Do I Love the Church?

As you therefore have received Christ Jesus the Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.

See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the universe, and not according to Christ. For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have come to fullness in him, who is the head of every ruler and authority. In him also you were circumcised with a spiritual circumcision, by putting off the body of the flesh in the circumcision of Christ; when you were buried with him in baptism, you were also raised with him through faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead. And when you were dead in trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made you alive together with him, when he forgave us all our trespasses, erasing the record that stood against us with its legal demands. He set this aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and made a public example of them, triumphing over them in it.

Therefore do not let anyone condemn you in matters of food and drink or of observing festivals, new moons, or sabbaths. These are only a shadow of what is to come, but the substance belongs to Christ. Do not let anyone disqualify you, insisting on self-abasement and worship of angels, dwelling on visions, puffed up without cause by a human way of thinking, and not holding fast to the head, from whom the whole body, nourished and held together by its ligaments and sinews, grows with a growth that is from God.

If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the universe, why do you live as if you still belonged to the world? Why do you submit to regulations, ‘Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch’? All these regulations refer to things that perish with use; they are simply human commands and teachings. These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-imposed piety, humility, and severe treatment of the body, but they are of no value in checking self-indulgence. - Colossians 2:6-23


The past few years have been especially challenging for my relationship with Christianity. I must admit that I often fail to see the Jesus referenced in Colossians in the churches of North America (where I live). I cannot count the number of times I've heard some variation of "Do not handle; Do not taste; Do not touch" under the guise of "protection from sin." I cannot count the number of times I've heard Plato's philosophical musings indirectly referenced by Christian leaders as being essential elements of the faith, instead of - as Paul uses them here - as a familiar, contemporary way of speaking that helps us understand the difference between Jesus and the "world" (world=religion/belief-based living).

And I wonder if what we call the "church" in North America is actually preaching Jesus, or the 'elemental spirits of this world.'

Consider this: Much of our time as Christians seems to be spent determining who exactly is "in" and who exactly is "out." We assume that those 'elemental spirits of this world (church)' are the opposite of our belief-based understanding, and therefore we can accurately determine who is "in" and "out" based on ourselves; if you disagree with me you're out.

But this is exactly the opposite of what Jesus did as recorded in the Gospels.

In fact, he made an explicit point to refute the attempts of his disciples and opponents who tried to determine that very thing. The out was in and the in was - out? Was it? Jesus never actually says that. Interestingly enough, he said that he was the "in," and anybody was in if they went in by/with/through/over/in him.

Church seems to be the opposite of that - while saying exactly that.

 This is because we (church) still see the world as some sort of dualistic binary. There is in and out, good and evil, rich and poor, slave and free, male and female, us and them. And so we think we need some sort of filter to determine who gets to be "us" and not "them."

And this makes me mad. It makes me want to quit this whole church thing.

Because I am less and less convinced that church in North America is effectively doing what Jesus said to do and did himself. Each day I see a starker and starker contrast between the good news of God's cosmic and ongoing work of creation and healing and the organization that claims to be the gatekeeper of participation with that work.

And I find it harder and harder to love the church.

And this is where I, too, fail to follow Jesus. I want the church to be wrong. I want Jesus to tell them - those who tell others - to "depart from me for I never knew you." I don't want to love them anymore. I see all the pain and all the hatred and all the destruction and I, like Pilate, want to wash my hands of it.

And I see how I am them.

I am the same as those who I do not want to love. I want "them" to be on the outside. I am still a part of it. Can I love like I think Jesus loves - without condition, without condemnation? Without wanting there to be a "them?"

Book Review: The Divine Magician by Peter Rollins

Peter Rollins’ new book, The Divine Magician: The Disappearance of Religion and the Discovery of Faith, is a provocative theological reflection, and to my mind is Rollins’ best work yet.

The book picks up where his previous work, The Idolatry of God, ended by reiterating that the meaning-laden concept of “God” can actually be the very thing that the bible and Christianity in general prohibits. While there are a few basic re-treads from that work, one that is of particular importance is Rollins’ interpretation of original sin as the desire of the prohibited object. This reiteration from Idolatry is of seminal importance to Divine Magician, as it lays the foundation for the analogy of the three-part magic trick that gives the books its title.

That analogy, incisive as it is, may also give cause for discomfort for those who adhere to a rigidly Cartesian understanding of the world. This seems, of course, intentional on the part of Rollins. Nevertheless it is an effective and provocative way of interpreting the central narrative event in Christianity—namely the Death, Burial and Resurrection of Jesus. The central argument in Rollins’ reading of that event is that through it we become aware of the non-existence of the thing that we think we seek through it—the empty room of the Holy of Holies. It is not simply that God has left, but that God was never there to begin with, and it is through the death of God the Son that God reveals this truth of Godself to humanity; that God is not confined to some sacred space but is rather in the seemingly profane. 

While this may be troubling to some (and there are elements of it that are troubling to me as well—as there should be! ), it is where Rollins takes this thesis that makes it compelling: by removing the idea of a sacred loci for God—if not the idea of God in a locus full stop—Rollins is then positioned to make a persuasive and inspiring challenge to those who identify as Christians to relieve themselves of their infatuation with God as the Divine Magician who solves all of their problems. Instead, with that God being revealed by Godself as being a sham, the implorance of the bible becomes un-entangled from the pseudo-platonic trappings of transcendence and clearly reveals itself to be an active engagement with the world within the world while subversively remaining “not of “ the world.

This is the triumph of The Divine Magician—where The Idolatry of God concluded with a rather vacuous extortion to do nothing (and this was my primary critique of that work [and I know that may not actually be the conclusion of that book, merely the seeming conclusion]), Divine Magician exhorts to engage. It argues for an embodied Christianity that lives into the (subversive) reading of the Resurrection’s call to cease seeking the redemption unto desired status, and see instead the redemption of the profane that is present in this world as revealed in Christ.

