Lake Michigan Sunsets

Only I a few days ago, I found myself sitting atop a sand dune, I was looking down onto the beach of Lake Michigan, then up and out at the horizon as the sun set. For some reason, the sun was pushing its orange glow upward, not down. Only ten minutes ago, however, the lake reflected the sun all the way across, like a laser beam.

I was wondering, as I sat watching the sun set: how do cultures develop in relation to the natural environment. I admire how the Native Americans, as a collective whole, developed a cultural philosophy and way of life that sought to live in harmony with nature. They respected the environment and lived as a part of it, as one species in the ecosystem, so to speak.

I suppose that one never knows how a sunset is going to go down. As the sun was sinking, the clouds hid the bottom half, leaving an orange half-circle visible.

In contrast to the Native Americans, Europeans who "settled" the Americas sought to dominate nature, to "subdue" her and extract as much of her resources as possible. With increasingly sophisticated and more powerful technology, it became possible to take more and more. We hunted with a religious fervor, with a fanatical energy. Each generation seeking to better the prior generation. Each new generation seeking to produce more, build more wealth, to become more prosperous, where "prosperity" is measured in terms of profitability.

I suppose that as a theologian, I'm tempted to say that ideas have consequences, then to trace the theological threads that hold together the fabric of a particular cultural zeitgeist. Usually this is my approach--it's the way I'm wired. But to hell with that for now. I think there is more to it, there certainly is; but I don't know how to describe it. (Perhaps that's why it's easier to stick with ideology.) Yet more and more I'm thinking in terms of a "spirit," a more general term that I think does more to capture the holistic sense in which a group of people "live and move and have their being."

What developments led the Native peoples to view their world as a dynamic, interconnected whole? what forces conspired such that the white man became obsessed with domination and control of the natural world? What is the inherited spirit of those who feel the innate drive to consume, whose identity is success-driven and defined within the marketplace? And perhaps we could discuss yet another group of peoples, the Tibetans, who dedicated their culture to spiritual pursuits, to understand the quiet mind, to grow peaceful and serene, to cultivate compassion.

What's the motion of it all? It's all a dynamic movement, because culture is always changing, evolving. I think that from the divine perspective, each cultural era must appear as diverse--and also as fleeting and ephemeral--as a sunset over Lake Michigan.

Haiti Relief

Generosity and giving can result in a certain power over others. Such was the gist of Jean Vanier’s comments in his interview with Krist Tippet on the NPR show “Speaking of Faith.” Vanier is not saying this to be critical or cynical. He is a soft soul. A living saint who founded L’Arche communities where adults with disabilities can live together in love. He is not a cynic, but he ain’t naïve either.

One of the areas of thinking I have been deeply engaged with is the idea of giving. I am writing a book about grace, and I want to push this concept of “unconditional grace.” I don’t want to be a cynic, but I want to ask the hard question of whether or not any grace can truly be “unconditional.” There is a good deal of philosophical discussion that centers on just this point, so there is much about the gift to engage the heart and mind.

Giving, more often than not, puts others in debt. It creates a cycle of reciprocity. Can we escape it? If so, it’s certainly easier said than done! And that’s a fact, Jack. Even despite our best intentions, even if we were to have “pure motives” (which is also debatable), even then a “symbol” is created (to use the philosopher Jacques Derrida’s) in the giving. As such, the idea of “unconditional giving” is easier to conceptualize than practice, and it’s even difficult (yea, even impossible!) to actually find a true-to-life example of purely unconditional giving.

But again, my point in this post is not to approach giving as a cynic.

I was watching the NFL Playoffs last weekend, the rare bit of television viewing I do these days, and I noticed that the networks flashed a number to text for Haiti relief. To give ten dollars to the Haiti relief effort, one only need send a text message to the number. Presumably the process is streamlined such that in minutes (or less, perhaps) one can make a ten dollar donation for the people of Haiti.

I imagine that these efforts brought in many funds, all much needed for the relief efforts. This is a good thing, no doubt. But my suspicions were aroused when I saw the text message giving system on tv. And the answer was obvious to me: why can we (as citizens of the U.S.) give so much to Haiti relief and fail to engage our neighbors in need? By “neighbor” I mean, specifically, the Hispanic population in our small, northern Indiana community. Or the peoples in jail. Or the meth addicts in Syracuse. Or the “poor white trash” who live in the trailer parks scattered throughout the county. That is, there are so many people so close to home who are in need, living desperate lives. So easy to text ten dollars to Haiti and call it a day, says I. Says the part of me whose suspicions have been thoroughly aroused.

But as I mentioned, my point in this post is not to approach giving as a cynic.

In point of fact, I know that many who are involved in the Haiti relief effort are those who want to engage people. Like Jonathan. He’s a pilot. He lives about three quarters of a mile from me. He raises chickens and sells eggs. He’s a political conservative who organizes local tea parties. He is also exhausted from flying his airplane to Haiti and finding ways to get supplies to people who are in desperate, life-threatening need.

Or there’s Kristi. She had a minute a few days ago and sent me some Instant Messages through gmail. She only had a minute, but she had enough time to tell me about how a certain local insurance company is shelling out big bucks. It’s more than just a marketing, image gimmick. Kristi had to roll. She’s helping to organize. Oh, and she is also a political conservative.

I’ll wager there’s a good many stories about a good many good people doing good things. There are many stories of people who are actually engaging this relief effort and the people of Haiti. They care. There are lives touching lives. And let’s be honest, they couldn’t do what they do if it weren’t for all of those impersonal dollars that came rolling in via text message.

Did I mention that my point in this post is not to approach giving as a cynic?

And yet I think that there is still something important to ponder. I think my suspicions are not entirely without cause. The fact is that we forfeit blessings when we live fragmented lives, when we isolate ourselves from the poor and needy, choosing to live most of our lives in the office, with our friends and family, and with neighbors who have the same values and financial means as ourselves. We forfeit blessings because there is a certain human experience that can only be had when we stop for the anonymous stranger in need. We forfeit the opportunity to know love.

When asked by a man-in-the-know about what to do to attain “eternal life,” Jesus replied in a simple way: love God, love your neighbor.

Well said.

The man-in-the-know wanted to push the issue a bit further, to specify and parse words: who is my neighbor? Jesus tells the tale of a certain Samaritan man who found an anonymous stranger laying on the road side (left for dead and passed over by some of the more religiously inclined).

Emmanuel Levinas was a French philosopher who made ethics central to all of philosophy. He talked about “the face of the other.” The other is not just any other, not just any other person. It’s the other. The other that we are suspicious of, the other who threatens us and our way of life; the “Commie Bastard” of the fifties; the Muslim, fundamentalist terrorist of today who wants to destroy the “American way of life”; the meth addict who strips to support her habit, not take care of her kids; the alcoholic beggar in the ghetto who has no intention of changing and just wants to draw welfare. Yeah. That one. That’s our neighbor.

