Most of the time when we come across some “vintage” Christian music, it’s just a single song.

In this case, however, you get an entire mini concert!

So, if the first song from The Swilley Family Band doesn’t do it for you, just wait. There’s bound to be at least one song that’s not completely terrible.

And don’t forget to stay around for the end of the show for details about how you can pick up their album, available now on 8-track for only $6!!

So you really do learn something new everyday.

Yesterday, I learned about the practice of not saying the word “alleluia” during Lent.

I’ve been in the church my entire life, but this is something I’ve never heard of before. That’s probably due in large part to the fact that I grew up in a tradition that is not historically very liturgical or sacramental. So, something like this wouldn’t “fit” well in most of the churches in my tradition.

Not wanting to be the only person in church who didn’t know what was going on when the children’s pastor “buried” a piece of paper with the word “alleluia” written on it in an ornate box, I just smiled and went along for the ride as if I knew exactly what was happening.

As it turns out this burying of the alleluia is a practice that dates back to at least the 5th century. Lent is a time of penitence, of remembering our sinful nature and the great sacrifice that brought about our redemption. Traditionally, this time of sober preparation is not a time to celebrate. By not using celebratory words like “alleluia” during Lent, we allow the rejoicing on Easter Sunday to be the paradigm shifting moment of celebration it truly is.

So, for the next 35 days, “alleluia” is a no no word.

You know about no no words. We learn about them when we’re kids and come home, repeat something we heard at school, and then get reamed out by our parents for saying a no no word.

The FCC has a list of no no words too. That list has evolved over the years, but say the wrong thing on TV and they’ll either bleep you out or fine you.

Even the church has no no words, topics or issues that are not supposed to be talked about amongst good, God fearing people:  suicide, porn, anger, latent racism, abuse, bigotry and misogyny, gluttony, the sex trade, eating disorders. And of course there are people with “issues” we’d rather not talk to or about: homosexuals, the depressed, people we hate or resent, the divorced, people of a different political party, those who have sinned publicly, the working poor.

We prefer our Christianity to be nice and easy and our churches to be pretty and clean. These sorts of issues and those sorts of people prevent us from living out our grand illusion. So, we ignore them in hopes that they’ll simply go away, letting us continue on in our blissful ignorance free from the burden of dealing with other people’s problems.

As creatures made in the image of a Creator who spoke creation into existence, I think we fear that we might echo this creative act when we speak about no no subjects. We fear, or know, that by talking about things we give them life and thus have to confront and wrestle with them.

This can be (and often is) a brutally painful process, which is exactly why these things became no no subjects in the first place. By not speaking about them, we ignore them, deprive them of life, and convince (or deceive) ourselves into thinking that we’ll never have to deal with them because they don’t exist. But of course they do exist. Ignoring them only delays the inevitable confrontation with our source of awkwardness, discomfort, and pain.

Despite our best efforts however, eventually everything that is kept in the dark will find its way into the light. Eventually everything will be spoken back into existence. Eventually we will have to deal with the things and the people we try so desperately to avoid.

So, we need to find a way to stop pretending as if there are not difficult, messy issues that good, Christian people must address. Only by doing so can we begin to do the arduous work of healing, reconciliation, and redemption. When we do this we are truly embodying the image of our Creature who brought about new life through the ordering of chaos.

Likewise, by being proactive about these taboo subjects we have a better chance of addressing them effectively and to some extent on our own terms, rather than being blindsided by them at the worst possible moment. By speaking our pain, discomfort, and awkward tension into existence we bring it into the Light and allow God the chance to do what God does best: heal our pain, end our suffering, and mend our broken relationships.

There should be “no no words”. At least in the sense that we should never speak words that tear other people down. However, we should also find the integrity to wrestle with the challenges that face us and, by through the grace of God, the courage to speak about the pain that haunts us. Such efforts are restorative, holy acts. In participating in these redemptive acts, we find hope for genuine healing and the promise of a future worth living in.

So during Lent this year, make an effort to talk about the no no words in your life. Refuse to let them continue to fester in your life. Speak them into existence so that they can be brought into the Light and redeemed. Face those issues and those people you fear with courage, grace, and humility, allowing the Spirit to heal you both. Then, when Easter morning comes around you will find yourself in a place where you can truly begin to celebrate resurrection and new life for those things will have become your reality.