——————————————————————————————————————

While I found The Divine Magician stimulating—and in many ways encouraging—it is not a work of comforting theology. It is instead a provocation that calls into question the very bedrock structures of our religious perspectives and deftly subverts them. It is a book that unsettles the comfort of avoidance and demands an honest (and sometimes necessarily overstated) evaluation of how our perspectives match up to the reality we inhabit. I would not recommend this book to everyone as a systematic theological argument that lines up perfectly with my own, but I would recommend this book for everyone as a challenge to that system which in many ways pushes fruitfully beyond that system and reveals—as it argues the bible does—the inadequacies of any such system as ultimate. 

A Quick Update on Life and a Reason for Radio Silence

Hello all! As some of may have heard, my research proposal to the Christian Congregational Music Conference has been accepted! I am extremely happy for this opportunity, and have a busy few months of research ahead of me.

My proposal is to study the correlation between style of music (genre) performed in a given congregation during Sunday services and the position of that church on the question of Queer acceptance. The suggestion has been made that open and affirming churches perform a certain repertoire and style of music, while churches that are either open but not affirming or closed and not affirming perform another. My first question is: Is this the case? My second is: If so, why? If not, why is that the perception among some Queer identifying people? My final objective for this paper is to highlight the ways in which the theological and ethical identity of a congregation is reflected or challenged by the musics performed as normative worship. What might the implications of any conclusion drawn from this course of study be for practitioners and church leaders?

In addition to this research project, I have been given a couple of awesome opportunities to do some creative writing, and if all goes according to plan, you will be able to enjoy the fruit of my labor very soon! In any case, I will update here when more can be shared. But for now, take my word for it: it's gonna be awesome!

All of this to say, in addition to the small and insignificant task (sarcasm) of being the primary caregiver for a 1 year old, I am not going to be updating the old blog here as frequently with as much depth as I would like. I will still update it regularly, but the posts will just be shorter.

May you all be blessed with grace, peace, and faith over the coming months.

A Legacy of Fear

For much of my life I have been plagued by fear. When I was a small boy I would have debilitating anxiety attacks; most kids are afraid at night, but I was hysterically, irrationally afraid of something getting me in my sleep.

So I wouldn't sleep.

When I was a little older, I was terrified of losing my parents. I remember panicking so badly when they were late returning from a date that I literally ran into the wall of my aunt and uncle's house. From the outside. I was 12 at the time--not a little kid.

And so I tried to keep track of my parents at all times.

By the time I reached high school I thought I had overcome much of my fear. But the trials of teenaged society elicited a new fear; fear of ridicule and scorn. This then turned into fear of being unwanted, unloved. And so I would try my best to say the right things and not offend anyone--if you know me, you know that was completely unsuccessful.

Eventually I grew up. 

My childhood fears subsided, or at least became more refined: I still can't sleep, but now I say it's because my mind won't shut off. I'm still afraid of losing my parents, but that's a natural fear when middle age and health concerns become reality, right? And I even stopped trying--sorta--to not offend anyone. Now I just try to offend them for the right reasons!

But I am still afraid.

When I was 26, I had the unpleasant distinction of encountering the hatred and animosity that bitterness can build in someone else. I was the erstwhile recipient of a character assassination by people whom I had considered lifelong friends. That event still stings. I wake up in the middle of the night terrified that they're plotting some new way of doing me harm.

A legacy of fear.

The religious community that I gravitated towards for most of my life was founded and built on fear. There are too many fears to count, but one big one stands out: fear of being wrong. This fear underwrites so much of what I've engaged in the past.

Perfect love casts out fear.

The reason I am writing this post is that at some point in my life I was grabbed by a reality that overcomes fear. I met Jesus--the real one, not the one who makes everyone afraid they're going to hell. I'd like to say that I'm not afraid anymore, but that just isn't true. But what I am doing is learning to live in the love that casts out fear. This love is not a white wash for evil, but is instead a love that realizes the evil--the wrongness of that fear--and forgives it. I'm still learning to do this. And I quite often react in anger and fear when I feel threatened. But the grace of God calls me out of it; calls me into a life of love without that kind of fear. And that is my goal; not just for me but for everyone I know. I want to live in the love that casts out fear. I want to be a part of that love.

Let's Talk About Non-Violence

I made a commitment to non-violence in 2009, after surviving the coup that ousted Honduran then-president Manuel Zalaya. It wasn't that singular event that persuaded me to commit to peace, but was rather a long series of events that culminated in a so called "moment of clarity."

Antecedents

My spiritual heritage finds its roots in the undercurrent of 16th century religious reform - alternately called the "Radical Reformation," "the Anabaptists (re-baptizers)," or the "left wing" of the Protestant Reformation. Despite some suggestions to the contrary, most scholars now agree that this movement originated in Zurich ca 1524. The hallmarks of this type of Christianity are equality among the faithful, social justice, and non-violence (there are of course other aspects of this heritage that are emphasized by others, but these are the points of emphasis in my religious history).

I grew up always having some notion that lethal violence was bad, and that it was always better for people to live than to die. But along the way I became convinced that there were certain situations where it was necessary for someone to die. Most compelling to me was the history of WWII. I was absolutely convinced that the Allies were right in opposing Hitler's Nazism. This conviction illustrated to me that there are certain situations that demand lethal force.

Exceptions that prove or exceptions that deny?

So let me back up a little bit and explain what exactly I mean by non-violence. Non-violence to me is a pretext for dialogue: It is an orientation of discourse that seeks to answer the injustices of such evils as Nazism before they demand violent response. Non-violence to me is not a reactive measure - a passive resignation to the triumph of evil should it manifest itself in power - but is a proactive stance that seeks to identify evil before it has a chance to take root. That stance attempts to reveal and subvert evil before it demands violent response. The failure in the context of WWII was not the Allied response to Hitler's aggression, but was instead the unwillingness to check the Nazi regime's aggression preemptively.

Make it smaller.

