I've been sick for almost 3 weeks now with what has turned into pneumonia. I've never had pneumonia before, so even though I'm a novice where pneumonia is concerned, I can say with complete certainty that this sucks.
That's the extent of it. Now I'm out of breath.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
Part of the Cure
A week ago last night I was in Atlanta at the Coldplay show. I've seen Coldplay before and I'll have to say they're my one of my two favorite bands (second only to a particular quartet from Dublin that I'll be seeing live later this year). This most recent Coldplay show was quite a bit different for me than the previous times I've seen them, however. I was at this show as a volunteer for OxFam America (www.oxfamamerica.org), an organization dedicated to serving those affected by extreme poverty, as well working to eradicate extreme poverty itself...as Nelson Mandela has said, poverty is not natural, but man-made, and therefore we can end it if we truly want to.
The purpose of our work at this show was to get as many Coldplay fans as possible to sign a petition that calls on President Obama and the Congress to devote more energy and resources to the issue of climate change, as climate change-related disasters affect the world's poor 20 TIMES MORE than the rest of us. Coldplay has been heavily involved with OxFam since the early days of the band, so a lot of Coldplay fans know about the work OxFam does, and are proud to be part of it.
We stood in the cool rain of the late afternoon and early evening getting fans to sign the petition while the warm-up bands (Howling Bells and Pete Yorn) played, and then joined several thousand of the rest of our friends on the lawn as Chris, Jonny, Guy and Will reminded us again why this music means so much to us. Then we were privileged to help hand out the band's brand new live cd that they're giving away for free at their shows and on their website. It was a lot of fun, not to mention exhilirating to be there working on behalf of those who are typically not heard, and therefore rely on voices like yours and mine to change their world.
But, the most important part of the night for me personally was not the show or the people who our team signed up for the cause. Instead, it was meeting a young woman named Soha, who is the OxFam rep on this leg of the Coldplay tour. She made sure we all knew everything we were supposed to know in order to make the most of our efforts as volunteers, plus she did a wonderful job making all of us feel welcome and important to the cause. She was born in Beirut, immigrated as a child to the U.S., and she grew up in Los Angeles.
As we were walking around the venue, she asked me what led me to become part of OxFam, as well as what kind of work I did. I told her that I do a few different things, which include being the co-founder and futurist for Second Life of Chattanooga (www.secondlifechattanooga.org), an organization dedicated to raising awareness about the issue of the sexual exploitation and trafficking of children in the U.S. She seemed very intrigued about how I came to be involved in such an issue, and I told her that a couple of years ago I heard someone in a meeting in Orlando briefly mention the issue of trafficking in the U.S. and I knew I had to do something about it.
Soha was amazed that hearing a couple of lines from someone in a meeting would cause me to take this kind of action. So amazed, in fact, that she told me she was doing a blog while on the tour, and she wanted to video me for it, letting me tell people briefly what Second Life is about, and how it fits with the mission of OxFam (the youtube link can be found at www.oxfam.org/coldplay and then look for the May 18th entry).
Once the show was over and we'd handed out the free cd's, put away all the info., taken down the OxFam tent and said goodbye to the rest of the team, Soha and I stood next to the seats where thousands had just been part of a great experience, and she had me talk for just a minute about why I was doing what I was doing on behalf of so many who are waiting for someone to set them free. As we walked out of the venue, Soha once again told me that she was inspired by my decision to do the kind of social justice work I'm doing. It was then that I told her I did this out of a sense of calling, and I finally let her know that I am a follower of Jesus, as well as a pastor.
I told her that I don't usually lead with this information, as it has a tendency to shut down dialogue because of the very crappy way so many Christians present themselves these days. Soha immediately began to tell me that she understood where I was coming from, as so many who share her Muslim faith have made it about nothing more than "the rules." We both talked about how we felt our respective faiths called us to something deeper and higher, and that we could be part of something better than our particular groups so often were known to be part of. Like those words from the Coldplay song "Clocks," we both find ourselves choosing to be, "...part of the cure," and not "...part of the disease."
