There won't be much material of substance in this post. I suppose that's a pretty terrible way to get you to continue reading. Eh. Recently I was thinking about how I tend to be a complainer. It's a lot easier for me to focus on what I don't like about a given situation than it is to focus on the positive. And so, I thought it might be good for my personal health to list some things that I truly like. It is Christmas season, after all. Isn't this the kind of thing people do for the holidays? I mean, besides overeating and watching stop-motion movies. I guess I'll just keep listing things I like until I either run out or get too distracted. Or until an attractive female calls me up and wants to go get pancakes.
-I like seeing the people at the mall that are getting those Chinese massages in the little chairs. It seems like the most awkward place in the entire world to have that done.
-I like watching a couple Homestar Runner cartoons every day. Even though I've seen them all a hundred times, they serve as little reminders that the world is still pretty good.
-I like winter because the long nights make me feel reflective.
-I like that I'll be going back to Oregon in 21 days.
-I like observing other people's terribly awkward, uncomfortable situations. I even sort of like my own awkward situations.
-I like this commercial.
-I like to listen to my Friday playlist and hope that someday, somewhere, by some freak set of circumstances, I'll be a good dancer.
-I like to look at all the books on the shelves when I'm in someone's office or dorm room.
-I like people who comment on my blog posts. They're my best friends. Everyone else is not.
-I like the word "voluminous."
-I maybe, sort of, kind of like a few Superchick songs a little bit. Please don't think less of me.
-I like Coca-Cola, and I like when my friends' fiances keep the fridge stocked with two-liter bottles of it.
-I like being in a crowd, like in a mall during Christmas season or walking the sidewalks of a big city. Not that interact with anyone in the crowd. I just like being there.
-I like reminiscing about the "good old days" of freshman year when I played pool every afternoon, ate pizza every weekend, and took a nap every other hour.
-I like video montages, like the ones they show at the end of the Olympics or during the college football national championship.
-I like when people who write the blogs on my sidebar write a new post. Hint hint.
-I like Alumni jokes.
-I like listening to Flobots, pretending I know something about politics, and feeling like I'm sticking it to the man.
-I like intramural basketball. Especially when my teammates let me start the game when we play a team that's not very good.
-I like the Christmas gift you're going to give me.
-I like writing my sermons in coffee shops. It makes me look so cultured, I think. Now only if I used an iPad from the pulpit....
-I like the cover of the Sonic & Knuckles game for Sega Genesis.
-I like that the Cincinnati Reds finally had a winning season this year.
-I like when I make an allusion to Freaks and Geeks or Arrested Development, and someone knows what I'm referencing.
-I like going to the bank in Joplin on Tuesdays.
-I like spending the weekend at Ryan's apartment. It makes me feel like I can do whatever I want, even though we all know I'm not going to do anything I wouldn't normally do.
-I like the feeling of waking up, thinking it's time to go to class, looking at your clock, realizing it's only 2:42 a.m., and rolling back over to go to sleep.
-I like to break out into random beatbox sessions, even though I'm about the worst beatboxer I know.
-I like when girls wear glasses. I also like that glasses are becoming fashionable as a rule, and I like to think that I'm the reason.
-I like to make faces in pictures, except there are only about five that I do. I guess I should work on some new ones.
-I like lil' smokies. Actually, "like" isn't strong enough of a word. Love? Adore? Am infatuated with?
-I like bowling. Except when a girl beats me. Or Charlie.
-I like reading all the Facebook posts wishing me a happy birthday and thinking, "Gosh, that's awful nice of that person. Especially after we haven't talked in four years."
So as you can see, I like a lot of things. Feel free to comment with your own (hopefully shorter) list, and have yourself a merry little December 18th.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Potentially Christian America
I think I may have mentioned this in a previous post, but this semester I have been taking a class in the General Epistles, where we have been studying the books of James, 1 Peter, and 1 John. This has been one of the most thought-provoking, applicable classes I have had at Ozark. One of the best things about the class has been the books that we have read for it. One of them that I read about a month and half ago is Resident Aliens by Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon. I thought the book was great, as one can tell by the frequent highlighting throughout. I had been planning to write a blog post about the book when one day I noticed a book on the New Books spinner in the library. The book is called Death of a Christian Nation by Deborah J. Dewart. After scanning the synopsis on the back cover of the book, I realized that this book may be just about the complete opposite of Resident Aliens, so I thought it would be fun to compare the two.
Both Resident Aliens and Death of a Christian Nation begin with the same issue: America can no longer be considered a Christian nation, or at least is losing its status as a Christian nation. Hauerwas and Willimon use a story of how, in 1963, a movie theater began to be open on Sundays. For these writers, this is evidence of the end of Christian America. They write, "Whether we are with Pentecostals, Catholics, Lutherans, or United Methodists, we meet few young parents, college students, or auto mechanics who believe that one becomes Christian today by simply breathing the air and drinking the water in the generous, hospitable environment of Christendom America" (16). Similarly, Dewart looks at legal cases from the past several decades and concludes, "If modern liberal activists have their way, the phrase God Bless America will ring hollow because our Christian nation will be dead" (6). Both books recognize that American life has changed and that our country is becoming more and more "unchristian." However, the two books respond to this situation is vastly different ways.