Grace and peace,

Zack Hunt

The following is a guest post by our new friend Matt Barber, who’s worked on shows like Chuck and The O.C. as well as several music videos and many other projects. He’s currently working on a fascinating new film that looks at evangelicalism’s teachings about sexuality. After you read his post, make sure you check out the film’s website and find out how you can make help turn this film into a reality.

As a young Christian I was taught to preserve my virginity, avoid masturbation, and flee lust at all costs—for me, sexual purity equaled salvation; yet, I couldn’t bear the idea of going through life devoid of the experience of sexual pleasure.

Like most teenagers, adulthood (and marriage) seemed like an eternity away. It felt so distant that my evangelical soul was certain our Lord and Savior would whisk me away to heaven before I was able to even begin courting a female. And so, with burning tension, my 13 year-old self sat down on the brick flowerbed in front of his house, turned his eyes to heaven and earnestly prayed, “Jesus, don’t let me die before I’ve had sex!”

As the days and weeks progressed towards the inevitable end of my sexless life, purity before marriage was constantly reinforced: I was warned of the slippery slope of “make out” sessions, I sat through testimonies of women who had allowed themselves to get pregnant before marriage and I read books highlighting the threat that premarital fornication posed to my immortal soul. At the same time, sex was being elevated higher and higher on my pantheon of human experiences—reinforced by the culture, my friends and even my church. I recall one sermon where my pastor pulled an article from a newspaper and read the headline, “Studies show married couples tend to have better sex,” or something to that effect. The narrative being constructed was sex is dirty before marriage—however, after you say “I do” it’s an amazing, transformative experience. The flood gates open, sparks fly and the burning in your soul is quenched. That is what I believed.

I escaped singlehood relatively unscathed having only stumbled my way to second base (I fled any opportunity to go further.) Right before my 22^ND birthday, when I thought my life as a celibate monk was surely sealed, I met a beautiful woman that rocked me to my core; I had met my soulmate. We dated for about 6 months, at which point I brought up marriage. She was hesitant to rush in—and she wanted nothing more than to spend her life with me. She made me promise that I would wait to propose until after our one-year anniversary. I complied by asking for her hand on the 366^th day of our courtship. Once her surprise and amusement subsided, she said “Yes!” and we were engaged. My 13 year-old self leapt for joy. Soon, I was going to be having sex. Real, live, sex.

Imagine the surprise on my wedding night—after I had finally obtained the prize I had obsessed over—when I realized I felt like the same person.

“Where were the fireworks?”

“Why didn’t anything click inside me?”

“When does the ‘two become one flesh’ feeling happen?”

“Why, Jesus, didn’t I feel complete?”

Don’t get me wrong, many aspects of my wedding experience were great—but the reality of twenty-three years of false expectations hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m still married to the same woman. We’ve had our ups and downs, built a wonderful home together, and the sex has gotten much better (for your information, it takes practice). But I couldn’t forget the feeling that I was misled in some way.

A few years ago, I told my story to some friends who had also grown up in the Evangelical Church. They, in turn, told me their stories. I was struck by how similar the sexual message from our churches were, how closely our expectations lined up and how we prayed the exact same prayer as teenagers.

Exactly. The. Same. Prayer.

I thought I had been the only one. So, I started talking to more of my fellow Christians and many had similar experiences and prayed some form of that prayer. I listened to person after person tell me stories I had never heard in church. These experiences weren’t being shared because they didn’t feel safe talking about it in that setting. I realized something wasn’t right.

Adding to all this is the never ceasing, vitriolic sexual debate that our society is trapped in: the hows, whens, and whys people are allowed to have sex, use birth control, and get married. And the church is always at the center. I felt I needed to enter the fray, to add my voice to the debate, and to say “things have got to change.”  But I’m not a politician. I’m not a pastor. I’m a filmmaker. I’ve worked in television for years as an editor and a director (most recently on NBC’s Chuck). My greatest talent is telling stories.