We said our goodbyes, hoping to re-connect further on up the road. In the early morning hours of a rainy Monday in Atlanta, the young woman in the head-scarf from Los Angeles and the middle-aged man in the baseball cap and bandana from Tennessee were part of the cure. Thanks be to God.
The purpose of our work at this show was to get as many Coldplay fans as possible to sign a petition that calls on President Obama and the Congress to devote more energy and resources to the issue of climate change, as climate change-related disasters affect the world's poor 20 TIMES MORE than the rest of us. Coldplay has been heavily involved with OxFam since the early days of the band, so a lot of Coldplay fans know about the work OxFam does, and are proud to be part of it.
We stood in the cool rain of the late afternoon and early evening getting fans to sign the petition while the warm-up bands (Howling Bells and Pete Yorn) played, and then joined several thousand of the rest of our friends on the lawn as Chris, Jonny, Guy and Will reminded us again why this music means so much to us. Then we were privileged to help hand out the band's brand new live cd that they're giving away for free at their shows and on their website. It was a lot of fun, not to mention exhilirating to be there working on behalf of those who are typically not heard, and therefore rely on voices like yours and mine to change their world.
But, the most important part of the night for me personally was not the show or the people who our team signed up for the cause. Instead, it was meeting a young woman named Soha, who is the OxFam rep on this leg of the Coldplay tour. She made sure we all knew everything we were supposed to know in order to make the most of our efforts as volunteers, plus she did a wonderful job making all of us feel welcome and important to the cause. She was born in Beirut, immigrated as a child to the U.S., and she grew up in Los Angeles.
As we were walking around the venue, she asked me what led me to become part of OxFam, as well as what kind of work I did. I told her that I do a few different things, which include being the co-founder and futurist for Second Life of Chattanooga (www.secondlifechattanooga.org), an organization dedicated to raising awareness about the issue of the sexual exploitation and trafficking of children in the U.S. She seemed very intrigued about how I came to be involved in such an issue, and I told her that a couple of years ago I heard someone in a meeting in Orlando briefly mention the issue of trafficking in the U.S. and I knew I had to do something about it.
Soha was amazed that hearing a couple of lines from someone in a meeting would cause me to take this kind of action. So amazed, in fact, that she told me she was doing a blog while on the tour, and she wanted to video me for it, letting me tell people briefly what Second Life is about, and how it fits with the mission of OxFam (the youtube link can be found at www.oxfam.org/coldplay and then look for the May 18th entry).
Once the show was over and we'd handed out the free cd's, put away all the info., taken down the OxFam tent and said goodbye to the rest of the team, Soha and I stood next to the seats where thousands had just been part of a great experience, and she had me talk for just a minute about why I was doing what I was doing on behalf of so many who are waiting for someone to set them free. As we walked out of the venue, Soha once again told me that she was inspired by my decision to do the kind of social justice work I'm doing. It was then that I told her I did this out of a sense of calling, and I finally let her know that I am a follower of Jesus, as well as a pastor.
I told her that I don't usually lead with this information, as it has a tendency to shut down dialogue because of the very crappy way so many Christians present themselves these days. Soha immediately began to tell me that she understood where I was coming from, as so many who share her Muslim faith have made it about nothing more than "the rules." We both talked about how we felt our respective faiths called us to something deeper and higher, and that we could be part of something better than our particular groups so often were known to be part of. Like those words from the Coldplay song "Clocks," we both find ourselves choosing to be, "...part of the cure," and not "...part of the disease."
We said our goodbyes, hoping to re-connect further on up the road. In the early morning hours of a rainy Monday in Atlanta, the young woman in the head-scarf from Los Angeles and the middle-aged man in the baseball cap and bandana from Tennessee were part of the cure. Thanks be to God.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Re-connecting
I heard from a long-time friend yesterday, someone I hadn't talked to in quite a few years. During college and for several years after he and I were closely connected and stayed in regular contact. As so often happens as we move through our lives, however, we lost touch after a while, and went several years without hearing from each other. But, through the wonders of Facebook (the social network that seems to be almost exclusively staked out by middle-aged people at this point), we found each other a little while ago, and yesterday we had out first real time, voice to voice conversation in quite a while.