Okay, so Nazi's and the holocaust are extreme examples, and hopefully not ones we are ever going to face in real life (although don't rule it out). What about a mugging? Or a home invasion? What then? Do we condemn our families to death by inaction when it seems unavoidable? Again, the answer is pre-emptive. What can I do to identify those potentialities and undercut them before they become reality? Can I avoid a mugging by how I dress? Can I avoid a home invasion by not flaunting my wealth or by making sure my house is secure? Perhaps not, but I can work towards reforming the social conditions that make mugging or home invasion attractive activities. I can advocate for better working conditions for others. I can commit myself to a community where my neighbors know me and know that I am looking out for their interests, and hopefully they will do the same.

Boil it down.

But ultimately, it boils down to a faith that relies on God for my protection and an understanding of the world that sees Love as the antithesis of fear and hatred. I cannot profess loving someone I kill, and therefore I cannot kill someone if I profess to love them.

The Older Brother

This post is inspired by Erwin McManus' sermon of 14 December, 2014.



Have you ever felt like you are on the wrong side of a story? Like the things that happen to you should have happened to someone else, or that the things that happened to someone else should have happened to you?
Have you ever watched someone make a terrible decision and been powerless to stop it? Maybe you've even tried to stop them; tried to explain how they were making a mistake; tried to alert them to the dangers of what they were doing?
Has it ever seemed like the entire country was devolving into violence, anger and hatred? And despite your loud yelling, obvious logic, and confident propositions no one listened to you?

I have.

And let me tell you how I've responded: I've been critical, angry, and petty. I've been despondent, ready to throw in the towel on this whole Christianity thing.

And I've been self-righteous.

I've been angry at the unjust flourishing enjoyed by those who seem to only care about their own interests and getting their own way--no matter what it costs others. I've been livid by what I perceive as self-absorbed piety.

And I've been angry at God for allowing the world to be like this.

But it gets worse. I've been angry at God because the people who seem to be the worst violators of justice and peace are those who call themselves Christians. And even worse still is that these people who claim to follow Jesus are claimed by Jesus too! They enjoy all the benefits of their privileged position, thinking that all they need to do is acknowledge that it was God who gave them that privilege.

And it makes me angry.

So angry in fact that I don't want to go to church, listen to a sermon, sing a song, or talk about Jesus. I've begun to feel as if the people at church are there celebrating themselves and the good fortune of being them.

Breathe.

In Luke 15 Jesus tells the parable that is commonly called "The Prodigal Son." I used to think I loved that story, because that's what good Christians do: they love stories of redemption and hope. But over the years I've begun to like it less and less. Not because I stopped loving redemption and hope, but because I started to realize that my identification with this story was not that of the prodigal, but of the the other son.

I am the older son.

I've never gone off the rails. I've made good decisions. I've done good things in my life. But I am critical and judgmental of those who haven't--let me qualify that-- I've been critical and judgmental of those who are critical and judgmental. I am what I critique. And I need to change.

Not a change that stops calling to a destructive world, but a change in my own heart. A change of how I feel about my fellow "older brother" types. And a change of how I feel about God.

Because the story in Luke 15 is really about God. It is really about a God who loves even the most disgustingly self-righteous as well as the most disgustingly unrighteous and wants to bring both types home. And I need to celebrate when they, like I, come home.

Let's Talk About Tone

Over the past few months my social media channels have become more and more saturated with social debates on a broad range of topics. As I have sought to engage these topics effectively, I have become more and more combative in my engagements. This is not due to an intention but to a lack thereof.

Let me explain.

It has always been my purpose in any such debate to advocate for my position with a particular tone: that of gentleness, respect, and love. But over time, this intention became over shadowed by a desire for my voice to be heard. This desire to be heard resulted in an increase in volume, and a decrease in the nuance of my tone.

Think of it like a guitar amplifier.

Many guitar amps sound great turned all the way up. But when I say they sound great, I mean in terms of distortion. I personally LOVE distortion in my guitar amp--a modded 100w Marshall half stack--but the tone emitted from the speakers when cranked and distorted is only appropriate for certain functions. When accompanying a jazz crooner my distorted guitar amp is completely the wrong tone.

It is the same with conversations about justice and equality.

What I or anyone else has to say on those topics may well be valid, needed--even right. But if the mode of purveying that perspective is a cranked up Marshall in an intimate gathering then the beauty of both the gathering and the Marshall is completely lost.

How do you know if it's the right tone?

Does it build up or tear down? Does it belittle or encourage? That is how you know whether the tone of your argument is right. Even if the other party is wrong, you will not be right if your tone is combative and devaluing of their perspective. And from a purely practical perspective, you will never achieve you true aims through combative dialogue.

And friends, I've been combative. And I'm here to tell you I've been wrong.

Not about my positions. I will continue to advocate for the marginalized and the oppressed, because that is what Jesus did and what he clearly expects from his followers. But the way I do so must always be in love. This love does not mean that I silently allow evil to be carried out, but that by my words and actions I expose that evil for what it is without becoming evil myself. And I become evil myself when I fight evil with evil.

And do you know why I fight evil with evil?

Because I am afraid. Afraid of not sticking up for the right cause. Afraid of losing an argument. Afraid of losing face after losing an argument. But fear is always the wrong reason to engage. Fear creates more fear; creates more enemies. But love makes enemies less so. Not by allowing them to do evil uncontested, but by contesting it in such a way as to reveal its depravity without becoming evil in the process.

But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect. Mt. 5:44-48.

Why Am I A Christian?

After a long conversation with an atheistic friend, he turned to me and asked--with great gentleness and compassion--"so why are you a Christian?"

It seems that after the conversation he was unable to see how anything I was saying (and let me be clear, this was not an evangelistic conversation) needed a "god" figure to underwrite it. To him, it was just perfectly clear and obvious that it was better to love others; better to give than to take; better to pursue peace; better to pursue healthy relationships with others. It was just better, he didn't need "god" to prove and command that they were better--they just were.

This raised an interesting puzzle for me. Now, obviously not every person is as amazing as my friend, and would, if given the chance throw off the consequential weight that "god" brings to relationships. But I had to stop and ask myself- "Why am I a Christian? Especially when Christians are so often opposed to the things I am for?" I admit, I was stumped.

