pursue this line of thinking now. I mean, the lack of connection between orthodoxy and orthopraxy is one of your favourite pet peeves, isn't it?"

The Elder nodded, smiling in agreement as he vigorously stirred the various elements on his plate into a mash before taking a mouthful. "And you, being a proper postmodern-influenced thinker, are also wondering if I'm having a flashback into binary oppositions a la Derrida, and perhaps raising the dark spectre of foundationalism, as well. Well, Derrida isn't God, and foundationalism, for all its modernistic flaws, cannot truly be called 'a doctrine of demons', eh?"

As the Younger remained silent, the Elder continued, raising his fork as if it were a baton, and he were a conductor, "But if we truly believe that this is all about Jesus' story, and our part in it, doesn't it make sense that we have a proper understanding of His Story, before we attempt to find our place in it?"

The Younger frowned as he did battle with the bacon on his plate, using the opportunity to do some thinking. "Well, I suspect you're still going to insist on orthopraxy needing to be held as strongly as orthodoxy. And I guess if we are thinking chicken-and-egg, then starting with orthopraxy would mean that we were reinterpreting theology based on our actions."

"And in the extreme, we could run the risk of allowing our praxis to dictate what we believe more than theology or doctrine," the Younger concluded, finally putting down his fork, conceding defeat to the contents of his plate. "Honestly, I'm not sure that that's such a bad thing, in practice. Dry doctrinal theology doesn't do much for anyone, as far as I can see."

"Exactly, exactly!" exclaimed the Elder, punctuating his words with swift gestures of his fork. "And what keeps theology from becoming dry and doctrinal? Orthopraxy, plain and simple. Faith in action. St. James would be proud of us, eh?", he grinned. "And let's be honest, using or allowing orthopraxy to dictate what we will believe is what we old-timers used to call 'proof-texting' -- making up your mind first, and then finding or making Scripture back it up."

"But at the same time, how do we know what praxis, what actions are truly what Jesus would have us do as we participate in the advancing Kingdom of God?" Before the Younger could reply, the Elder answered his own question, "Theology Proper: the study of God. We need a 'chastened epistomology', yes -- I'd be the first to breathe a sigh of relief to see it -- but we still need epistomology. We need to know how and why we believe a thing to be true. And that means the theo-chicken of theology does come first. Our understanding of the Kingdom, our understanding of the words and works of Jesus, our understanding of our participation in His Mission -- all flows out of our theology. Our praxis-eggs are completely, absolutely necessary -- but I don't believe they come first. Not for a second."

The Elder suddenly glanced around, setting his fork-baton carefully back onto the table, realizing how animated he had become. "Guess I got carried away with the chicken and egg metaphor, didn't I?", he observed sheepishly, as several nearby diners subtly shifted their chairs to create some distance.

"I'm tempted to make some kind of Dr. Seuss-inspired wisecrack right about now," smiled the Younger, "but I'd be afraid of mixing metaphors."

And then, as both noticed that the sun had risen and time had flown, they quickly settled the bill and prepared to leave. "One last thing," said the Younger, as he shrugged into his jacket, "next time, I'll pick the restaurant, agreed?"

The Elder spread his arms, nodding in acquiescence. "Can I pick the time?", he dead-panned as they headed into the street.

Dinner with Sam & Ella

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 02:07:00 +0000

Y'know, as someone who did not ever experiment with drugs, you'd think I would have no working knowledge of what hallucinations were. However, as I continue to recover from a whopping bout of salmonella these past two days, I think I can now relate to what people mean by "a bad trip"...

You see, I don't dream. Not at all. Or at least, it's extremely rare. As an adolescent, nightmares that would often turn into sci-fi short stories, but as an adult, I've only dreamt after taking Nyquil, which usually resulted in waking up with the feeling that I need demonic deliverance.

But after these past couple of days, I can attest to what a "bad trip" on hallucinogens must be like.

For the record, although I live in Mexico, the food that did me in was store-bought trail mix, which I purchased and ate in San Diego...

Sam and Ella will forever be unwelcome guests in my house.

Strange Fire, Holy Fire (Pre-release Review)

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 03:23:00 +0000

I have just finished reading a pre-release copy of Strange Fire, Holy Fire, with the descriptive subtitle: "Exploring the Highs and Lows of Your Charismatic Experience". The book was sent to me by Bethany House (ironically one of the publishing houses that turned Post-Charismatic down). It was an interesting and quick read, although because I received a pre-release copy, I am not allowed to quote anything until the final edition comes out.

The author, Michael J. Klassen, covers much of the same ground as I did in Post-Charismatic, although he spends a lot more time on the Word Faith/Prosperity movement, and not as much on the Shepherding Movement/New Apostolic Reformation.