And so, I’ve embarked on a documentary project to examine what is going on; to analyze the disconnect between what is taught and what is practiced in the church. The title of my film is, you guessed it, Jesus, Don’t Let Me Die Before I’ve Had Sex. Along with my producers Chris Pack and Brittany Machado, we are entering this delicate conversation in the best way we know how—with an ear to all sides. In the tradition of Ira Glass’ This American Life, Alexander Payne’s Citizen Ruth, and Jimmy Carter’s Camp David peace accords we want to hear from everyone: single, married, gay, straight, divorced, chaste, and promiscuous. We want to hear the pains, the joys, the frustrations, the hopes, and the fears. And we want to provide a safe forum in which to do so.

We believe it’s of the utmost importance to talk about these things, not in a black-and-white, dogmatic way—but openly, honestly, and lovingly. It’s not our goal to judge, but to reflect back what is really going on in the lives of laity; hopefully, we’ll help to steer the discussion in our Churches, our political debates, and our daily lives in a healthy direction.

Please check out our Kickstarter video below and then visit our website for more information and to see some clips of interviews we’ve already conducted.

This is spot on and pretty hilarious.

Enjoy….

Thanks to Charlie for sending this to us!

As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.

Today is Ash Wednesday.

It’s the day millions of Christians across the world begin a 40 day season of preparation for Easter. Or as some of the students in my youth group will tell you, it’s the day we go to church and get dirt rubbed on our faces.

I love any good church service, but I think Ash Wednesday may be one of my favorites. The ritual of burning the palm leaves from the previous Easter and using their ashes to make a cross on believers’ foreheads is wonderful, but I like what happens afterwards even more.

For some reason, I’ve had the habit of going to the grocery store after church on Ash Wednesday for the past several years. It’s an unintentional tradition, but I would encourage you to try it out this year. If you do, you will be witness to a strange and wonderful phenomenon, at least if you’re in an area like mine.

The grocery store that was once a crowded mass of strangers suddenly takes on the feel of a family gathering, if only for a fleeting moment, as people with ashes on their foreheads walk past each other, smile, and say hello.

There’s no talk about denominations or doctrinal differences or anything of the sort. Instead, those dirty smudges remind us of our common bonds: we are all made from the same ashes and we all worship the same Lord. In that briefest of moments we are one people undivided by theological tradition.

So it got me thinking, what if in addition to all of the personal perpetration that has come to define the Lenten season, we also took this unique moment of unity to seek out opportunities to work together, cross denominatinoal boundaries, and try to live as if we are actually one Body?

What would happen?

Maybe there would be less infighting in the family of God and more love. Maybe people of different traditions would start looking for opportunities to work together, instead of chances to tear one another down. Maybe there would no longer be a need for 8 churches on 1 block. Maybe if we all began to live as if the kingdom of God had begun to dawn, the rest of the world would flock to our doors instead of running the opposite direction. Maybe if we remembered that unity doesn’t require conformity, we could actually be the Church.

Obviously, the fracturing of the Church would not change over night, but what if we began to take advantage of these unifying moments in the life of the Church? What if in these moments where we’re already doing the same things, saying the same things, acting the same way we allowed those things to begin to bridge the theological gaps that divide us? What if something as simple as a dirty forehead ceased to be  a mere decoration and instead became a means of grace through which we finally rediscover the ability to be one Body?

What if?

Grace and peace,

Zack Hunt

Apparently this is one of Bill Clinton’s favorite songs.

I would have to assume that it is also Tim Tebow’s favorite song.

Actual lyrics…

Dropkick me Jesus through the goalposts of life
End over end, neither left nor the right
Straight through the heart and them righteous uprights
Dropkick me Jesus through the goalposts of life

Thank you Lord for the gift of American Christianity.

Did you ever see Slumdog Millionaire?

It’s the Oscar winning film about a teenager from the Dhavari slum of Mumbai, India that  (SPOILER ALERT) miraculously wins the Indian version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?.

Well, this weekend the National Geographic Channel ran a special called The Real Slumdogs. (Yes, I watch a lot of the National Geographic Channel.) The documentary is an indepth look at the real residents of the Dhavari slum featured in the movie.

In a lot of ways, Dhavari was much like what you would expect. People live in utter poverty. Homes are barely standing shacks pieced together with whatever debris happens to be laying around. There is virtually no running water, electricity is almost non-existent, and sewage runs openly in the streets. In Dhavari, people make a living by any means necessary, including rummaging through the dump, separating out recycable plastic so that they can make a whopping $5 a day.

But there are a lot of other things present in Dhavari that I was not expecting.