It was one of those times that you've probably experienced before, as if we'd had taken a brief break in an already on-going conversation, and then picked it back up with, "Okay, so what was it you were saying?" We laughed in the same way, shared the same confidence and fear about life and ourselves, expressing some of the same hopes and doubts, only now through a middle-aged filter. God, it was so good to talk to him, this life-long friend of mine, the older brother I never had until he came into my life all those years ago. Some face to face time for later this year was discussed, and is greatly hoped for.
These re-connections always leave me wondering about both friendship and what it means to be the person I am. Friendship is a tricky thing, something I take very seriously, a fact that I have found over the course of my life places me in a minority. What most people call friendship is really nothing more than our being acquainted with certain surface facts about another person, all the while knowing little to nothing of the truth about that person, who they are in their most hopeful place, as well as in their darkest. One of my on-going frustrations is that it seems many people are satisfied with this surface acquaintance, as it makes the whole idea of friendship much more linear and sanitized than I believe it was ever meant to be. These surface acquaintances also allow others to rip you apart when the real truth of you, the one they never took the time to get to know, begins to come out, shattering not only their view of you, but also their view of themselves, pointing out the disconnect between what you might need from them and what they're willing, or maybe even equipped, to give another person.
When it comes to being myself, each time I re-connect with a true friend such as the one I spoke with yesterday, I can't help but be reminded of who I hoped to be all those years ago, as well as who I swore I'd never be, and how I've tricked myself a bit on both sides of that equation over the years. My friend yesterday reminded me that at least some, maybe even a lot, of the person who hoped to become certain things in his 20's still remains, only maybe the man in his 40's knows a bit more about what is worth becoming and what isn't than the guy in his 20's knew. He also reminded me that true friends also want to occupy the space of failure and it's accompanying pain with you, as the true friend knows that pain is sacred, but when shared becomes powerful and life-giving as well.
So, yesterday my friend and I gave a bit more oxygen to each other's dreams, as well as experienced a bit of the life that only pain can bring. We were and are two men still becoming, still hoping for the best, still believing we will find what it is we're looking for, and that we will celebrate those discoveries together.
It was great hearing from you JWD. It was also great to hear from myself.
It was one of those times that you've probably experienced before, as if we'd had taken a brief break in an already on-going conversation, and then picked it back up with, "Okay, so what was it you were saying?" We laughed in the same way, shared the same confidence and fear about life and ourselves, expressing some of the same hopes and doubts, only now through a middle-aged filter. God, it was so good to talk to him, this life-long friend of mine, the older brother I never had until he came into my life all those years ago. Some face to face time for later this year was discussed, and is greatly hoped for.
These re-connections always leave me wondering about both friendship and what it means to be the person I am. Friendship is a tricky thing, something I take very seriously, a fact that I have found over the course of my life places me in a minority. What most people call friendship is really nothing more than our being acquainted with certain surface facts about another person, all the while knowing little to nothing of the truth about that person, who they are in their most hopeful place, as well as in their darkest. One of my on-going frustrations is that it seems many people are satisfied with this surface acquaintance, as it makes the whole idea of friendship much more linear and sanitized than I believe it was ever meant to be. These surface acquaintances also allow others to rip you apart when the real truth of you, the one they never took the time to get to know, begins to come out, shattering not only their view of you, but also their view of themselves, pointing out the disconnect between what you might need from them and what they're willing, or maybe even equipped, to give another person.