I jokingly referred to the book at one point as "Post-Charismatic Lite", and several people who visit here regularly -- who have read both books -- agree that Strange Fire, Holy Fire is less in-depth but also suggest that this may make it more accessible for some readers.

When I was writing my own book, I deliberately purchased several CD's of worship music that reminded me of the good times in my own journey, and to keep me honest that, at one point, I once embraced some aspects of the charismatic world that I now distance myself from.

Micheal also has an admirable focus on calling his readers to remember their good times, and cautions against a wild pendulum swing to an opposite extreme. Where I used the phrase "functional cessationists" to describe post-charismatics who only give lip service to the ongoing ministry of the Spirit, Michael employs the term "functioning agnostics" -- basically, Michael and I are on the same page on many things, from the excesses and the damage caused, to our desire to see a more balanced approach to Spirit-led ministry.

At the same time, there were a couple of things that bothered me:

First is that Michael sees the New Apostolic Reformation as just another denominational accountability structure, suggesting that it may even be a genuine move of God. Partly this may be due to his admiration of C. Peter Wagner (whose books are also published by Bethany House), who was one of Michael's instructors during his time at Fuller, but regardless, I was very disappointed that the New Apostolic Reformation was downplayed as just another denominational structure.

Because it's simply not true: The New Apostolic Reformation is, in reality, the Shepherding Movement of the 70's and 80's reborn, complete with the same shoddy twisted Scripture foundation, and the same predictable results of controlling leadership and inevitable spiritual abuse. (Does anyone remember the "Apostolic Alignment" that Wagner engineered just before Todd Bentley's implosion? To jog the memory, Kingdom Grace has compiled the Apostolic double-talk.) I was perplexed at how easily Michael let the NAR off the hook, while (rightly) calling out the abuses of the Word Faith/Prosperity movement.

And this may sound like sour grapes, but in the first chapter of the book, Michael introduces his definition of "recovering charismatic", and mentions why he considered but rejected the term post-charismatic. Seems that Michael was concerned that Google was returning results that linked the phrase with the Hare Krishnas (which is true).

At the same time, for almost four years, the #1 Google search result for post-charismtic has been robbymac.org. While I don't expect Michael to give me free advertising in his own book, why mention the phrase post-charismatic at all if you have no intention of acknowledging the work already done under that title?

All that aside, it's an easy-to-read book from an well-established author who knows what he's talking about (as a former ghost-writer for some prominent televangelist-types), and while pointing out excesses, is gracious and firm in asserting the ongoing need for the supernatural and sometimes hard-to-explain work of the Holy Spirit.

Satan's Fetus

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Sat, 29 Nov 2008 16:00:00 +0000

This monstrosity concocted in the vile imaginings of the most sinister of minds has many names: Satan's Fetus being the most accurate, although it's also known as a Jerusalem Cricket or (believe it or not) a "potato bug". This is no bug and potatoes are completely irrelevant to the story. Whoever called this thing a "potato bug" needs to be slapped vigorously with a wet fish.

One of these Spawn Of The Evil One showed up in our patio area while Wendy & I were (yet again and somewhat futiley) attempting to persuade our new puppy that pooping outside is immeasurably preferable to, say, the carpet in our bedroom. The Creature From Nuclear Experimentation Gone Bad -- several inches long and butt-ugly -- crept noisily out of the darkness, and we discerned immediately it was a demonic presence.

Normal attempts at "casting it out" didn't seem to be bearing much fruit, so I looked up www.potatobug.com, and discovered the following perfectly rational and immensely practical advice on dealing with these six-legged nightmares:

"Drench your entire yard with gasoline and set it ablaze. Once the fire has burned itself out and the ground has cooled, cultivate the soil to a depth of seven feet, saturate the area with battery acid and top the surface with gasoline. After a few minutes, most of the surviving potato bugs, now irritated, will burrow up for air. Set the yard on fire again, and let it burn itself out. The remaining bugs should be crisped. Add water."

Since we don't actually have a yard, and setting concrete on fire didn't seem all that prudent, I just dropped a brick on The Thing.

But I had to STAND on the brick before it did any good, if you catch my meaning (crack-goosh).

This insectile abomination will now be added to my list of things that are in all likelihood a direct consequence of the Fall of Man in Genesis 3: brussel sprouts, mosquitos, country & western music, and now, potato bugs.

25th Dating Anniverary

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 05:13:00 +0000

It was this month, 25 years ago, that I spoke tentatively and awkwardly to one of the most beautiful girls on our college campus, and our friendship morphed into a romantic relationship, and 18 months later, marriage.

I can't imagine life without her these past 25 years. Wendy is an incredible wife, lover, friend, confidant, encourager, mother, artist, and spiritual journeymate. I'm glad I finally worked up the nerve to ask her out, and even more so that she said yes.