There’s a blessing in knowing those who are in need, those who are broken, those who are poor. There is a blessing in knowing them, in engaging their lives and seeing their face. To do so unconditionally, if that is possible.

Jean Vanier talks about Saint Francis of Assisi. Saint Francis hated lepers. They stunk, so he hated them. Then he visited them and his life was changed. He no longer wanted to live his life for his own esteem and riches. He walked away from a comfortable life in his father’s textile business.

Says Vanier, “We don’t want a God who is hidden in the dirt, in dirty people.”

Loving our neighbor means digging in the dirt for God. What does this mean? It seems to be a blessing found when we do our best to really identify with the other, with the dirty people, with the weak, with the poor. This is not a love based on the powerful helping the weak. This is a resignation of our superiority; it is identifying so closely with those who are in need that we realize how needy we all our. That is, there is a certain blessing only found when we look into the face of those who are most desperate and weak and we see ourselves in them. This is the moment when we are incarnated, like Christ, when we realize that we are that which we have always feared and despised. In this moment, we can then experience the greatest blessing, because we can be set free from what we have always feared and despised in ourselves. As Vanier puts it, we can at that moment welcome our own weakness.

“We don’t know what to do with our own weakness except hide it and pretend it doesn’t exist. So how can we fully welcome the weakness of another if we haven’t welcomed our own weakness?”

It seems to me that when we can fully love a neighbor, in their greatest moment of weakness and brokenness, we can love ourselves. We have engaged the other to the point of identity with them, and at that point our judgments and prejudices against them fall away, along with the many ways that we judge ourselves. This is the beauty in humility.

The Idolatry of Identity

We tend to identify with what is right with us.

Or we tend to identify with what is wrong with us.

Or, some of us are like a ping-pong ball being paddled back and forth between the two: I am bad, I am good, I am bad, I am good.

Various theologies of spiritually tend to identify us with what is wrong: human beings are bad. You are bad. You are totally bad.

For many Christian theologies, our identity as bad people is the reason why we need Jesus. For example, you need your badness to be transferred to someone else.

But.

Is this a truly transformative theology? I mean, humility is important. I understand this. But, is such a negative identity theology truly transformative over the long haul?

On the other side, some theologies (whether religious, New Age, or other) tend to identify us with what is good about ourselves. Actually, truth be told, the Apostle Paul does a good deal of this in his epistles. He talks more about believers identifying themselves as saints, holy, righteous, chosen, loved, etc. than about an identity based on badness. In fact, it is almost to the point that the very definition of a believer is one who believes that he or she is a "new creation."

I think there is something to this, in terms of transformation, but is there something even deeper?

James Finley talks about identifying with what is wrong or right about us. He calls it the “idolatry of identity.”

What we are, says Finley, is “that which arises from a longing for infinite love. Children of infinite love, trapped in the rubble. The illusion is believing that our circumstances define us.”

Finley is in practice as a psychotherapist, working primarily with victims of trauma. He discusses from a therapeutic/counseling perspective the healing and transformation that comes through loving compassion: “always the answer is to touch the hurting part with infinite love.”

From homeless to pilgrim

Last March I posted Spiritually Homeless, an honest reflection of my spiritual journey in and then out of organized religion. I didn't feel I had a place to lay my head, no "home church" or anything similar. But I embraced this reality and in the post from March, I reflected on how being spiritually homeless can truly be a positive and life-giving experience.

For one thing, Jesus was homeless.

I put the post up on my Facebook Notes. (You can try this link to get to it.) The result was more than a hundred comments: various questions, comments, and mostly support and appreciation for a sincere approach to the issue of church. It's no secret that many people are having a more and more difficult time connecting with organized religion in a meaningful and life-giving way.

In the process of all the feedback and discussion, I had an insightful observation made to me by Tamie: You are not spiritually homeless, you are a spiritual pilgrim.

Ah!

So simple.

And yet so true.

For a time period, after I exited the institutional church, I felt lost and homeless: scrambling on the streets to find a meal, take shelter for the night, and scrape up a little money for booze every once in a while.

It was survival mode.

And it was necessary.

And it was good.

"Homeless" is a derogatory term for many. But again, Jesus was homeless. And this sense of being homeless is still important for me. To feel too much like we are at home in the system of the world means that we will never challenge the system, never bring reform, and never be personally transformed into something more noble and beautiful.

Nonetheless, I feel like "pilgrim" is a better description of my current journey. It still carries with it a sense of restlessness and discontent with the status quo: this world is not my home, this system is not my identity. And yet there is a sense of purpose and calling to travel, to make a difference, to challenge the system.

Drumroll, please.......

In some of the upcoming posts, I will try to unravel what a pilgrim looks like in these days and in this system. Together we will dialog about the pilgrim metaphor. In conjunction with this dialog, I will be engaging John Doyle's unpublished novel The Stations. (John is a frequent commentator here at Theos Project, his blog and tag name are Ktismatics.) I have been interested in posting on this novel for quite sometime, but I've been holding off, with the sense that there was more in store for posting on The Stations than just straight exegesis.

The Stations tells the story of a movement of "Salons" that sweep across the nation and the world. These Salons are new approaches to being human that investigate new perceptions that human beings might have of themselves that "portal" them into alternative realities and spiritualities. It is an ambiguous and imaginative novel that stirs up some of the thoughts and questions of pilgrimage.

I would like to combine personal experiences, reflections, and an exegesis of The Salon, mix them together and see what we get.

I think we can generate some energy around the topic of what it might look like to explore this curious sense of displacement that seems inherent for those seeking to live a deeper life of faith, spirituality, or just humanness....to embrace the ambiguity and danger of homelessness while proceeding forward with a pilgrim's sense of calling.

Spiritually Homeless

Picking up in the middle of a recent conversation on my front porch, with a lady from down the street:
Her: ....Oh, and just what is your association with Grace College/Seminary?
Me: In 2000 I graduated from the college with an accounting and business degree and last May I graduated from the Seminary with a Master's degree in theology.
Her: Oh, really. Where do you go to church?
Me: I don't
Her: Really????
[suspicious look, eyebrow raised]
Me: Uhm. Well. I'm exploring what faith looks like outside of institutional Christianity.
Her: Do you think that's biblical.
Me: Hhhmmmm.....yes, I do, actually.
Her: Are you looking for a home church?
Me: No.
Her: I see. You know, I have a good author to recommend to you....he really helps get at hidden sins that hold us back in life....

Oh, and in the above dialog, you can fill in an awkward pause after just about each of my responses.