When it comes to being myself, each time I re-connect with a true friend such as the one I spoke with yesterday, I can't help but be reminded of who I hoped to be all those years ago, as well as who I swore I'd never be, and how I've tricked myself a bit on both sides of that equation over the years. My friend yesterday reminded me that at least some, maybe even a lot, of the person who hoped to become certain things in his 20's still remains, only maybe the man in his 40's knows a bit more about what is worth becoming and what isn't than the guy in his 20's knew. He also reminded me that true friends also want to occupy the space of failure and it's accompanying pain with you, as the true friend knows that pain is sacred, but when shared becomes powerful and life-giving as well.
So, yesterday my friend and I gave a bit more oxygen to each other's dreams, as well as experienced a bit of the life that only pain can bring. We were and are two men still becoming, still hoping for the best, still believing we will find what it is we're looking for, and that we will celebrate those discoveries together.
It was great hearing from you JWD. It was also great to hear from myself.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Rocket Man
Shortly before my 9th birthday (back in the Stone Age of 1969), my dad asked me what gift ideas I had for that year. Since I knew we would be taking our regular summer trip to Florida to see my grandparents, and I knew when we would be there, I told him that I wanted him to take me to Cape Kennedy and let me see the launch of Apollo 11, the first manned space flight to the moon. My birthday is July 15, and the launch was scheduled for the 16th. That morning my dad, my grandfather, my younger brother and myself got up early and headed to the Cape to watch Armstrong, Collins and Aldrin take off on what at the time was considered by some to be an improbable and impossible trip. I can still clearly remember the sight of that space ship in the distance, the roar we heard and the shaking we felt as it lifted off, and then the way the rocket looked against that blue Florida sky. As a then 9 year-old boy, I was absolutely amazed at the sight, as was my then 30 year-old father and my then 52 year-old grandfather (I guess I wasn't paying attention to the reaction of my then 6 year-old brother). No matter what your age, to witness men climbing into a rocket with the intent to land on the moon was something by which you could not help but be amazed, especially if you were there to watch them begin the journey. A few days later, Neil Armstrong summed the whole thing up, as he took his first steps on the surface of the moon, calling it "one small step" for him, and "one giant leap" for the rest of us.
I have always been captivated by the idea of going far, of going where maybe no one else is willing to go, or even thinks possible to get to in the first place. Just this week I have been reminded of my own desire to fly, to explore and to be part of something that is a giant leap for not only myself, but many others. Maybe I've thought about it because I've run up against some more of those people who think going far is neither possible or good. As I look back over my life to this point, I recognize the presence of these people throughout my journey, but it seems they have been especially present over the last decade, with some of them showing up at their cowardly worst over the last few years. In the past few months, some of them have shown up again, reminding me of the fact they have no intention of blasting off into the unknown, and telling me I have no business thinking that I can or should either. One of the most dangerous things these people can do is to vilify those who dream of flight, of exploration and discovery. How selfish/short-sighted/cowardly must a person be who chooses to cover their own fear of the unknown by attacking those who decide that their own fears and uncertainties, no matter how deep they may be, will not keep them from boarding the rocket and strapping in for the ride of their lives? I guess the answer to the question would be, "very."
But, these ground-based critics always seem to gain an audience, and the audience appears to give credibility to the criticism leveled at those who long to see where the rocket will take them. And, no matter who you are or how thick-skinned you might be, the criticism does take a toll over time, especially when those who remain on the ground are convinced that those who they criticize can't feel pain. Or, even worse than that, they could care less about the pain their criticism inflicts. This week has reminded me of how my desire to be on the rocket is perceived as a threat by some people, a threat that in their minds must be contained, if not stamped out completely. To help me better understand this, my wife just this morning compared those of us who desire the adventure of the rocket with the critics and their choice to live their lives on a carousel. Even if there are those who appear to be in the "lead" positions on the carousel, she pointed out to me that they're still doing nothing but going in a circle, "leading" others nowhere. Given the context in which I want to fly, it also appears that the carousel stops every seven days for the "leaders" and their "followers" to celebrate how great it is to be on the carousel.