And maybe I still am. Or would be, if I wasn't thoroughly convinced of the reality of sin. I see sin--that is, destructive acts and relationships--everywhere I turned. Especially in my own life. And I recognize that there is no way for me to stop sinning or being a part of systematic sinfulness in the society I live in. And so I still need a savior. Not to let me keep on being a part of that sinful system while white washing the tomb of my participation, but by offering me a way out of that system and into life for not only myself but for others also.

I am a Christian because I still need a savior. I know that sounds trite and perhaps does not satisfy anyone. But it is simply the truth. I still need someone to reach in and pull me out of the mess of evil I create and perpetuate. We can get into all sorts of debate about ontological reasons for sin or good or evil or God, but that is not my purpose here.

I am a Christian because I still need a community of people that are committed to the same restoration and healing that I am. But what's strange about that is that community is not always found in Christian circles. This of course causes me to question whether my commitment is to Christianity or to something else. But it also causes me to question whether or not the way we define "Christianity" as a collective whole is also not actually a commitment to Christ, but to something else. Maybe God's plan for the world is much bigger than distinguishing between who is "in" and who is "out." I don't know. But I hope. And the reality is, I am a Christian, because I am committed to following Jesus, who is my savior and the source of my community.

Blind Spots

I just finished reading Mark Labberton's new book Called. It is a wonderfully thoughtful and pastoral exhortation to live life in such a way as to be the gospel in an embodied way. I highly recommend it.

As I was reading it, I began thinking about the ways I do and do not live into that calling. My thoughts drifted to my church, and to my service there (and by service, I do not mean to imply that I am in charge. I simply serve there--in a volunteer capacity). My thinking turned to reflection, and I remembered a series of events from the previous year that led me to question my involvement in that community.

Now, before you get the wrong idea, I'm not going to get into any sort of detail regarding those events. I am instead going to offer the insights I gained from some of those events: what it means to belong to a community and to serve there.

I have written before about using your voice in service, and I do not want to retread too much on that topic, but as I've moved further from the time I wrote that post one thing in particular has come into sharper focus as the days have passed. That thing is humility wrapped up in confidence tied in with honesty.

Speaking your mind is a hard thing to do, especially in a big group of people who are driven and determined to accomplish something. It gets even harder when the opinion you are giving voice to is one of dissent from the prevailing attitude. This is most often because we are afraid of being alienated or labelled as "party poopers." Nobody wants the reputation of being the one who upset the jovial onrush of energy or action.

But it is important to do for two reasons. The first is obvious, and that is that it may be what others need to hear. You may have the right insight for the situation and can help steer the ship in a more healthy direction. But the second is not so obvious, at least, not at first.

The second reason is that sharing your perspective allows other people to have a glimpse into your world. It allows you to be known. This being known is the first step to being held accountable. If you truly want to grow in faith and community, you need other people to know who you are and to speak into your life when you need it.

This is the part that we really don't want, but at some level recognize that we need. And this is the challenge of being a part of a faith community. If we want to grow in our faith, and in turn participate in others growth, we need to be a part of the action. We need to voice our agreements and our disagreements--not with the purpose of getting our way (although that is a hard purpose to avoid) but with the purpose of being known and convicted if we are wrong.

And that means opening your life up to others.

There is always a down side, though. Not everyone takes this approach, and still fewer are able to recognize it and reciprocate when it is enacted. There are few things more disheartening than taking this step, voicing your opinion coupled with an invitation for others to speak to your position and identify sinful attitudes in your life, and have the response be exclusion and silence.

But that too shall pass. Keep at it. Keep voicing your opinion. Keep asking for input and accountability. Make it known that you truly want to grow, and to be a part of a community that is growing, too. Don't disconnect, keep connecting and engaging. Eventually there will be a response--maybe a negative one--but that will at least give you something to go on. And even then don't give up! Growth is sometimes painful, but necessary. Be ready to forgive and receive forgiveness.

And if the situation becomes evidently toxic, be ready to move on. Sometimes communities are not a fit for everyone, and there will be another community where you will fit. But don't make that move until you've tried everything to get connected and stay that way.

On Value vs. Sin

This post in inspired by Caroline Vandenbree.

I have grown up in the tension between being loved and being sinful. I've grown up in no man's land, between the "liberal" trench of grace on my left and the "conservative" trench of the reality of sin on my right. I've heard and seen many leaders berate the 'other side' for either being too soft on sin or being too low on love or grace. And I've nodded in agreement with both.

But it never made sense to me.

It has, for as long as I've been old enough to understand the conversation, always seemed like there was some inexcusable leap being made on both sides.

This disconnect came into focus for me this last week as I was interacting with something Caroline posted on facebook. Her post was the site of some debate about wishy-washy churches vs strong, 'real' churches. Of course, it was the same old rhetoric, only this time the language had changed slightly. Instead of being an emphasis of sin at the cost of grace, or vice versa, the emphasis was on value--as in, you are valued by God regardless of anything else.

This statement of value received the push back from the 'conservative' side as being an indication of watered down gospel--not enough sin talk.

But hold on a second. Value in God's eyes has absolutely nothing to do with sinfulness. Let me say that again, being valued by God does not mean sin is not a problem. In fact, value and sinfulness are independent of one another; they don't have any bearing on the other. You are infinitely valuable regardless of your sinfulness.

And it all clicked for me. We have conflated our sense of worth with our ability to be sinless. 

Our battles and melees are really a protection of our inner sense of worth. That inner sense of worth is the root of real, actual, sin. That inner value that depends on our own ability to speak rightly or abstain rightly or do rightly is exactly the source of real sin.