Despite what most of us on the outside might assume, Dhavari is a place full of hope, determination, compassion, grace, and an incredible will to survive. Just beneath the surface is a community of people who look after and take care of one another. It is a community which despite its circumstances is full of hope for the future.

In particular, the show highlighted a young mother who works incredibly hard to put her daughter through school. Even though her days are spent endlessly sorting out plastic from the trash, this mother still takes time to volunteer for a group called the Acorn Foundation which seeks to improve the lives of the residents of Dhavari. Ignoring the criticism of her mother who constantly chastises her for wasting time on something that doesn’t earn her any money, this woman choses a life of self-sacrifice, devoting herself both to her daughter’s future as well as helping those around her meet their most basic needs for survival.

As I was watching this woman extend hope and grace to her neighbors, and as I witnessed some of those same neighbors also going out of their way to ensure that new members of the community had food to eat, water to drink, and clothes to wear, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “This looks really familiar.”

It looks a lot like Jesus.

When we in the Church talk about incarnating or being Jesus to the world, these are the very sorts of things we talk about. These are the sorts of things Jesus command us to do over and over again. You don’t get much more “Christlike” than loving, serving, and caring for your neighbors. Simply put, selfless devotion to others is at the heart of the gospel.

Which made me think, “What do we do when the embodient of Jesus is present, but the people through whom he is incarnated neither speak the name of Jesus nor claim him as Lord?”

In other words, how should the Church react when a form of Jesus is present somewhere, even though Jesus isn’t formally present through either the church or professing Christians?

It seems to me that this is one of the great questions facing the Church in an ever increasingly connected 21st century global society. What are we do to when we encounter the kingdom of God being lived out among people who have either never heard of or choose to ignore the Church’s gospel?

Some of us may be quick to dismiss this as an aberration or simply ignore it. However, with evangelicalism’s emphasis on being the sole source of truth and goodness in the world, I think the evangelical church, in particular, must address this issue in an open and honest manner.

Now, we could simply label these sorts of actions as “mere” good deeds and ignore them. That is exactly what many of us do. When we put all the emphasis of the gospel on “faith alone”, then perhaps this is possible since in that scenario good deeds are functionally irrelevant.

However, those in the neo-Reformed or Calvinist camp are always quick to emphasize our complete and total depravity. If that is true, and these people haven’t “come to Jesus” and received the redemption necessary to embody the gospel, then where does this ability to do good come from? In light of total depravity it can’t come from within. It must come from an outside source. Since Jesus isn’t present in this paradigm because these people have not “confessed him with their lips”, then the only other outside source would be the guy with horns and a pitch fork.

But clearly the devil doesn’t do good things. To suggest otherwise, that the devil is empowering people to embody the gospel as part of some bizarre scheme to lead people astray by doing the very things Jesus wanted them to do, is a form of theological gymnastics that I’m just not capable of.

So, that leaves us with only one option. The power to do these good things, the power to embody the gospel even in a partial way can only come from God.

If that is the case and these sorts of good things can only come from God, then I think we should be asking ourselves “What does it mean for the church that God is at work in these people apart from their “knowing Jesus” in the formal sense.” At the very least, we should pause to ask “Is God trying to tell us something?”

I think that God is.

Now, there are many of us in the church who have reacted to this very sort of situation and gone the complete opposite direction of traditional evangelicalism, seeking to replace orthodoxy with orthopraxy. In others, this group would want to define “Christian” more by what we do or the community we help to create than what we confess with our lips.

I think that there is certainly some validity here. However, despite my love for passages like Matthew 25, I’m not sure that in the end this is a healthy move. Confession is formative. It shapes both we are and who we are not. It is our rule of faith that guides our lives. It is incredibly important and should not be altogether abandoned.

Yet, while confession certainly shapes the community, as we become more interconnected and witness Jesus in places where no one talks or thinks about Jesus we need to remember that the first disciples followed Jesus before they knew who he really was. They were disciples before they ever confessed him as Lord.

Confession eventually came, and it was a much needed source of direction for the early church, but the first disciples are testament to the fact that sometimes we learn to live the “right” life before we learn to say and think the “right” things.