Ever since I terminated my church attendance a year or two ago, I have felt a certain internal pressure to "belong" to something that, while perhaps not a "church" in the traditional sense, is at least something of the church variety. That way, I can avoid the awkward kinds of dialogs listed above and be able to have something substantial to reply to family and friends: I may not be doing the institutional thing, but I've got something else that's just as good!

In this post, however, I hereby officially resign any concern with having to replace traditional church with something that is sort-of-churchy. This is probably of no major surprise to those of you who follow this blog and have read my posts. (See, most recently, Merging and Submerging and Pay-as-you-go Church.)

My thought here is that perhaps "the church" is best looked at as a way of life rather than a membership to a particular group, an inclusive embrace of the world rather than an exclusive commitment to a particular organization/institution or even a specific group.

I want to ask the question: What happens if I have no "core" membership into an exclusive group?

I wanted to write this post to discuss the pros and cons of simply leaving traditional church and not replacing it with anything. In order to do so, I thought, "Hhhmmmm....Jon, you do a few of the things that Christians and churches do. So, perhaps you should list these things for your blogging audience." Good suggestion, I thought. And then as I compiled my list, an intriguing thought came to my mind: I'm not entirely sure that I have time for church, because I'm busy enough doing things that churches usually do. I'm sure that sounds a bit condescending, thought I don't mean it to be.

Here is my list:

a) I have a small group of friends with whom I am very relationally close. For most of us, our faith is an important aspect of our lives, in one way or another. However, we do not meet for a traditional "service." We have no organized, regular meetings scheduled. Most are one-on-one or small group get togethers that we initiate in order to be involved with each other's lives.
b) I meet once a week with a friend for theological discussion. (Currently we are discussing Romans.)
c) I am considering attending liturgical services (only once in a while!) with my friend Tamie when she moves to Indiana.
d) I discuss spiritual issues with my friends, neighbors, and family in many different, informal settings.
e) I blog.....and as we have discussed, blogs are a form of communal gathering, albeit of the virtual variety. (And, yes, I know, I have been a very bad blogger this year, in 2009!)
f) I meet once every two weeks with some Pastor friends.....we are all kind of missionaries to each other: I am trying to help them see the errors of their institutional ways and they are trying to bring me back into the fold of the Christian sheep.
g) Many of the folks listed above know me very well and provide a sense of caring for my soul, and visa-versa

So, what are the ramifications of just dropping, altogether, the idea of "belonging" to any particular fellowship/church/church group?

A few potential positive outcomes:

First, it would seem to more closely resemble the spirit of the early Acts church, where people of faith just kind of got together at each other's houses to eat and talk about what was happnen' with the whole Jesus thing. There's no indication that the same groups met at each gathering (like the contemporary "small group" ministries or "house churches") or that they had to start a particular ministry for this purpose.

Second, and a follow up to the first: allowing fellowship to be spontaneous seems to relieve the pressure to maintain an organization. This means that organizations/institutions cease when the S/spirit ceases.

The third positive feature that I can see is that if we scrap the church thing altogether, it seems as though hierarchy is kept at a minimum. With institutions/organizations comes hierarchy. That makes the power dynamic more of a factor than it should be. Power is always at work, of course, but within institutions/organizations the power plays are normative, regulative, and from my experience they suck the freedom and life out of a person.

How about objections to my eclectic approach?

First, and most damning I think, is that this approach seems to facilitate fragmentation. It is difficult in America to have a whole self. Our self gets divided between a lot of different areas, making it quite easy to hide ourselves or to just allow ourselves to become neglected. There is work self, home self, hang-with-the-friends self, go-to-church self, online self, and sometimes several different versions of the self within each of the above. When one combines this with our fast-paced American lifestyle, the result is a psycho-spiritual multiple personality disorder and a lack of any sense of wholeness.

I don't know that belonging to one, core church group really solves this problem, though, quite honestly. This fragmentation is complex and related to the system within which we operate. It is one of the major human challenges we face as Americans. However, while a church probably won't fix this and often makes the matter worse, the fact is that it is difficult to live holistically on one's own. Community can help.

The other objection that comes to my mind is quite difficult to articulate. It comes from the sense and general feeling that we should have some sort of religious core group. Without it, we just get the feeling (many of us) that we lack a center or a foundation. This feeling is difficult to describe or define. It starts, perhaps, with those of us that are used to attending services every week and having a religious place and space that is our own. We belong to a group, and the presence of such a group provides a psychological stability to our lives. It becomes an identity thing. Leaving the church opens a void.

But what if we embraced the void? What if we gave up our foundationalist instinct to find a center and just let be?

I think that if we could do so, then we would be forced to live faith without being able to fall back on an institution/organization/membership for security. We could then allow sacred spaces to open up naturally and organically as the spirit moves.

Most importantly, without a center or foundation, the us-versus-them exclusivistic attitude becomes more difficult to maintain. "Having a home church" means that one is "in," right? And those who don't are out. What if we were all out? What if we were all in? What if that didn't matter so much, anymore?

NOT having a church makes one live faith each moment for the moment, it does not allow for a psychological religious stabilizer.

According to some, the American institutional church and its related educational establishments may be on the verge of complete collapse in the upcoming decades. No one can tell for certain, of course. But statistics are pointing in this direction, and many people of faith are just finding that the churches lack depth and soul. I don't say this to create another us-versus-them dynamic; I don't say this because I think all churches suck. I think churches do great things and have done great things. Seriously. I mean that. However, I am just finding spiritual homelessness to be the way that I roll these days, and I'm wondering if that doesn't have a lot of advantages. And I am wondering if there are others who do the same.....and I am wondering if there are others who should do the same.

Churches and Christian institutions tend to settle, and when they settle they tend to become complacent. Doesn't have to be that way, but that's just an observation that seems to hold in many cases. It seems that churches and Christian institutions established themselves in the 20th century as a place to settle and protect the faith. The spiritually homeless may find themselves a bit unsettled, but perhaps this only makes it all the more necessary for us to make faith real at all moments.

Don't get me wrong, I still believe in working toward communities of freedom, as I have previously said: As human beings, we cannot flourish without each other, without being in community, but we cannot grow in community unless that same community sets us free. (Fellowship and the Freedom of the Self) It is a paradoxical situation. But perhaps the spiritual drifters like myself can be more open to allowing sacred spaces of freedom to open up where they may be least expected. Isn't this what Jesus did, at least to some degree?? What does it mean that "this world is not our home"? Often, church and religion seem to be investing much of their time, money, and energy into making a home for themselves. Is this the calling? Is this the Gospel that transforms?

So, in this post, I am declaring myself to be spiritually homeless, and I think that there is alot of potential for this to be a good thing. Furthermore, I am hereby giving up my sense--that nagging whisper that's kind of always in the back of my mind--that I need to be "doing something" in an established group.