But you are valued beyond measure by God regardless of your sin. Value is not a negotiable commodity for God. Yes, you are a sinner and so am I, but that reality should never impinge on the grace that reveals the root of sin. You see, by emphasizing sin at the expense of value, Christians have unwittingly enabled the power of sin to remain in their life. It's like when you obsess over a bad habit; you keep doing it because you keep thinking about it. You want to stop biting your nails? Stop thinking about not biting them. Think about something else. You want to live into the call of grace that rescues us from the grip of sin? Stop thinking about sinning or not sinning or making sure everyone else knows how sinful they are. Let the cost of God's value of your person render your inner righteousness the rubbish you want everyone else's righteousness to be.

You are a sinner and you are valuable. Those two things are not in opposition.

Biblical Texts We Ignore

I got to thinking the other night about how every Christian position seems to orient itself towards certain interpretations of certain biblical passages while ignoring others. It seems that any doctrinal statement is at the expense of a comprehensive reading of the bible. Why is this?

"Numbers. Nothing good here; just a bunch of numbers..."- Lesley (Tongue planted firmly in cheek).

I posed the thought to my wife over dinner, and that was her response. She then agreed with me that each side of the conservaliberal divide emphasizes certain passages and ignores the ones the other side emphasizes.

What does this tell us?

It tells us that neither side is interested in being biblical. Instead, they are interested in being right. This is why I am not a liberal or a conservative. I've no interest in being right, nor in trying to make others think that I am so. I'm interested in being faithful.

It also tells us that our socio/political positions are woefully insufficient and catastrophically inadequate to partner with the God of the bible. If your "biblical" theology ignores part of the bible your "biblical" theology is sentimental bullshit. You can disagree about those parts that are troubling, but you can't ignore them and call yourself "biblical."

OR

The bible is contradictory. This is a statement of fact. How many times did David meet Saul? How many animals got on Noah's ark?

There are three options available in the wake of this revelation: You can ignore the parts of the bible that you don't like; you can throw out the bible altogether as nonsensical piety; or you can adjust your perspective of what the bible is saying until you can hold all of it together in first tension and finally a dissonant harmony.

What texts do you ignore?

Bleed.

This has been a summer where every ounce of optimism I had about being a Christian was vaporized like so much water in the California drought of public opinion. This has been a summer like so many others that will stand as the harbinger of things to come. From ISIS to Ukraine to Ferguson to Immigration to Wall Street the world has changed, and not for the better. But that's not what has sapped my hope for Christianity. That sapping is the result of the response of so many well-meaning (and that's my best hope for them) Christians to the events that I've just mentioned.

My God, what a world You love.

Christians. We are anything but. "The world will know you by your love" - Is that how you're known? That's not how I know you. I know you by your vitriol for anything you disagree with. I know you by your justification of systemic sin if it benefits you. I know you for your anger about what others do to water down the gospel, conform to the media's agenda, or take resources from the mouth of your children and give it to those less deserving.

I know you because I am you. 

And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the fact that I am a part of it, and that everything I do or say is a part of the problem. We are the problem. Christian! You are the problem! Sin is not the problem, you are sin to those you are trying to save! If you tell someone to repent of their sin while to them you represent everything evil they will not listen. And it is on you if they fail to, because the gospel you've presented is a sham.

Our gospel is a sham because it is not good news. 

I've nothing hopeful to offer in conclusion. I've no good thing to say that will soothe the wound my words have opened, because the wound should not be soothed.

Bleed. 

Bleed with those whom your words have severed. Let the dust drink up your blood like the blood of your brother. Suffer the rebuke that strikes me even as it strikes you. Know that I am you. I need to change. I don't know how, and I don't imagine grace will fix it without sacrifice.

God, show us how to be like Jesus in the power of your Spirit. Show us how to be for others in love.

A New Language

Do you know anyone who is a racist? Or, better yet, do you know anyone who would claim to be a racist? Do you know anyone who would not object heartily if he were called a racist and refuse to accept that he was such?

A word devoid of meaning

It seems to me that the word "racist" and the meaning it conveys has become so much a cultural caricature that the word has lost currency. No one is a racist, because the caricature of racism is so unbelievable that it does not resonate with anyone.

Caricature is critique that has lost its power

When a critique becomes a caricature it ceases to wield power to convict. This is what has happened with the term racism. It has no power. Yet the prejudices that surround the concept of racism persist, and perhaps are even expanding. But what are we to call this ever expanding milieu of prejudice? How do we communicate with those who are such (and with ourselves if it be found that we are as well) that they are it without causing them to close their ears to our critique by the use of the word "racism/t?"

Culturism

We need a new word. I propose this: Culturism. Whereas racism assumes an essential biology, culturism reveals that the source of our prejudice is the culture--the way of speaking and acting that is meaningful--is the real source of our ire. When we are culturists when we exhibit behavior and attitudes that denigrate the normative behavior of another and find in that behavior something threatening or offensive.

The depth of prejudice

Additionally, culturism reveals that prejudice is not necessarily defined by skin color and place of birth, but is actually much less selective than that. Culturism is prejudice of action, behavior, and meaning, and this is what we actually do. So the next time you catch yourself thinking that some other group is stupid or bad, realize that what you are thinking is racist-but call it culturist so that you can still be convicted of your prejudice.

We're not racists--we're culturists.

Them

There is no shortage of rhetoric regarding the division of people. From racial divisions to cultural divisions; from socioeconomic divisions to religious divisions. It seems that humanity has some ingrained nature to construct barriers to determine who is or is not a part of my group.

By what they are not.

Group identity is a funny thing, as a crucial component of any group identity is the ability to determine who is not a part of the group. This apophatic (definition according to what the thing is not) ability is pervasive; everybody knows how to tell which people do not belong in any social setting.

Linguistic markers.

While there are many markers of belonging that are readily identified, the most common of these is language. The words we use and the way we use them determines by and large which group or culture we belong to (or do not belong to, as the case may be).

But there is a larger, more "meta," linguistic marker that transcends cultural barriers.

The use of the word "them." While innocent enough in origin, the word has come to be the biggest impediment to the spread of the gospel and the renewal of the world it brings. As long as there is a "them" then we have an excuse to regard "them" as less than we. As long as we have a mental category of "them" we will never be the people of God we think we are.