More often than not, however, evangelicalism is more concerned with verbal confession and intellectual ascent than establishing the kingdom of God. We are more concerned with being “right” than doing the work of redemption and reconciliation. In short, evangelicalism has become so obsessed with being “right” that we’ve forgotten what we need to be “right” about. Doctrine and confession are important, but ultimately the gospel is primarily concerned with a “right” way of living in the world. This is why the book of Revelation is dedicated to describing a new heaven and a new earth, not a new systematic theology.

That being said, I do not think this should be a battle between a confessional and a communal faith. I do not believe that we need to make a choice. Rather, we need to learn make more space in our theology and practice for people who “come to the faith” by embodying the faith before they ever verbally confess their allegiance to our community. If we are going to talk about incarnating Jesus to the world, if we are going to speak about “kingdom life” as something that involves things like grace, hope, love, self-sacrifice, and caring for one another, then we must be honest when we see it outside the church and name it for what it is: the kingdom of God breaking in to the world around us.

I want to be clear, I am not calling for universalism. I believe that there are some major, irreconcilable ontological (and in many cases teleological) differences in the world’s great religions. To simply brush aside these differences is ignorant, arrogant, and disrespectful of each tradition.

I simply want to raise the question: What do we do when we see the presence of Jesus, but no one is claiming his name? I’m not sure I have the answer to that question. But if I could suggest anything, it would be that we as the 21st century church should learn to do a better job of recognizing and embracing what John Wesley called “prevenient grace”. For Wesley, God is at work in the world, reconciling creation long before we ever recognize God’s activity (if we ever do). In other words, neither the Church nor a formal confession of faith in Jesus need be present for God to be at work in someone’s life. For us as Christians, this should be a humbling reminder that though we may often be the vehicle of God’s grace and activity in the world, we are not it’s source.

If we can learn to embrace the idea of prevenient grace, then I think we will be able to find a way to affirm the work of God as something which can be authentically carried out through people who do not claim the name of Jesus. In doing so, we will be able to maintain both our orthodoxy and orthopraxy.

Let me close with a story from one my favorite books by one of my favorite authors. In The Last Battle, C.S. Lewis describes a scene where the faithful followers of Aslan (aka God) are walking around the new Narnia (aka. new earth) when they encounter one of the last people they ever expected to see, a Calormene soldier named Emeth. This young man was a devote follower of the false god Tash, so the loyal followers of Aslan were shocked to see someone like him in paradise. Emeth was just as shocked. When he eventually has his encounter with Aslan, he reminds the great lion, “I am no son of thine, but the servant of Tash.” It is then that we read one of the most theologically dense passages in all of children’s literature,

“[Aslan] answered, Child, all the service thou hast done to Tash, I account as service done to me. Then by reasons of my great desire for wisdom and understanding, I overcame my fear and questioned the Glorious One and said, Lord, is it then true, as the Ape said, that thou and Tash are one? The Lion growled so that the earth shook (but his wrath was not against me) and said, It is false. Not because he and I are one, but because we are opposites, I take to me the services which thou hast done to him. For I and he are of such different kinds that no service which is vile can be done to me, and none which is not vile can be done to him. Therefore if any man swear by Tash and keep his oath for the oath’s sake, it is by me that he had truly sworn, though he know it not, and it is I who reward him. And if any man do a cruelty in my name, then, though he says the name Aslan, it is Tash whom he serves and by Tash his deed is accepted. Dost thou understand, Child? I said, Lord, thou knowest how much I understand. But I said also (for the truth constrained me), Yet I have been seeking Tash all my days. Beloved, said the Glorious One, unless thy desire had been for me thou wouldst not have sought so long and so truly. For all find what they truly seek.”

While this is merely C.S. Lewis’ personal theological speculation and not the gospel, we do see this sort of prophetic hope echoed in the book of Isaiah. In the 19th chapter, God tells of God’s plan to redeem and restore two of Israel’s arch enemies, Egypt and Assyria. One day God will look at these “pagan” nations and say “Blessed be Egypt my people, Assyria my handiwork, and Israel my inheritance.”

It’s important to point out that this comes about after their redemption and restoration, not before it. But it is equally important to pay attention to the fact that God does not abandon people as quickly and definitively as we do. Neither does God seem to be as interested in only doing the work of redemption through God’s chosen people. What we see in this passage is repeated throughout the Bible in stories about a priestly king named Melchizedek, a pagan prostitute named Rahab, a Moabite woman named Ruth, a Roman centurion who simply had faith, a Samaritan woman sitting by a well, and a whole host of Gentiles who brought the kingdom of God to the very ends of the earth.