Closer to God

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7cQkg1ZAZs


You're the only tie that binds my heart
Away from you I'm falling apart
We need to be closer than we are

Sanctus Real
Closer
Fight the Tide

I'm not alright, I'm broken inside
Broken inside
And all I go through, it leads me to you
Leads me to you
Closer to you
Closer to you
Closer to you

I'm not alright I'm broken inside
Broken inside
I'm broken inside, Broken inside
And all I go through leads me to you
Leads me to you

I'm not alright, I'm not alright
I'm not alright ... that's why I need you.
Sanctus Real
I'm not alright
The Face of Love


One of the lessons taught me during my time in Christian evangelical circles was that one needed to pursue God, to be "close to God." Being close to God meant peace; being close to God meant that you were okay; the presence of God was to be pursued, the absence of God, eschewed.

But....does God really want to be close to us? I ask a serious question here.

Should we exist in a relentless pursuit of God's presence in our lives? Again, though many Christians take this to be an unquestionable axiom, I am raising the question, and I am doing so not simply for sake of argument.

I have previously posted on Peter Rollins, a/theology, and other explorations of negative theology. The idea is basically that I question the assumption (held almost without question in most evangelical circles) that the presence of God should be privileged over his absence....I oppose this assumption, at least, as some sweeping, categorical formula....what if God truly desires to be absent from us for a while? Would that be okay? What if there is nothing broken or wrong with us when God is absent? What if, in fact, such absence were a positive aspect of spiritual formation?

In a very real way, we can never escape the presence of God because he always surrounds us. God is really unknowable, truly transcendent, and yet She/He surrounds us at all times: "'For in him we live and move and have our being.'"

It may very well be that the presence of God heals and repairs....and it may very well be that the absence of God breaks and damages us....but I don't think these things hold absolutely. There is surely something wrong with faith when it obsesses about the presence of God. Exploring the absence of God is a means of knowing God that cannot be understood if God is present. When those we love are absent, our love grows in a unique way, love grows in the absence, and in the absence we learn more about ourselves and our relation to those we love; we learn more about the love itself; we desire the presence of the absent one; we cultivate an isolated and present-less desire.

Absence can be necessary also from the perspective of distance in order to understand our doubts and fears of God. When dealing with his people at Mt. Sinai, God appeared as a God of distance--to be feared and respected. While I'm not sure I understand the logic of such a move, I raise the issue because God himself seems to create distance from those he loves. Similarly, I think there are times when we need distance from God simply to attempt to reckon with inner doubt and faithlessness.

In short, I think that cultivating the absence of God seems to be invaluable in knowing God: we know God in presence and we know God in absence. Theologies and spiritual teachings that perpetuate God's presence as the supreme experience of spirituality feels very unhealthy to me, at this point in my life.

Thoughts?

When my love was away,
Full three days were not sped,
I caught my fancy astray
Thinking if she were dead,

And I alone, alone:
It seem'd in my misery
In all the world was none
Ever so lone as I.

I wept; but it did not shame
Nor comfort my heart: away
I rode as I might, and came
To my love at close of day.

The sight of her still'd my fears,
My fairest-hearted love:
And yet in her eyes were tears:
Which when I question'd of,

'O now thou art come,' she cried,
''Tis fled: but I thought to-day
I never could here abide,
If thou wert longer away.'
Absence by Robert Bridges

Not a Christian Church

So, a few months back, I scribbled down some ideas for the ragtag small group to which I belong....I was wondering what I might come up with if I jotted down some of the values that I think are important for our group. My original thought was to discuss it with our group and see if they wanted some points around which to rally---something to define us.

I scrapped the idea shortly after I jotted down my thoughts, not wanting to seem like we had any kind of creed or dogma. However, I scanned my handwritten thoughts (only two short pages) and saved it as a .pdf document, if you would like to take a peak. (Please pardon the poor handwriting!)

The three values I find important are:
Community/love/fellowship
Changing the world
Providing an environment of radical freedom

I call the whole thing "Not a Christian Church."

http://erdman31.googlepages.com/NotaChrChurch.pdf

Thinking about Gratitude

prayer at its very core is an intentional being-with god. just being with; not demanding anything at all. prayer is listening, and it is silence, and being still while allowing oneself to be held, and transformed.....

prayer and gratitude are both ways of being in the world. they are not activities we do; they aren't even attitudes we aquire. they are shifts in our very way of being. ((to use the big words.) to learn a posture of gratitude is to accept a shift in one's ontology--or maybe i should say a realignment with one's original ontology.)

in this way, gratitude is infinitely harder than we imagine because it requires so much more of us than noticing pleasant occurances and being thankful for them.....

- Tamie, Thinking about Gratitude

Shaken not stirred

This from Hebrews 12:

You have not come to a mountain that can be touched and that is burning with fire; to darkness, gloom and storm; 19to a trumpet blast or to such a voice speaking words that those who heard it begged that no further word be spoken to them, 20because they could not bear what was commanded: "If even an animal touches the mountain, it must be stoned." 21The sight was so terrifying that Moses said, "I am trembling with fear."

22But you have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, 23to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the judge of all men, to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, 24to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.

25See to it that you do not refuse him who speaks. If they did not escape when they refused him who warned them on earth, how much less will we, if we turn away from him who warns us from heaven? 26At that time his voice shook the earth, but now he has promised, "Once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens." 27The words "once more" indicate the removing of what can be shaken—that is, created things—so that what cannot be shaken may remain.

28Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe, 29for our "God is a consuming fire." [NIV, emphasis added]

I find this passage profound, because the writer places fear of God in a new context. First, he explains old way: God storms at the people from the mountain. In the old covenant, when God was near he was also very distant. The people trembled when God came near. He spoke from the storm and with fury.

This old way is in contrast to the new covenant: angelic glory, joyful assembly, redemption through Christ's blood. The comparison yields the conclusion: there is something better in the new way.

But the new way of joy and redemption begs the question of what place the fear of God may have. For the writer, the answer seems obvious: in light of what you are receiving, worship appropriately, namely, with reverence and awe. He then suggests the consistency between the old and new way: our God is a consuming fire.

The book of Hebrews is fascinating, because the author is reworking the entire Old Testament into a new framework. Sometimes the old fits well in the new; at other times the old needs to be radically recontextualized. In Hebrews 12, the constant is the God of a consuming fire; but the context is new. It is a unique Christological context. So, even the God of consuming fire is recontextualized.

Personally, I deeply appreciate the grace and joy of the Christian life; it is something I am only beginning to realize, I think. I try to start over with each new day: today I am a new Christian who is just now experiencing God's grace for the first time.