The destruction of them.

This is because the gospel of Jesus destroys "them" as a concept. Think of Peter in Acts 10 and the rest of the disciples in Acts 11 (I'm not going to quote it here because I want those of you who are interested to dig out your bible and see what it says for yourself). While they clearly understood an "in" and an "out," the Holy Spirit demanded a different understanding (see Act 11:17 for example).

Christians need to let our concept of "them" be destroyed by the transforming power of the gospel.

Remember that in Christ there is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male plus female, but all are one in Christ. And while you may rightly point out that "in Christ" is a qualifier, and that those who are not "in Christ" are still "them," remember that God's explicitly stated intention is for there to be no "them" (try on Matthew 28 for an obvious example). That is the goal, the telos of God for humanity: "I desire that they should be one just as you and I are one" (John 17:21-22). That is what the gospel brings, and our resistance to such only proves our inability to obey Jesus.

But where sin flourishes, grace abounds.

In this we are the same as the disciples, and so there is hope for us. But the disciples eventually were "transformed by the renewing of (their) minds," and so can we. They key is that there can be no "them," just "we."

The Bible: Literal? Inerrant? Infallible? Authoritative? True?

There are just so many semantic and linguistic nuances flitting about regarding the bible that a person hardly knows what to make of it. For many of us, the designations "inerrant" and "infallible" are academically split hairs that have become the weapons of war for those who find in them ultimate meaning. But we find no such meaning in them.

A quick distinction.

Let's just start out with what these terms actually mean. First, inerrant literally means without error; that every word and punctuation in the bible is without error. The second term, infallible, means that the intentions of the bible are always successful; literally, incapable of being wrong or of failing.

Further messiness.

However, when we get to tossing around terms like "error" and "failure" we need more distinction. What is an error? An error according to intention? An error according to standards of inquiry? Whose standards? What about success? Again, according to intention? According to other standards?

It gets worse.

Now, there is a distinction between what the words mean in a lexical sense and how people use them. When someone says "the bible is literally true" they may mean that the bible contains no errors in intention, but mostly what they mean is that everything in the bible happened woodenly and literally as it is recorded. When the Israelites were fighting the Amorites in Joshua 10 and the text says that "the sun stood still int he heaven,"literalists take it to mean that the sun is moving and the earth stood still. Now, we understand scientifically that as far as we are concerned the sun does not move, but that we move in relation to the sun. If the sun stopped moving it would have no impact on us whatsoever. So the passage in Joshua 10 makes no sense from this perspective.

Inerrant/Infallible.

This is where the inerrantist or infalliblist steps in and says, well, that was just a figure of speech. The intention of the text was to say that God made the day last extra long so that Israel could destroy the Amorites (a questionable ethical concession, but one that we will avoid for today). It was not a scientific explanation of how the feat was accomplished, but was rather a subjective account of what happened from their perspective.

Not helpful.

I've thought for many years that these designations were not only unhelpful, but were just plain silly. The bible is not a science text book; the modern concept of history did not exist when the bible was written. The intention of the bible was not to prove itself by the criteria we've constructed for it. Rather it was to bear witness to the movement of God of restoring the whole world to Godself. The renewal of all things. So often we get it into our heads that the bible exists to prove us right. It doesn't. Our being right about the bible makes no difference to the bible. Nor does it to God.

Some questions.

When can we get beyond these unhelpful ways of talking? And what is a better way of talking about the bible? Do we really need to assent to one of these designations to be a follower of Jesus?

Are we too stuck on this bible thing?

Jesus said that the sabbath was made for humans, not humans for the sabbath in Mark 2. I wonder if he would say the same thing about the bible: the bible was made for humans, not humans for the bible. Just a little something to consider.

Tone

Have you ever noticed that you can tell which side of an argument a person favors just from the tone of their voice? They don't even have to take a side for you to know where they stand. You can just tell. Tone is also indicative of religious or philosophical leanings. I can peg a televangelist from a mile away because of the tone of his voice. And I bet you can too.

More than just a sound.

But there are other kinds of tone. For instance, the sorts of words we use to describe a situation or topic can also be a kind of tone. When courtroom drawings were regular occurrences in newspapers, the way the characters in the trial were depicted was a type of tone; sometimes the way the artist drew the defendant would be a determining factor of whether or not they were found guilty.

Tone matters.

The tone we use can have far reaching consequences. If the tone I carry when writing on this blog is too cynical, I stand to lose influence with those who are committed to the topics I address here. If too rigid, those who disagree with me will tune me out.

Appropriate, or fitting-ness, of tone.

Is there ever a time when an abrasive tone is the most effective? I think there is. For instance, when a child is about to run into traffic an urgent and authoritative/controlling tone is needed in both word and action. But what about something a little less obvious? Say doctrinal allegiance? If a certain doctrinal stance is vital to you, are you willing for your tone to exclude those who disagree from your church? Is your own personal righteousness dependent on an unwavering tone?

Consider the effect of your tone before you speak and act.

It is okay and even good to make a stand on things that matter to you. But when your stance is one of exclusion and ostracism you gain nothing. You may even lose those who were entrusted into your care. It is okay to disagree, but the tone of your disagreement matters more than your position, especially if you are trying to lead people in following Jesus. Think about that next time you address one of the more divisive topics in society. 

The Web of Time and The Permanent Now

I currently contribute a thought or two to a Facebook Discussion Group/Public Forum called "A / THEISM: An ongoing discussion on religion, irreligion & morality". One of the recent discussions centered around the relationship between humanity and the potential of divinity. While I would love to wax poetic about the nuances and finer points of this topic, I would be remiss to do so here, and recommend you visit the forum and read for yourself.

At some point during the discussion, a comment was made regarding the nature of time and the potentiality of God within/beyond/participating in time.

The Emergence of a Question

As I have had opportunity to reflect on this point, I've been struck by the incredibly limited understanding of time that I (and I assume others) operate with. I think of time as a single constant; a line if you will. Most of us have seen (probably in our Western Civ. textbooks) a timeline of history, whereon the noteworthy moments and advances are plotted. This is a helpful device for gaining a sense of one history, but not for understanding the unit of reference commonly called "time."