And we're still dating!

Jekyll & Hyde?

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 05:38:00 +0000

Brother Maynard posted recently about the "Textualizer", which analyzes a blog for its personality style a la Meyers-Briggs. In Bro. Maynard's case, his blog is apparently channelling a different personality that Brother Maynard himself. (This may be at least partially due to him blogging under an assumed name that may be developing a persona all on its own.)

So, I tried the Textualizer, and got the following:

I think I'd respond this analysis by saying, "yeah, maybe a little, sometimes, a bit, I guess..."

Those of you who know me, either in the analog world or as regular visitors here, does this sound like me?

(Further ponderings: Since I'm unaware of my actual Meyers-Briggs scores, I'm not sure if my blog and I are developing dissociative disorder or not.)

Irony & Davey Jones' Locker

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 16:00:00 +0000

Pintel (menacingly): "The last we saw of ol' Bill Turner, he was sinking to the crushing black oblivion of Davy Jones' Locker."

(more thoughtfully) "Course it was only after that we learned we needed his blood to lift the curse."

Ragetti (subdued): "That's what you'd call ironic."

From DashHouse:

(Leonard) Sweet became a popular Church Historian/Futurist in the early days of the Emergent/Emerging Church and, in many ways, encouraged the “Emergent Turn.”

Recently, it should be noted here that Sweet offered the criticism that the “turn” may have gone too far with Emergent. So far, he asserts—rather than reach back into 2000 years of Church history, Emergent stopped at the “liberal turn” wherein the Gospel became all social and no gospel. Sweet emailed me:

"The emerging church has become another form of social gospel. And the problem with every social gospel is that it becomes all social and no gospel. All social justice and no social gospel. It is embarrassing that evangelicals have discovered and embraced liberation theology after it destroyed the main line, old line, side line, off line, flat line church."

(Iron - E. Get it?)

People have been tossing around the "liberal label" in the direction of Emergent™ ever since critics first heard the word "postmodern". And as many charismatics attempt to shush their critics with bumper-sticker jargon like "you're too religious", the standard reply to the liberal label has been a similar "shut up" line, usually to the effect of "you're still trapped in modernism".

It's been intriguing to see people who were "big names" in the emerging conversation ten years ago now applying the assessment of Emergent™ just being good, old-fashioned theologically liberal. Mark Driscoll's bizarre form of zealotry (linking pastoral adultery to fat lazy pastor's wives, and declaring that stay-at-home dads should be brought under church discipline) made it fairly easy to write off his comments about Emergent™=Liberal, but Len Sweet is a different matter.

Just suppose, for a second, that they're all correct; that Emergent™ is just Liberalism with a new marketing campaign. Theological Liberalism came out of the "higher criticism" of theologians in the late 1800's, and really came into its hey-day during the early part of the 20th century. The whole controversy between theological liberals and the early "fundamentalists" was one of the big dividing lines in the church of the first half of the 20th century.

So, where's the irony, you say? It's simply this:

IF liberal theology is one of the last theological developments of modernity, and
IF Emergent™ really is the new face of theological liberalism,
THEN Emergent™ is trapped in the theology of modernism.

Davey Jones' Locker may or may not apply, but if Emergent™ is actually stuck in modernism, then I'd have to agree with Ragetti: "That's what you'd call ironic."

Too Close For Comfort

noreply@blogger.com (Robbymac) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 05:37:00 +0000

This is the normal view we have from our front porch here in Mexico. However hot it may get, or despite once finding a scorpion in our bedroom, the view is breath-taking. Sunsets over the ocean are always a source of awe and appreciation.

This is the sight that greeted us this morning, as another YWAM staff member radio'd us to warn us that a wildfire had begun just a mile away. The notorious "Santa Ana" winds -- hot and strong every fall -- are causing a lot of problems near Los Angeles, and now also right next to us, here in Tijuana. A number of YWAM staff families live right around us, and we were all instructed to pack up our cars and be ready to high-tail it outta there at a moment's notice.

Apparently, the flames could be seen as far away as San Diego, but all we could see was this mountain of smoke. With no electrical power all day, we had no way of keeping track via television or online sources -- just our Nextel radio (basically, a "walkie-talkie"). But the local fire department was able to contain the blaze, and last we heard, only one building was lost.

It's interesting, in hindsight, as you quickly pack up a small Mazda hatchback with a family of four, two cats, and a dog -- to realize that there just isn't much room left for personal stuff. And, in that moment, you realize all over again that "stuff" just doesn't really matter.

And by la cena (supper), we had gone back to the "normal" view from our front porch, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened all day. Except perhaps that our usual reaction of appreciation for the beauty of the sunset was a wee bit more heart-felt than ever.