Once again, I do not subscribe to the notion that “all religions are different paths to the same God.” I simply want to give God the credit for working in the world and being faithful to God’s promise to redeem all of creation. How God chooses to do that is not something we are in a place to criticize. So, when we do encounter Jesus in places where we think Jesus isn’t present, let us embrace it, celebrate it, and find ways to participate in it that are faithful to our calling to be the church in and for the world.

God is at work in the world whether we are there or not, and that is a very good thing.

Grace and peace,

Zack Hunt

I received some great news yesterday.

I’ve been accepted into Yale Divinity School!

I’m humbled, excited, proud, nervous, and just about everything in between.

But there’s a catch.

Whether or not I am actually able to attend Yale, or any other school that I’ve applied for, is entirely dependent upon where my wife “matches” for her residency. This May my wife will graduate from medical school, which is awesome and I’m incredibly proud of her. However, that’s just half the battle. After med school, all doctors must do time in residency before their medical training is complete. Unfortunately, the residency process is not as simple as just applying for an open position at a hospital of your choice.

Medical students must first apply to dozens of hospitals, some of which will grant them an interview. After the interviews are done, students rank those hospitals based on which ones they would like to attend most. The hospitals also rank the students based on who they want to be in their program. Then comes the really fun part: a computer “matches” every student in the country to a particular hospital.

This isn’t an immediate process. In began last September and will not end until this spring.

All medical students this year (except those in really competitive fields such as urology and ophthalmology who find out “early”) will find out where they go at the same time: March 16th. At 12pm that day my wife, along with thousands of other people, will open up the envelope that will quite literally reveal our future. We could end up any in of a dozen spots from Connecticut, to South Carolina, to California, and many other places in between. The envelope will tell us what to do.

It’s surreal.

Although, that’s not to say I would not have liked a few envelopes in the past to tell me what to do with my future. Instead of having to decide on my own what college to go to, or what career to pursue, or where to live, wouldn’t things have just been easier if I could have opened up an envelope to tell me what to do, who to be, where to go, or even what meal to eat when I can’t decide between steak or seafood?

Sure, that might take “free will” out of the equation, but it would keep me from doing the “wrong” thing.

Of course, there are almost never envelopes waiting to be opened which will tell us which decision we “should” make. But that doesn’t stop us from looking for them. And it doesn’t keep us from becoming enslaved to them either.

How do you become enslaved to imaginary fortune telling envelopes? It’s actually quite easy. Many of us do it without it even realizing it, especially if we are people of faith.

As Christians we may not have “envelopes”, but we do have something far more powerful: God’s will.

For many of us, God’s will is a predetermined plan for our lives. For many of us, God has already written the story of our lives, making all of our decisions for us in advance. It is simply our job to figure out what that will, or plan, is and follow it. In other words, we need to find the envelopes God has left for us and follow their directions.

Here’s the catch…….there are no envelopes.

It makes for a nice narrative. It fits well within theological systems which demand that God is in control of absolute everything at all times, having already predetermined everything. However, this sort of theology undermines the very foundation of the Christian faith.

When we look at the cross we see a God who has given up control. Period.

Either God gave up control and allowed humanity to murder Jesus, or what we are witnessing is either an act of patricide, suicide, or both; neither of which are theologically tenable.

That act of kenosis, or giving up, would be frightening and probably cause to abandon faith in God if the story stopped there, but it doesn’t. We when continue on to Easter morning we see a God who is ultimately in control, but who is willing to give up some of that control for the sake of God’s creation.

This should have a profound impact on our understanding of God, the future, and how we are called to live our lives.

If the Biblical narrative teaches us anything, it’s that the people of God are in a dynamic relationship with their God. They are not mere robots responding to the push of a divine button. There are countless times with they reject the commands of God. If they weren’t free to do this, and it was in fact God who forced them to do this, then they could not be held accountable and God would be both the author of sin and the source of evil.

Instead, we see a God who chooses to journey with God’s people. God certainly goes before them leading the way, but God is not standing at the finish line waiting for them to find envelopes scattered along the way which will show us the “right” path.

God journeys with us.