The point made by my wife that impacted me the most was the fact that in spite of my desire to go where the rocket may take me, I seem to still fall back into needing those on the carousel to give me their approval for being on the rocket in the first place. How ridiculous is that, looking to people who do whatever they can to keep me off of the rocket, as well as to keep the rocket itself on the ground, to finally celebrate me wanting to fly? Ridiculous indeed, and I thank God that once again my amazing wife has pointed out to me what should have already been obvious to me, but I somehow missed.
What is your rocket? What does adventure mean to you? Have you even asked yourself those questions? Or, did you once ask those questions, but have the critics on the carousel caused you to finally abandon your dreams and betray yourself so that you haven't given any thought in a long time to where the rocket might take you? One thing I know about the critics on the carousel...they will be no kinder or affirming to you even if you decide to jump on the carousel with them than they were when they perceived you as a threat to the security of their carousel culture. The more I live, the more I realize that the only people worthy of even hearing your dreams are those who actually know what it means to dream, who refuse to remain on the ground with the rest of those who tell themselves lies every day just to cope with the fact they stopped dreaming a long time ago. The people with whom you know you can share your dreams and who know they can share theirs with you are the ones who know that the small steps taken that lead to giant leaps are not taken on the ground, and most definitely not on the carousel of self-deceit and falsehood.
Plus, I've always thought the music played on those carousels was really lame and creepy.
I have always been captivated by the idea of going far, of going where maybe no one else is willing to go, or even thinks possible to get to in the first place. Just this week I have been reminded of my own desire to fly, to explore and to be part of something that is a giant leap for not only myself, but many others. Maybe I've thought about it because I've run up against some more of those people who think going far is neither possible or good. As I look back over my life to this point, I recognize the presence of these people throughout my journey, but it seems they have been especially present over the last decade, with some of them showing up at their cowardly worst over the last few years. In the past few months, some of them have shown up again, reminding me of the fact they have no intention of blasting off into the unknown, and telling me I have no business thinking that I can or should either. One of the most dangerous things these people can do is to vilify those who dream of flight, of exploration and discovery. How selfish/short-sighted/cowardly must a person be who chooses to cover their own fear of the unknown by attacking those who decide that their own fears and uncertainties, no matter how deep they may be, will not keep them from boarding the rocket and strapping in for the ride of their lives? I guess the answer to the question would be, "very."
But, these ground-based critics always seem to gain an audience, and the audience appears to give credibility to the criticism leveled at those who long to see where the rocket will take them. And, no matter who you are or how thick-skinned you might be, the criticism does take a toll over time, especially when those who remain on the ground are convinced that those who they criticize can't feel pain. Or, even worse than that, they could care less about the pain their criticism inflicts. This week has reminded me of how my desire to be on the rocket is perceived as a threat by some people, a threat that in their minds must be contained, if not stamped out completely. To help me better understand this, my wife just this morning compared those of us who desire the adventure of the rocket with the critics and their choice to live their lives on a carousel. Even if there are those who appear to be in the "lead" positions on the carousel, she pointed out to me that they're still doing nothing but going in a circle, "leading" others nowhere. Given the context in which I want to fly, it also appears that the carousel stops every seven days for the "leaders" and their "followers" to celebrate how great it is to be on the carousel.
The point made by my wife that impacted me the most was the fact that in spite of my desire to go where the rocket may take me, I seem to still fall back into needing those on the carousel to give me their approval for being on the rocket in the first place. How ridiculous is that, looking to people who do whatever they can to keep me off of the rocket, as well as to keep the rocket itself on the ground, to finally celebrate me wanting to fly? Ridiculous indeed, and I thank God that once again my amazing wife has pointed out to me what should have already been obvious to me, but I somehow missed.