Yet as much as I love walking in God's grace, I also appreciate the moments when I can tremble in God's presence. Both God's grace and his consuming fire relate to his presence and nearness. God remains mysteriously non-disposable. In other words, there is no formula to conjur up his presence. He just appears. Or disappears. I don't mean to suggest that we should not seek him, but only that God is often like Lewis's Aslan in that he so often refuses to be compartmentalized or used. He resists the economics of market exchange where we can pay a price for a product that we consume for our own use. Nay, in fact, if there is an economics at work, then the reverse seems to be the case: it is God who is the consumer, the consuming fire. In many ways, it is we who are at his disposal.

Spiritual Experience

Sometimes the desire to have a spiritual experience is the best way not to have one.

It's possible to force the matter and lose the Spirit by grasping.

Colonizing Mars

For thousands of years, the human race has spread out across the Earth, scaling mountains and plying the oceans, planting crops and building highways, raising skyscrapers and atmospheric CO2 levels, and observing, with tremendous and unflagging enthusiasm, the Biblical injunction to be fruitful and multiply across our world's every last nook, cranny and subdivision.

An invitation.

Earth has issues, and it's time humanity got started on a Plan B. So, starting in 2014, Virgin founder Richard Branson and Google co-founders Larry Page and Sergey Brin will be leading hundreds of users on one of the grandest adventures in human history: Project Virgle, the first permanent human colony on Mars

The day the music died

"American Pie" is a rock song by singer-songwriter Don McLean.

Recorded and released on the American Pie album in 1971, the single was a number-one U.S. hit for four weeks in 1972. The song is an abstract story of his life that starts with the deaths of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J. P. Richardson (The Big Bopper) in a plane crash in 1959, and ends in 1970. The importance of "American Pie" to America's musical and cultural heritage was recognized by the Songs of the Century education project which listed the song performed by Don McLean as the number five song of the twentieth century.

The song's lyrics are the subject of much curiosity. Although McLean dedicated the American Pie album to Buddy Holly, none of the singers in the plane crash are identified by name in the song itself. When asked what "American Pie" meant, McLean replied, "It means I never have to work again."[1] Later, he more seriously stated "You will find many 'interpretations' of my lyrics but none of them by me... sorry to leave you all on your own like this but long ago I realized that songwriters should make their statements and move on, maintaining a dignified silence." [From Wikipedia, entry "American Pie," accessed 3/24/08]

For ten years we've been on our own
and moss grows fat on a rolling stone
but that's not how it used to be

It was during a Grace College chapel in the fall of 1996, if I recall correctly, that tears were in my eyes. Though I do not recall the song, I do remember that the words and the music seemed to sink into my skin and run through my veins.

The worship session was student led.

I was from a small country church in the middle of nowhere. We sang hymns while someone played the piano. But this music was different, and the impact was real for me.

Can music save your mortal soul?

I feel that back in those days God used the worship settings to lead me into a deeper commitment. There was something sacred in those times, back then. I don't want to romanticize the past, or to suggest that the time period was perfect; but I do know that there was something more real than what I now experience when I listen to Christian radio stations or attend a worship service.

I went down to the sacred store where I'd heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn't play

But something happened over the years. Worship music is now the standard. It is routine and bland. Anymore, it seems as though I am just going through the motions.

These days not everyone has the right to play worship music. You have to buy the right, the copyright that is.

I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died

You also need some kind of an in to play the music these days. Christian music is big business, and worship music is a really big pull. You can take God on the go with you on your ipod or in your big and safe SUV. The local Christian music station tells me that contemporary Christian music is the fastest growing genre of music on the market.

We have market value now.

But I think that the music is dead.

We all got up to dance
But we never got our chance

I can still feel the feelings. I can still muster up a worship-type emotion in these worship settings. But what does this mean, anymore? I don't own these feelings, because the corporations have the copyrights.

I can get the right kind of feelings, but why is is that I no longer feel truly inspired? It's all so hollow now. Why is this?

And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire the most
The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
They caught the last train to the coast
The day the music died

Is God really amongst us in our worship services, anymore?

The serpent on the pole saved the people: they looked on it and they lived. But later King Hezekiah destroyed the serpent on the pole because the Israelites had begun to worship it. It was an idol. Is this what worship music has become now? Now that it is the fastest growing genre of music on radio? Is worship music the newest version of the serpent on the pole?

Just because we call a music "Christian" doesn't mean it has anything to do with Christ.

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news

Why does worship music no longer inspire me??? Is God gone? Is he wanting to work in a new way? If so, is it possible that the music in the way? That we are so saturated with it that it has become trivial and trite?

A diamond ring is a highly valued possession. Part of the reason it is valued is because it is a rare jewel. But what if it weren't rare? What if diamond rings were as common as lolly pop rings? What if we could buy a diamond ring for a quarter out of a vending machine? If you could buy a diamond ring for a quarter, then it would be a neat little novelty. I think that's what worship music is to me these days: a neat little novelty.

The Church of the Underground

I was recently in a mood to write out a list of concise thoughts summarizing my thinking on the body of Christ in our current 21st century American context. These are also the result of some of the blogging that I have been doing on the body of Christ.

I classify all of these as being a return to the simple goals and objectives of the church; the church going underground.

1. Get the money out of the church
No more of the Big Green or the Bling Bling. No more big budgets, paid pastors who view ministry as a career path, no more expensive and divisive building projects, no more bright lights and neon signs, no more marketing and advertising budgets. Anything that needs doing can be done by those who give their time sacrificially.

2. The church is not a building
The church should go underground. If others do not know you are a part of the body of Christ based on your life, then you didn't have anything substantial to offer, anyway. Ask this: If a church didn't have a big sign, a building, a budget, or anything else that people could see, then what would be left? If the church goes underground, as I suggest, then the only thing that the body of Christ would have to display is their personal lives and the way they treat each other.

3. Anything "spiritual" that you say should come from pain
Words in these days are so meaningless. People really just don't care about religious talk anymore. Please use religious-speak very sparingly. No more repeating meaningless dogma. If a belief you have has not caused you pain as you have wrestled with its truth, then it isn't a real belief; it's just renting space in your head. I advise silence: Let God speak in a still small voice.

4. Get simple
In Galatians, Paul said, "The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love."

5. Don't try to make converts
We don't need more Christians in the United States. We have enough people running around claiming this label. It's a term that has been so overused as to be completely worthless and counterproductive. I mean it. The language is banal. Don't use it. Don't proselytize. Make people curious. Everybody's got some kind of religion these days. If someone is truly seeking and is truly interested, then you'll know. Trust me.

6. Small-scale brotherhood
The masses ain't where it's at when it comes to relationships that count. These are the Hebrews 3:13 relationships that can save us from hardness of heart and can keep our paradigms open.