Let me explain in a little more detail: there are many such histories with their own developments and recessions. While it may not be readily apparent while living in a single history, when our own history intersects or collides with another we are made (sometimes startlingly) aware of the divergences of history.

What if time were also this way? What if there are many times; a web perhaps?

This seems to interact with our notions of cause and effect and our preoccupation with "first causes" or singular results. We want there to be a single, identifiable cause for everything we encounter. This helps make life understandable. But the reality of life is not this way. There are many, many causes, and many, many effects. A single action will likely effect many other actions, and may in turn have been caused by many other such actions.

Time functions in this way also.

Since time is not an actual entity, but rather is an object of understanding; a means of tracking development, movement, etc, it then follows that the future of this point for each of us can be one of many possible paths.  Time therefore is not a single constant, but many intersecting constants that continually interact.

Think of it as the many strands in spider's web.

Each strand represents a given sequence of events that emanate from any certain action or event. This is generally how we experience time; as a constant "now" that is ever changing, becoming the present from many direct or indirect points in history.

This helps us understand how God can be beyond yet within time.

Because time is not a governing force, but rather an attempt to track and understand what is happening, we do not need to construct an explanation of God's relationship to it. Instead, we need to speak about that relationship in terms that work within the paradigm we are using to explain what is happening. So if this is our aim, then we can say that God is the presence of the experiential now, the eternal present. This is not a claim in conflict with science nor classical theism, but is rather a way of explaining how God can be what the bible claims God is. The Permanent Now.

White Privaledge (Privilege)

I think I was in my mid twenty's when I first understood the privilege and standing my gender and skin color afforded me. It was for many reasons that I was unaware of these privileges, primarily that I grew up in a largely homogenous town where being those things didn't really get you anything someone else couldn't get.

I don't really remember what happened that made me realize the luxury I enjoy. I think it was more of a gradual dawning, the way the sun rises over the prairie- a glow, then a glimmer, then a spot, then a sliver growing into the brilliance of the mid-day sun. That's how I think I realized privilege.

I am curious and tempted by that curiosity to explore the depths and layers of that privilege, but that is not the question I want to ask here. The question I want to ask here is this:

I'm white and male. What can I do about it?

Do about it isn't really the right way of saying it. There is nothing I can do, short of major experimental surgery, to change that fact anymore than a person who is not those things can change either. And besides, even if I could change, that would still be an exercise of the privilege I am trying to escape. Rather, I think it's time for white men to own up to the privilege they are afforded and work to a) end that inequity with this generation and b) use that privilege to empower others.

The first thing step is recognizing and destroying entitlement.

Entitlement is such an ugly thing. And what makes it worse is that in order to be entitled you cannot know that you are; no truly entitled person knows they're entitled. Entitlement, as I am using the word, is expecting certain standards of treatment that are at the expense of others. Very few people are willfully and disregarding the well being of another in the pursuit of "their rights." Most do so in ignorance. But let me be clear: most white males think they are entitled to a certain standard of living, comfort, social standing, and respect, and will pursue this "right" to the detriment of all others.

Entitlement almost always thrives in the shadow of ignorance.

You can't fix something you don't know is broken. So let's make a short list of things people think they are entitled to:

-Get What I Want: This is the most obvious form of entitlement, and is probably what your mind jumped to when you read the word in this post. But it may surprise you haw entitled you actually are in this regard. If you don't stop and think about what effect your desire will have on other people-especially those around you, but also in far-off corners of the world-you have entitlement issues.

-Convenience: This one is less obvious than the first, but still more obvious than the next two. Convenience dovetails right into getting what we want at the expense of others, such as cutting someone off in traffic or going to the express lane at the grocery store when you have more items than are allowed in that lane. You do these things because you think, way down deep, that it is your right to get to where you are going or wait the shortest amount of time in line. But these are not your rights. And if you are aware of the fact that your pursuit of this things deprives others of what is their right, you can begin moving away from entitlement and into empowerment.

-Be Heard: Still more difficult to observe-yet more powerful in its scope- is the notion that I have a right to be heard at the expense of others. This generally is most observable in legal proceedings. Entitled people tend to speak more forcefully-and subsequently get the benefit of many decisions-than people who feel they are not entitled to their own voice. This also shows up in emotionally abusive religious experiences; the entitled person, usually the abuser, by his/her actions and words deprives the abused of their ability to speak and receive the benefit of arbitration from an outside source. If think your voice is the only one that needs to be heard, you are entitled.

-Best Bang for Buck: This is tricky because entitlement here is intertwined with cultural values of frugality and stewardship. It makes good, practical sense to purchase goods that give you the best ROI, or Return On Investment. But when we pursue this goal without restraint we actually begin depriving others of their needs. Your $3 T-shirt from H&M cost more than that to make. Someone along the line between the cotton field and the sales floor is taking the loss. And I guarantee you it is not the CEO.

So back to my original question, what to do with my privilege, I propose a recognition of that privilege and a commitment to use it to empower others. It is kinda like the concept of replacing yourself in a work environment; you empower others to do what you do so that the company can be more effective and healthy. And while the analogy only goes so far, it is the same idea with regard to society: give your privilege away so that the society can be more effective and healthy. This takes many forms, but here are three simple takeaways:

1-Advocate for those who are not of the privileged few. Fight for the rights of women and "racial" minorities. If you arrive at a supermarket cashier at the same time as someone else let them go first. If you know that a law is written in such a way that it discriminates, tell your representative to fight to fix it.
2-Recognize and eliminate the areas of Entitlement in your life. Take an honest look at how you behave in relation to your desires and values. Do you pursue them without consideration of the cost to others? If so, you need to change.
3-Be generous. Recognize the difference between your needs and your wants and use the time/money/brainpower you might have spent pursuing your own desires and spend it on someone else. Especially someone who needs it. Buy one t-shirt that will pay the people who made it instead of five that don't. This is a privileged thing to do, but it is not oriented towards sustaining privilege at the expense of others.