What is your rocket? What does adventure mean to you? Have you even asked yourself those questions? Or, did you once ask those questions, but have the critics on the carousel caused you to finally abandon your dreams and betray yourself so that you haven't given any thought in a long time to where the rocket might take you? One thing I know about the critics on the carousel...they will be no kinder or affirming to you even if you decide to jump on the carousel with them than they were when they perceived you as a threat to the security of their carousel culture. The more I live, the more I realize that the only people worthy of even hearing your dreams are those who actually know what it means to dream, who refuse to remain on the ground with the rest of those who tell themselves lies every day just to cope with the fact they stopped dreaming a long time ago. The people with whom you know you can share your dreams and who know they can share theirs with you are the ones who know that the small steps taken that lead to giant leaps are not taken on the ground, and most definitely not on the carousel of self-deceit and falsehood.
Plus, I've always thought the music played on those carousels was really lame and creepy.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Not Paying Attention
Last month the latest American Religious Identification Survey (ARIS) was released. USA Today did a cover story on the findings of the survey. In short, ARIS found that since 1990 almost every religious organization/movement in the United States has experienced slight or even moderate decline as a percentage of overall U.S. population (there were a few exceptions, two of which were Eastern religions and Islam, both of which showed 0.5% and 0.3% increases respectively).
For Christian organizations/movements, the news was almost all bad, with every major denomination or designation showing a loss from 1990-2008. Two groups showing slight increases were the Pentecostal/Charismatic designation, which showed an increase of 0.3% and those groups classified as "Protestant," but not "Mainline Protestant," with an increase of 0.5%.
The two largest Christian groups in America, Catholic and Baptist, both showed decreases. The group that showed the largest increase was the group identified as the "Nones," meaning those who claim no religious affiliation whatsoever. This group comprised 8.2% of the population in 1990. According to ARIS, as of last year the "Nones" now make up 15% of the U.S. population, an increase of 6.8% in the last 18 years. 15% of the population of the United States of America claim no faith system whatsoever. That's pretty stunning.
As I read the article I couldn't help but wonder how the church community would respond to these findings. I will admit I cringed when I speculated about what some of those responses would be, responses I was sure would only show us to be that much further removed from our present-day culture, as well as continuing to show contempt for the very culture to which we claim to have been sent with the transformational message of Jesus Christ. I waited for the evangelical backlash, both among many people I know, as well as from those who are expected to speak publicly when information like ARIS is released. I prayed this wouldn't be one more bloody battle in the culture war so many Christians seem to think somehow furthers the message of Jesus. I waited...and waited...and waited.
Nothing, not a peep. Not a single, "Hey did you see that ridiculous article in USA Today?" Not a single, " I knew this country was going to hell. I can't wait for Jesus to come back and get us out of here!" Nothing. And, since the study was released almost a month ago, I believe I've waited long enough for this survey to make an impact at least on people's conversations. And still, nothing. Nothing against the survey or in defense of it, nothing that sounds like why we should blame the "lost" for their "lostness." Nothing. The silence has been deafening.
So, what is it then to which most American Christians are paying attention? What actually matters to those who claim allegiance to a Savior who told His followers right before He left to cover the world with His message, making new followers of Him everywhere they went? Whatever this latest survey has to say to the Church, it appears we're too busy doing other things to listen. It also appears we're too busy doing things other than following the words of Jesus that have come to be known as His "Great Commission."
Could it be that our pursuit of our "best life now" has us too busy to consider our role in today's fulfillment of that Great Commission? Could it be that many American Christians are so ticked about the fact their guy didn't get into the White House in November that they're just too busy listening to Limbaugh, O'Reilly and Hannity tell them how change all of that in 2012, leaving them no time to get to know their non-Christ-following neighbors, co-workers, and family members in a way that might actually lead to serious discussion about spirituality? Could it be our eschatology is so messed up that we're actually celebrating the fact things are so difficult in our world right now, expecting Jesus to come back and get us out of this mess any moment, ignoring our call to be people of love, justice, mercy, people who are known to focus on those things that are "of a good report?"