7. Scripture must live again
Most of the Bible was not written as timeless truth. God's Word was mostly for the Now. This means that Scripture is now for our Now. That is, if you understand the Word you have only done about half of what needs to be done. The Word only matters if it is meaningful for the contemporary context. A hermeneutic similar to that used by Paul and the author of Hebrews should be used as a norm to guide us in our interpretation and appropriation of the Scripture. In short, if your Bible isn't changing you, then get rid of it!

8. Burn the Bibles
The irony of American Christianity is that it seems as though the increase in the quantity of Bibles has resulted in a proportional decrease in the Bible's significance and ability to change hearts and lives. I recommend some Bible burning so that we can, perhaps, appreciate it again and read it anew. I suggest we destroy the extra paper in the name of preserving the meaningfulness of the text. Bible-making is a business for us in America, not a sacred transmission of truth.

9. Dare God to Work
It just strikes me that a good deal of those of us in America want to control God's work. That is, we want to develop mission statements and goals and objectives that we can measure and achieve. It's something of a corporate model. But honestly, I really don't think God is doing all that much in America. Sorry, but that's my opinion. I think it's time to stop trying and just pray; but pray in such a way that we dare God to move. Let it all ride on whether God decides to act. Just dare him.

10. Openness, openness, openness
Vulnerability within the body of Christ. Without it, all you have is religious duty.

11. Live dangerously
What might our faith look like if we took risks? What if we took intellectual risks and followed our minds when they started to ask questions? Even heretical questions? (Especially heretical questions?) What would faith look like if we took risks with our emotions? Our time? Our money? Even our physical bodies--Putting ourselves in harms way??? You don't have much time. Really. Your life is like a puff of smoke. Do something dangerous.

12. Do the Church Hop
Why not hop around and visit many different worship settings and interact with diverse believers??? Take a different church each Sunday and explore. This would bring the body of Christ together and help eliminate the divisions that buildings, budgets, and 501(c)3's create. Let's unite believers together by appreciating difference.

13. Get rid of the Org
While we are on the subject, ditch the 501(c)3 thing. The body of Christ does not exist as a Schedule A write-off for your 1040 Individual Income Tax Return.

14. Give generously
No. Give dangerously. And give to stuff you believe in. Don't just go through the motions of writing a check each week and dropping it in a plate. How generic is that??!!?

15. Start over every day
The Psalmist says that God's mercies are new every morning. So, why not look for them? In Christ the deeds of the past are no longer counted for or against us. The good and bad is nothing to ponder, anymore. Each day is about you and the Spirit of God. Period. I'm tired of being a "mature" believer. I'd rather be a hungry, young believer.

16. You have everything you need
Sure, books, sermons, DVD's, mp3's, etc. can be helpful. But let's ditch the Paperback Pope. If you've got issues/questions/struggles/opportunities the best thing to do is realize that the Spirit within is the main thing. Be rational and reflective. Trust yourself. Try. Fail. Love. Grow. Progress. Regress. You don't need to be a John Piper (or fill in the blank) Groopie.

17. Learn from nonbelievers
They probably know more than you.....ok, maybe it depends on what's on the table. The sharp divide between Believer/Unbeliever is overrated, in my opinion.

18. Make a mess
Many American churches look great on the surface. Really. We can have great worship experiences, hear good sermons, and have nice outreach programs. But in my opinion the body of Christ should be a community where one's ugliest sides of life are just as important to know as the good stuff. Most of us just bury it all inside; nobody really cares, anyway, so we all just deal. My thought: You aren't in real fellowship until other believers know the real you. So, make a mess of things. It's ok to live in a messy church.

The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself in love.

McChurch

There are many ways in which McDonald's represents America in the 20th century. One might say that it has been a fundamental institution for our society. Growing out of the Industrial Age, it was birthed from our need for speed - a turbo-charged culture with no more time for substantive meals. If you don't have time to dedicate to food, eat McFood. After all, it tastes great, its cheap, and its always ready when you want it. Food is the ultimate consumptive item in our culture of Consumerism. We can hardly think of it in any other way - it is merely a product to be desired or a means to an end. McFood is stimulating, fun, and you can eat while you are doing any number of things.

One thing that Qohelet (the voice in the book of Ecclesiastes) is concerned with is eating and drinking and finding pleasure in living out these very organic facets of life. (i.e. 2:24) The life well-lived is one where a person attains contentment with the simple life and with the very basic and rudimentary tasks of getting along. This, of course, is not a concept that fit well in our society. Eating and drinking is too mundane: We must do it faster; we must do it with more stimulating tastes; we must see the lights of the golden arches and be stimulated by ads for the latest tasty product.

Church leaders in America (particularly of the conservative stripe) often lament the fact that American Christians do the "church hop," as it is called. Church hopping is America's Consumeristic approach to religion. We shop for a product we like, and once we find the satisfying product we are willing to give them our time and a bit of our money.

But who is at fault for the church hopping religious consumers?

When I go to McDonald's I do not approach the restaurant with anything but a consumeristic frame of mind. McDonald's has set themselves up as a place to get your food and go. They have no expectations that I will invest anything into the company. It is a business transaction: I pay them money and they give me the food, fast.

But isn't church set up much like a McDonald's? Do we not operate on the basis of giving people some spirituality (via the form of a sermon and/or a worship experience) in small bites and then sending them on their merry way? The more I examine the nature of the American church the more I see significant parallels between church and McDonald's. This is what makes me think of church as "McChurch." We have marketed our spirituality for mass consumption.

Think I'm joking about all of this???? Let me give you the raw stats, baby. After all, this is still the age of science!

How much time do you spend getting your food from McDonald's and consuming your meal? Well, you've got to pull up to a drive-through, wait a minute or two, place your order, wait another minute and BAMO, you've got your McFood. Then, of course, you eat and go about your business. So, how much time? Maybe, like, 20 minutes? That sounds about right for a start-to-finish time frame. If there are 1,440 minutes in a day, then this means that a 20 minute investment in a McMeal at McDonald's takes up 1.389% of your day. How significant is that 1.389%? Probably not very. McDonald's is marketed for a fast experience, not a meaningful one.

And none of us really expect that spending 1.389% of our day on a meal is going to have a profound experience on our day. If we did expect that, then our expectations would be unreasonable and poorly placed.

But not things get very interesting. How much time do we spend in "church" each week? Well, all things considered, probably 2 or 3: We drive to service, listen to the message, maybe catch a sunday school, and then drive back home. Let's be generous and say 3 hours. There are 168 hours in a week, which results in christians spending 1.786% of their week doing the church thing. We beat out our McDonald's run by .4%, but we are still under 2% of our time spent in church.

So, let's ask a question: Can we really expect something to impact our lives if we spend less than 2% of our time on it??? We don't expect much from a McFood meal from McDonald's, so why should we expect anything more from a McService at our local McChurch?