Being vs Doing, vs Doing vs Feeling, vs Doing vs Doing

Who are you?

No, not what do you do, but who are you?

Now, could you be this person without doing what you do?

How does this make you feel?

We spend a lot of time thinking about who we are.

Have you ever noticed that sometime during their early twenty's most people will struggle to define themselves and articulate that definition in some semblance of existential identity. And identity is really what we are/were all after; we wanted to figure out what identified us as us.

Somewhere along the line we started realizing that what we did was not who we were. Or, at least we thought so. But there were other thoughts crowding out that one, because even if we listened to that thought, another was whispering,

"But if you don't do anything, how can you be anything?"

In the middle of this neurological dialogue our feelings may have interrupted and asserted that they were the real source of identity; doing or saying anything oppositional to how we felt was false, because our feelings were the source of our identity. Of course, we intuited that this wasn't quite right either, and then we began trying to understand what it meant to do something without being that something.

And here we came to the crux of the search for identity: the difference between doing and doing. See, if our being has nothing to do with our doing, then how do we know we exist if we never do anything to signify that existence? Being is not an object of understanding alone, but is also an object of substance, as who we are is displayed by our actions; "you can tell a tree by its fruit"-Jesus.

But doing an action is different than doing a job. And here we need to articulate the distinction between action and vocation. Much of what I feared in being defined by what I did was the obsession I nurtured with occupation, or a lack thereof. I did not want to be defined by what I did to earn a living. And in this sense, doing is different than being. But in the more important sense, what we do in terms of words, thoughts, actions, flows from and into who we are as humans.

We are not merely our doings, but we are not apart from them either. 

This inseparability is not confined to the projected sense of being; our doing also forms our being. It creates us, makes us who we are. If you wanted to become a soccer player, you played soccer. You did the thing you wanted to be until you were good enough at doing it that you became it. The same concept holds true for other things as well, such as thankfulness, gentleness, patience, etc. We become these things by practicing them. And so in an important sense we become what we do.

This works negatively as well.
If we continually act in anger, arrogance, entitlement, pride, we will become those things- even if we did not start off being them! It is not inauthentic to practice patience even if you do not feel patient. It is transformative. The act of trying to be patient makes you more patient.

If you find yourself arguing with yourself about who you are vs what you do, remember that eventually you will become what you do.

Thankfulness

While I spend a lot of my time on here pontificating and waxing (un)poetically about the nature of life, the difference between faith and belief, truth and lies, love and hate, etc, today I am convicted to write about thankfulness. I have much to be thankful for, and even though I don't always feel like doing it, taking the time to recall what I am thankful for does in fact stimulate those feelings of thankfulness. I could launch into a long list of such things, but instead I am going to write briefly about two things.

But before I do that, I need to hop down a rabbit trail for some reflection on integrity and thankfulness. There are times when it feels inauthentic to be thankful. Sometimes it seems that at my core I am anything but thankful. This seems to be a paradox when I consider my own value of integrity with myself; I never want to fake something or express a sentiment that I consider to be false. So practicing thankfulness when I don't feel thankful seems disingenuous. This of course assumes that feeling a certain way is the sole litmus test of personal truth, while simultaneously ignoring the practice principle: if you want to authentically be something you've got to practice it. As hard as this is to accept, if you want to be thankful start thanking someone for things.

First, I am incredibly thankful for my family.

This one is obvious and seemingly easy, but family is sometimes trying. It's been six months since Ford was born, and during those months there have been moments when I felt like it was all for nothing. I knew, objectively, that it was worth it, but raising an infant as a stay at home dad is something I was unprepared for. There was just so much that I needed to be able to offer emotionally to Ford without any reciprocation; without receiving anything in return for my emotional investment. And to be honest there were days when I felt like it was all for nothing. A person can think like that when they are unable to embrace thankfulness.

Now, six months in, Ford is smiling, laughing, scooching, grabbing, chewing eating hugging "kissing" (open mouthed baby kisses. Imagine a baby going to nurse on your face but instead of sucking he just holds his mouth there. At first we thought he was hungry, but then we realized he was showing us affection in the same way we were- we kissed him a lot), and basically being a tiny, adorable human. And while I can still remember the feelings of wasted life, I can now see them as disingenuous. Part of what helps me see that is being thankful. Taking the moments to recall and recount the things that Ford does and the person he is becoming. When I think about those things I cannot but be thankful for the life I have with him. Stay at home dads for the win!

The other part of family is my incredible wife, Lesley. It is not just anyone who will recognize that, for the time being, she needs to be the breadwinner of the family and willingly gives up her dream of being a stay at home mom for the sake of her family. Lesley is that woman. And on top of that, she has seldom been anything but encouraging to me as I sort out my feelings and thoughts about our new roles. She even is happy to let me go out with my academic friends for a beer in the evening; without complaining or even getting upset! And on top of that, she's gorgeous. I don't know how I got so lucky to end up with her, and I am so incredibly thankful for her.

The second thing I am thankful for are futures.

For those of you who do not know me, I've spent a lot of time around death. I don't talk about it often, but an alarming number of my friends are no longer living. They each have their own story, and I cannot do any of them justice recounting it here, but suffice it to say that the question of death-and why I am still alive-has been one that I have travelled with for a good many years. And during that traveling I've started to realize what death means beyond the end of a body's life: it is the loss of futures. In this sense, people can be dead while still alive. Death is the impossibility of a future, a friend once wrote, and she was right.

In all of the myriad ways it can be applied, the possibility of a future is something that I am incredibly thankful for. A future transcends my own paltry existence; a future conjures up themes of meaning, purpose, legacy, etc. My future does not end with me, or even my son, but can continue in the legacy of the work I do here and now. That legacy, that future, is love. I want to be remembered as someone who loved deeply, without reservation or arrogance. My future will be the past to someone who is loved. That is something I am thankful for.