While I'm speculating here, I don't think I'm far off the mark in my speculation. The reason the Christian faith is declining in America has nothing to do with those in America who are not Christians. It has everything to do with the fact that many American Christians stopped following Jesus a long time ago, settling for an Americanized idea of Him instead, one that assures our success, happiness, and comfort. This Jesus doesn't exist, and the culture knows He doesn't. I believe they might actually be willing to consider following the real Jesus, if they could actually ever get a look at Him.
How they get a look at Him will be up to Him, as it seems His Church is too busy not paying attention.
For Christian organizations/movements, the news was almost all bad, with every major denomination or designation showing a loss from 1990-2008. Two groups showing slight increases were the Pentecostal/Charismatic designation, which showed an increase of 0.3% and those groups classified as "Protestant," but not "Mainline Protestant," with an increase of 0.5%.
The two largest Christian groups in America, Catholic and Baptist, both showed decreases. The group that showed the largest increase was the group identified as the "Nones," meaning those who claim no religious affiliation whatsoever. This group comprised 8.2% of the population in 1990. According to ARIS, as of last year the "Nones" now make up 15% of the U.S. population, an increase of 6.8% in the last 18 years. 15% of the population of the United States of America claim no faith system whatsoever. That's pretty stunning.
As I read the article I couldn't help but wonder how the church community would respond to these findings. I will admit I cringed when I speculated about what some of those responses would be, responses I was sure would only show us to be that much further removed from our present-day culture, as well as continuing to show contempt for the very culture to which we claim to have been sent with the transformational message of Jesus Christ. I waited for the evangelical backlash, both among many people I know, as well as from those who are expected to speak publicly when information like ARIS is released. I prayed this wouldn't be one more bloody battle in the culture war so many Christians seem to think somehow furthers the message of Jesus. I waited...and waited...and waited.
Nothing, not a peep. Not a single, "Hey did you see that ridiculous article in USA Today?" Not a single, " I knew this country was going to hell. I can't wait for Jesus to come back and get us out of here!" Nothing. And, since the study was released almost a month ago, I believe I've waited long enough for this survey to make an impact at least on people's conversations. And still, nothing. Nothing against the survey or in defense of it, nothing that sounds like why we should blame the "lost" for their "lostness." Nothing. The silence has been deafening.
So, what is it then to which most American Christians are paying attention? What actually matters to those who claim allegiance to a Savior who told His followers right before He left to cover the world with His message, making new followers of Him everywhere they went? Whatever this latest survey has to say to the Church, it appears we're too busy doing other things to listen. It also appears we're too busy doing things other than following the words of Jesus that have come to be known as His "Great Commission."
Could it be that our pursuit of our "best life now" has us too busy to consider our role in today's fulfillment of that Great Commission? Could it be that many American Christians are so ticked about the fact their guy didn't get into the White House in November that they're just too busy listening to Limbaugh, O'Reilly and Hannity tell them how change all of that in 2012, leaving them no time to get to know their non-Christ-following neighbors, co-workers, and family members in a way that might actually lead to serious discussion about spirituality? Could it be our eschatology is so messed up that we're actually celebrating the fact things are so difficult in our world right now, expecting Jesus to come back and get us out of this mess any moment, ignoring our call to be people of love, justice, mercy, people who are known to focus on those things that are "of a good report?"
While I'm speculating here, I don't think I'm far off the mark in my speculation. The reason the Christian faith is declining in America has nothing to do with those in America who are not Christians. It has everything to do with the fact that many American Christians stopped following Jesus a long time ago, settling for an Americanized idea of Him instead, one that assures our success, happiness, and comfort. This Jesus doesn't exist, and the culture knows He doesn't. I believe they might actually be willing to consider following the real Jesus, if they could actually ever get a look at Him.
How they get a look at Him will be up to Him, as it seems His Church is too busy not paying attention.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Rest
Not much to say tonight, mainly 'cause I'm exhausted. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind for sure. Some very high highs, and some very deep lows, with the requisite amount of ridiculous thrown in from some people who have no idea who I am, but are convinced that they do. I think it's all sort of piled up on me, and I've found myself the last few days sort of waiting for someone to tell me I can take an extended time-out. I've needed that time-out for a few years now, and I've been waiting almost as long for someone to insist I take it. Maybe I've been waiting on no one else but myself.