To be perfectly honest, I think I am at the point where I applaud the church hop. Let people keep hoping in and out of our McChurches. If we run them like a McDonald's, then why should the Consumer have his or her own choice? We don't criticize people for choosing Burger King or Taco Bell and hoping around to other fast food restaurants, so why do we expect that McChurching would be any different?

Most pastors minister like they were managers at a local McDonald's. They give spiritual fast food for the masses. Until they begin offering substance, and until they stop emphasizing a sunday morning service as the ultimate solution to all of our spiritual woes, then people will keep church hoping, and for good reason. Keep hoping. Maybe someday the leaders will understand: the church hop is your fault.

And this is not just a polemic against the "evil, non-biblical" churches. The same McChurch approach permeates even the "good Bible believin'" churches as well. The only difference is that we think that a good Bible sermon each week is the basis of spiritual growth. But it isn't. This is still spiritual fast food.

I close with an appropriate story. And, believe it or not, it is actually true:

A teacher was working with children in a school to help them pronounce the "ch" sound. She was looking for words that would help he children say, "ch." So, the teacher said, "Ok, where do you go on Sunday mornings to worship God?" The response? One little guy pipes up and enthusiastically shouts out, "McDonald's!!!"

"God did not make Adam and Steve"

Over at "Not That There's Anything Wrong With That!" Sam presented us with the following scenario:

Here's the thing: John comes to church, he is a new convert. The pastor asks him after the service to tell a bit about himself and he says that he is a successful businessman, basically an agnostic, who has been feeling a sense of conviction for some time and started reading the bible and decided that he believes in Jesus, that Jesus is his savior.

The pastor is really excited. A new convert, someone who can be discipled!

Then he says that after having been in love for 2 years, finally, 5 years ago he married Jack and they have one adopted child Julie, that they got from Sri Lanka, who is now 4 years old.

What/how would you want your pastor to continue the conversation? [1]

The above situation reminds me of various mission efforts to the Native Americans a century or two back. As I understand it, certain missionaries encountered polygamy among various tribes. They elicited converts to Christianity and then had a problem: there were families with multiple wives and children from these wives. The problem? Polygamy is a sin. The solution? "Send away the slave woman!"[1] So, they had to pick a wife, perhaps the first one they married, and send the other(s) away with their children. As I understand it, this created a great deal of difficulty and poverty for the families that were sent away and had no means of supporting themselves.

The above "solution" strikes me as cruel and shortsighted. But what then do we do with Sam's "Adam and Steve" scenario of the new convert (John) who brings to the church a relationship with Jack that involves a child, Julie?

My primary thought is that the American church has very little organizational capacity for correctly and compassionately engaging John and his family. For example, the current church model is that believers meet on Sunday morning and may or may not have other "ministries" or "programs" that they are a part of. So, basically, if you believe that homosexuality is wrong or perhaps not the best way to do things, then you have to ship the guy (in this scenario, John) off to "counseling" (or some other such ministry/program) or else you just kind of lay down the law (in a nice way) and say that we don't do things that way in these here parts so you can shape up or ship out.

So, we either have to issue an ultimatum or else send John to counseling. In the former situation I think we force a hasty decision on a new believer that he may not be entirely ready to deal with, in all of its many ramifications (i.e. the moral issue, issues of family/love, caring for a daughter, splitting a home, etc.). In the case of sending him to counseling right away this makes him feel freakish from the very beginning, and this is very unfair. The fact is that anyone who comes to Christ is going to have baggage, and they need a close-knit community and a group of individuals to share their faith with and to work through baggage that they bring in and baggage that they accumulate while being a believer. (The little-known secret, of course, is that most of us in nice churches have even more baggage that usually gets lost in the shuffle, and my experience is that you accumulate quite a bit of baggage in church circles because we often do not have the contexts for dealing real issues.)

The point thus far is simply to say that the current Sunday morning Christianity in America has no human or even biblical way to appropriately deal with Sam's scenario because we are an event-oriented institution. At our most fundamental level we are not relational. At our most fundamental level we are institutional and obsessed with "events."

Ideally, all believers are not simply a hodge-podge group of people that meet once a week to sing and watch a sermon. Rather, the best scenario that I can see would be that when John enters into a fellowship of believers he is immediately plugged in with a group of believers with whom he can meet regularly and begin to share his life. In fact, in my mind's eye I imagine that it was probably through contact with this group of believers that he was able to come to faith, rather than on Sam's scenario where the guy happens across a Bible and starts reading.

Within this very small group of caring believers John can begin to explore who he is with people who are ready to care for his soul and impart grace into his life. These would be people who would be primarily interested in getting to know John, the person, and finding out what faith looks like for his situation. They would be interested in John, regardless of where they stood on the homo issue. If they believed that God stands against homosexuality, they would present their reasons and interact with various biblical passages. But then they would allow John the respect as a fellow believer to work through these issues himself. (This fulfills the Galatians 6 "bear each other's burdens" exhortation, as well as the Philippians 2 encouragement to "work out your salvation.") Furthermore, this caring yet insightful group of believers would suspend judgment and allow themselves to reexplore and reexamine an issue that needs to be reexamined.

In John's case there is no simple "solution," the matter requires time and care. I would also suggest that the answer is not clear, either. In the case of the Native Americans, I would suggest that the missionaries should have continued to allow the practice of polygamy for those who already had multiple wives. The alternative brought pain and disruption to the existing family and culture. One could move the people towards monogamy, but this would be a movement over time.

This same line of reasoning must be a part of the consideration of John's relationship with Jack and to their daughter Julie. John needs to have room to understand his scenario for himself and in relation to all of the various facets of his life. He needs to take the time to explore and discuss with a group of believers who can get to know him and minister with him over a period of months and years.

Unfortunately, Sam's scenario cannot be answered in the existing church framework. One is hard pressed to find an American church that truly acts in unison as the body of Christ. We have many "churches" but no body. And the sad thing is that there is no reason for someone like John to ever have any interest in Jesus Christ, because the Body of Christ is completely impotent. We have nothing to call John to - no true community or real fellowship. So, as unfortunate as it is, I believe that Sam's scenario remains an impossible quandary. Until the power of Christ is displayed in authentic relationships and true community we should expect very little.

Kids of Haiti

My friend, Sara, went to Haiti this summer to help with summer camps. (You can read some about her trip on her blog.)

Here are some videos of the kids she worked with. They wrote the following rap themselves over the course of the summer camp and are here performing it.