God gives us the power, ability, and responsibility to make our own decisions. God allows us to decide where we want to live, who we want to marry, what job we want to have, or even what color car we want to buy. God does not force anything upon us. Even when God “calls” us to something particular, God does not force us to “answer”. Instead, God has chosen to work through us, rather than work above or before us predetermining all of life. If that were the case, then “life” would be nothing more than a grand illusion, a divine joke.

That’s not to say that God does not have a “will” or a “plan” for our lives, but we must be very clear about what that means. God does not have a unique will for each of our lives because God has not predetermined every moment of our lives. God’s will is the same for all of us: God wants us to be in a loving relationship with God so that we can participate in God’s redemption of all things.

Likewise, God does have a “plan” for each of us, but it is not a mystery we need to unravel or an envelope we need to find and open. We all have gifts, talents, abilities, and passions. If we believe that God created us, then there is only one place from which those gifts could have been given, there is only one source of our talent and (healthy) passions: God. God gave us the talent to do the things we do well and the passion to do them. God gave us these gifts and passions because God wants us to use them. When we do that, when we use our gifts for the kingdom of God, then we are doing the “will” of God, we are living out God’

In other words, God’s will or plan for our lives should be a source of freedom and fulfillment, not life draining enslavement. If you want to be a teacher, teach. If you want to be a musician, play your music. If you want to go into business, go into business. If you want to be a plumber, be a plumber. But do it all for the glory of God and you will find yourself right smack in the center of God’s will for your life.

We don’t have to fret and worry about choosing the “wrong” path, because there is no “wrong” path, at least in the sense an occupation or college or place to live where God cannot accomplish God’s redemptive work. It is here where we can really see the amazing grace of God at work. Regardless of where we choose to go or what we choose to do, God can and does work through us, even when we make mistakes.

There may be no fortune telling envelopes to open, but that’s a good thing.

Because we don’t know what lies around each corner we must be prepared for anything. This preparation forms us into to better people, matures our character, and enables us to answer the call to be ready “both in season and out of season.” Not knowing and then having to make decisions as life unfolds allows to be active participants in our own lives, rather than lazy robots waiting for God to push a divine button. God created us and gave us wonderful gifts, talents, and passions because God wants to see what we can do with them. Like any parent, God is waiting to see what we become. He has the same ultimate plan for all of us, but the in between time is wide open.

So use the gifts and passions  God has given you for the kingdom of God. Direct them in such a way that they become redemptive work and you will not have to worry about whether what you are doing is the “will of God” or “God’s plan of your life” because you will be dwelling in God’s presence. God’s heart will become your heart, God’s mind your mind and you will be the person God created you to be, living the life you were “supposed” to live.

I don’t know what that envelope will say on March 16 when my wife opens it. But I do know that God has journey with us in the past, preparing the way when we moved to Memphis five years ago. And because He has journeyed with us before and has promised to do so again, I have no doubt that God will be with us no matter where we go. And no matter what we choose to do, if we do it in service to the kingdom of God, then we will be right smack in the middle of God’s will for our lives.

Grace and peace,

Zack Hunt 

It’s been a while since we’ve posted anything from our old friend William Tapley, aka The Third Eagle of The Apocalypse.

Apparently his appearances on Anderson Cooper’s Ridiculist and The Colbert Report tempered someone of his trademark zaniness.

That’s not to say he hasn’t posted anything in the post couple of months, it just hasn’t reached that level of prophetic crazy needed to justify a post.

Well, The Third Eagle seems to have gotten his grove back.

In this enlightening video we learn about the “numerical significance” of Whitney Houston’s death. That’s right. Whitney Huston’s death was “a warning from Almighty God to the United States of America and to our President Barack Obama.”

Mr. Tapley is “convinced that God took Whitney Houston at a particular time to give us a warning;” meaning that all the numbers surrounding her death, her age, birthday, death date, etc. have prophetic significance.

Of course they do. Why didn’t TMZ see that?!

So, what is God warning about?

Well, you’ll just have to watch and find out. We wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise for you.

But, you can assume that Houston’s death has something to do with World War III, the end of America, and the death of the Catholic church.

We’ve given away too much already, so just sit back, relax, and enjoy your ride on the crazy train….

I’ve wondered for a long time why faith healings don’t always work.

Thank you Pat Robertson for finally explaining it to me.