Anyway, I guess all I'm saying is that I'm tired, tired to the bone.
Rest. It sounds so nice. I think I remember what it's like. I hope to remember it again soon.
Anyway, I guess all I'm saying is that I'm tired, tired to the bone.
Rest. It sounds so nice. I think I remember what it's like. I hope to remember it again soon.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Of Blood And Hope
Last month I wrote about being finished with "it," and that I would write later about just what "it" was. "It" is my first book, which is titled STAND. It is a short allegory about an unnamed character who accepts an invitation to begin a journey that brings her both great heartbreak and great transformation. Seems you can't have one without the other. I knew for quite a long time that I was supposed to write a book, but my journey over the last few years, along with an invitation from my good friend Kim Green, showed me last year that I was at the point of making that first book come to life.
One of my favorite writers, Frederick Buechner, wrote many years ago that the writing process was very simple. "You just sit down at your typewriter and open up a vein." The first time I read that quote, it scared me to death, because something inside me was telling me that not only was it true, but that one day I'd know for myself just how true it was. I in no way consider myself anywhere close to being the writer that Buechner is, but I now know the truth of his words, the truth of the process, the truth of pages covered in blood, as well as in hope.
Writing a book, much less telling people that you've written one, seems to be both a simultaneously egocentric and terrifying experience. But it only seems to be those things for a short while. It has become for me more and more an experience of being a good steward of not only any communication gifts I may have been given, but more importantly a good steward of my journey, my story. It seems that all any of us really have to offer each other is our journey and the story that journey produces. It's always surprising to me how some people can't even tell the truth of their story to themselves, much less anyone else. These are the people who level the greatest criticism at those who dare tell the truth of their journey. I've experienced that same criticism in just the short time since STAND has been in print. I don't live in a vanilla, sanitized world. It's a shame that some do, especially since that world doesn't even exist.
I wrote STAND for those who live in the world of color, even when those colors are only black and grey. Maybe it's the black and the grey that produces the opening of the vein about which Buechner has written. But I also believe hope can live even in the middle of our being surrounded by black and grey. If we've known other colors at some point, that knowledge allows us to pour hope over the blood that soaks the pages of our stories. I don't know what color that combination makes, but it's definitely not vanilla.
One of my favorite writers, Frederick Buechner, wrote many years ago that the writing process was very simple. "You just sit down at your typewriter and open up a vein." The first time I read that quote, it scared me to death, because something inside me was telling me that not only was it true, but that one day I'd know for myself just how true it was. I in no way consider myself anywhere close to being the writer that Buechner is, but I now know the truth of his words, the truth of the process, the truth of pages covered in blood, as well as in hope.
Writing a book, much less telling people that you've written one, seems to be both a simultaneously egocentric and terrifying experience. But it only seems to be those things for a short while. It has become for me more and more an experience of being a good steward of not only any communication gifts I may have been given, but more importantly a good steward of my journey, my story. It seems that all any of us really have to offer each other is our journey and the story that journey produces. It's always surprising to me how some people can't even tell the truth of their story to themselves, much less anyone else. These are the people who level the greatest criticism at those who dare tell the truth of their journey. I've experienced that same criticism in just the short time since STAND has been in print. I don't live in a vanilla, sanitized world. It's a shame that some do, especially since that world doesn't even exist.
I wrote STAND for those who live in the world of color, even when those colors are only black and grey. Maybe it's the black and the grey that produces the opening of the vein about which Buechner has written. But I also believe hope can live even in the middle of our being surrounded by black and grey. If we've known other colors at some point, that knowledge allows us to pour hope over the blood that soaks the pages of our stories. I don't know what color that combination makes, but it's definitely not vanilla.
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