The Body

I often times feel inside my heart that preaching Christianity is useless....sorry, just using my blog to be honest here....perhaps I feel that more and more as time goes on. There are so many varieties of religion in the world, and so many fantastic versions of the Xtian faith that I tend to get a bit depressed. For example, if I had my past memory sucked out of my mind, where would I be? Besides having a difficult time remembering where to go to the bathroom (and why bathrooms are such a big deal, anyway) what would I think of Christianity? It's a question one can't answer because what we are has so much to do with our past. But would I give Christ a second look with all of the competing world views flying around in this world?

Not that there won't always be a place for religion at the table of ideas and feelings. People are always looking for something greater than themselves, are they not? Hence Christianity becomes Xianity - Christ drops out and we make it what we will, an "opiate for the masses" as the old man once said.

Right now, on this evening, as I listen to Amy Winehouse's new blues-inflected pop sounds and rest my knee from yesterday's brutal half marathon I honestly think there is only one thing that would make me consider giving Christ a second look. That is power. Power primarily demonstrated by the living body of Christ. Christ must be more than a savior who rose some two thousand years ago, rather, he must be alive and active. Moving, living and breathing in a community of people who love each other and move gracefully towards ethical purity and personal authenticity.

As such, power is found not in the grand building projects of the church or in the full stadiums or in the marches on Washington. This strikes me more as Xianity. Christ moves aside for the greater benefit of the large-scale projects. And if Christ were to get in the way of the project, well, all the worse for Christ.

But I find the greatest need for power to accomplish the simple things of the faith. The high calling is not to a large scale, but to a small scale. Love. Unity. Community. Purity of heart. Purity of life. Authenticity. Genuine faith exploration. True Worship.

The waterfalls of love

The following is an attempt to change the tone and attitude of this blog. Following the reactions of my previous post I thought I would make an effort to bring "positive and uplifting" words, kinda' like the Christian radio stations.


Waterfalls of love
by Jonathan Erdman

As I enter the forest of peace I hear the sounds of joy
The tranquil little creatures scurry along
Spreading their little blessings of truth
I breathe in the freshness of heavenly air and say,
"Ah, 'tis the place for you
For here are the waterfalls of love"



I dance among the petals of delight
and rejoice upon the flowering wonder
The trees of tranquility bless me again
And the bushes of fullness bid me with a rustle
But my journey is beyond
For I journey to the waterfalls of love



As grace speeds me along and mercy bids me now
I come to the clearing of the pastures' sun
Upon my eyes fall the vision of goodness
And I say to my self, yea in that very place
"Self, 'tis the pathway of love and you shall proceed
To the waterfalls of love



From the clearing to the Victorious Elms!
Through the magnanimity of strength renewed
Verily my feet speed me on
I am carried, as it were, by the vision anew
And carried to the springs of which I speak
To the waterfalls, yea, the waterfalls of love



What spies my disbelieving eye?
'Tis the falls of them that have reached unto peace
I glide into the waters and they rush over my head
Waters of love
Oh, waters of love
My soul has reached them - the waterfalls of love

Theos Love

I began thinking a bit about love for God recently.

I estimate that I have heard several thousand sermons in my as-of-yet still pre-30 years old lifetime. These sermons have come from church, Christian education (high school and college), surfing online, and a few other sundry sources. I have been in countless more classes and Christian teaching settings, as well as "gee, how could I ever begin to remember" number of informal/casual conversations about the love for/of God. All of this exposure has been on a wide variety of levels: From theoretical to base-level, from intellectual to emotional, from philosophical to psychological to scientific to theological: The spectrum has been wide.

Is it possible to strip it all away?

Is it possible to unclutter one's mind of all the "teaching" and "learning" and "advancements"? To start afresh?

Probably not. In fact, if one were to strip away everything and have a reference point of zero then how would one even begin to think?

And yet from an experiential standpoint that is what I desire. Not even desire, but crave.

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? (Ps 42 NIV)

I truly believe that to learn I need to unlearn. To grow I need relapse. This is one reason why I cringe at so much of Christian literature. An endless stream of how-to manuals prescribe to me what is needed to love God, or "grow spiritually" (whatever that means), or attain "spiritual discipline", or have greater faith. There are as many answers as there are self-proclaimed prophets.

But in the end there is God. And there is something called "love of God" that resonates within me. A connection? A feeling? A desire? Actions of fidelity? A romance? Submission? Transcendence?

At times he is far away when he should be near at hand. At other times, when he should be far away - when my own infidelity would seem to demand it - I hear the echoes of mercy and whispers of love.[N]

Tragic

5/24/07
Two people are dead and a Warsaw man remains at large following separate shooting incidents Wednesday evening in Warsaw.

Kosciusko County dispatch received a call at 5:11 p.m from the Phillips 66 Service station at 2518 E. Center St., Warsaw, concerning a shooting.

Phillips 66 employee Narinder Muldt made the 911 call after another employee told him the manager, Harpal Singh - referred to by Muldt as "K.J." - had been shot.

The suspected shooter is Omar Mora, 31, of Warsaw. Police said Singh suffered multiple gunshot wounds to his head and chest from a small-caliber handgun. Singh died at the scene.

Police believe Mora then headed to his residence at 1844 Vicky Lane, Warsaw, where he allegedly shot his wife, Lisa Heather Mora, 32, with the same small-caliber gun. [Warsaw Times Union]


This is very difficult for me to write about. These have been hard days for Lisa's family and many of us who are close to them. The above headline may be somewhat common place in certain areas of the country, but not here.

The shooting took place in the late afternoon on Wednessday, the 23rd.

The first thing to mention in regards to this story is that the facts are not all in. Various media outlets are reporting this in such a way that would suggest that there was some sort of sexual relationship between Lisa and K.J. I am simply going to say that it is important not to jump to any conclusions.

Recently at The Theos Project we have been discussing the issue of light, but during times like these it is hard to see anything but darkness. There is confusion, fear, and pain. Things seem so senseless. Two boys who will never again see their mother. A sister who will be forever missed at Christmas. A father who will bear guilt and shame for the rest of his life. All so senseless. All so tragic.

Sometimes darkness surrounds us. What does it mean to see light in these times? What does it mean to face the hard days ahead? To try to sort out the difference between wanting justice and craving vengeance? How does one come to grips with losing a life so dear? Why is the pain of the disconnect so great?

The questions are many. The answers are few.

In the midst of the questions and in the midst of the darkness I am reminded of the Gospel of John, chapter one:

In him was life and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness.

Somehow the light of Christ shines. It is this light that gives hope for the future. It is this light that shines in the darkness of our own pain and confusion. Christ's light is pure. His light is true. We come to him for healing. To cry when we feel overwhelmed by bitterness, and to love through the hate.

That Christ came as the light is the reason we reach out to each other. Christ's mission is our mission: Bring light to the darkness of the lives of others. Sometimes our lives are marked by living that is inauthentic and superficial. The light of Christ penetrates and leads us to something deeper as we love and care for each other.

In Him,
Jon