But before we get to that, maybe we should ask if the United States was every really a Christian nation in the first place. Many Americans, perhaps even most Americans, would not even question this. They point to the faith of the founding fathers and to the biblical principles that undergird the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. Dewart's first chapter beings, "In the beginning, God blessed America. Christianity was the bedrock of this country." She provides a number of quotations to show that America was Christian from the beginning. For example, she quotes Thomas Jefferson:
So then, how do Dewart, Hauerwas, and Willimon deal with all of this? For Dewart, the situation demands that we do everything we can to keep America from losing its Christian identity. She writes:
On the other hand, Hauerwas and Willimon paint a very different picture. They too see that "Christian America" may be eroding. However, instead of making a plea to the church to preserve that system, they see it as a good thing that will allow the church to function as it should. They write, "The demise of the Constantinian world view, the gradual decline of the notion that the church needs some sort of surrounding 'Christian' culture to prop it up and mold its young, is not a death to lament. It is an opportunity to celebrate" (18). This is due to the fact that, when the church and state become wrapped up together, it is typically the church that loses its identity. Instead of the church shaping the state, we find nationalistic ideals molding the church. Instead, the church is called to be "a social alternative that the world cannot on its own terms know" (18). The church stands separate from the state because it is its own entity. We may like to think that, at least in its original condition, American government was buddy-buddy with the church, but this may not be the case. Hauerwas and Willimon write, "The story which comprises American capitalistic, constitutional democracy and the story which elicits the church are in greater conflict than these Christian transformers of culture know" (155). The church functions by its own politic, and it certainly doesn't need the support of the government or judiciary to carry out its God-given mission.
Something we American Christians struggle with is that, our entire lives, we have been so attached to our "rights." We believe that preservation of our rights is required if we are to live the Christian life. However, that doesn't seem to be the image that Jesus gives. Instead, he predicted that all men would hate his followers (Matt. 10:22), and he knew that Christians would be beaten and killed (Mk. 13:9). Meanwhile, we Americans are terrified that our churches might lose their tax-exempt status, or we worry that out workplaces won't let us wear Christian symbols on our jewelry. And yet, in spite of the very unchristian environment of the first-century Roman empire, the church expanded, and what started out as a little mustard seed grew into a tree. For a more recent example, we might look at the church in China, which is growing like crazy even though preachers don't have the politically-sanctioned right to stand on a streetcorner and tell people about Jesus. Oftentimes, it is when the church faces its greatest hardships that it is able to most exemplify what it means to follow Christ and it carries out its mission to the greatest extent. So maybe the loss of Christian America really isn't too bad. Maybe it's just what is needed to help the church be what it was made to be.
What do you think? Is the United States a Christian nation? Is it the church's responsibility to maintain (or recapture) America's Christian identity?
Both Resident Aliens and Death of a Christian Nation begin with the same issue: America can no longer be considered a Christian nation, or at least is losing its status as a Christian nation. Hauerwas and Willimon use a story of how, in 1963, a movie theater began to be open on Sundays. For these writers, this is evidence of the end of Christian America. They write, "Whether we are with Pentecostals, Catholics, Lutherans, or United Methodists, we meet few young parents, college students, or auto mechanics who believe that one becomes Christian today by simply breathing the air and drinking the water in the generous, hospitable environment of Christendom America" (16). Similarly, Dewart looks at legal cases from the past several decades and concludes, "If modern liberal activists have their way, the phrase God Bless America will ring hollow because our Christian nation will be dead" (6). Both books recognize that American life has changed and that our country is becoming more and more "unchristian." However, the two books respond to this situation is vastly different ways.
But before we get to that, maybe we should ask if the United States was every really a Christian nation in the first place. Many Americans, perhaps even most Americans, would not even question this. They point to the faith of the founding fathers and to the biblical principles that undergird the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. Dewart's first chapter beings, "In the beginning, God blessed America. Christianity was the bedrock of this country." She provides a number of quotations to show that America was Christian from the beginning. For example, she quotes Thomas Jefferson:
And can the liberties of a nation be thought secure when we have removed their only firm basis--a conviction in the minds of the people that these liberties are the fit of God? That they are not to be violated but with His wrath? Indeed I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just: that His justice cannot sleep forever. (4)It all sounds very good. However, just in the case of Thomas Jefferson, we may need to examine his Christian convictions a little closer. It is not unknown that Jefferson produced his own version of the gospels, in which he removed any hints of miracles, Jesus' divinity, or the resurrection. His version ends thusly: "Now in the place where he was crucified, there was a garden; and in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was man never yet laid. There they laid Jesus. And rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed." And that's it. We might be able to ask Jefferson whether the doctrines of a faith can be thought secure when we have removed their only firm basis--a conviction that Jesus was God and rose from the dead. What we see in Jefferson (and, though I'm certainly no expert, I would assume we might see in several others among the founding fathers) is a deistic, antisupernatural worldview that discredits a great deal of Scripture and strikes at the heart of Christian faith. Maybe early America wasn't quite as Christian as we have been told. (We might also want to remember that the colonies started a war in large part because they didn't want to pay taxes. Doesn't seem to fit with Rom. 13 very well.)
So then, how do Dewart, Hauerwas, and Willimon deal with all of this? For Dewart, the situation demands that we do everything we can to keep America from losing its Christian identity. She writes:
American Christianity is under attack. From shore to shore, cases are legion. Believers need knowledge. They need to know how fellow Christians are suffering for their faith right here in America. They need to know how current laws impact their ability to apply biblical principles in the workplace. They need to know their Bibles. They need to know where to turn for help. Without this knowledge, our 'Christian' nation will die." (xv)To Dewart, the greatest danger threatening the contemporary church is that America will cease to be able to call itself a Christian nation. She claims that if this happens, it will severely hamper the church's ability to carry out its mission. She continues, "Moreover, our freedom to preach the gospel is rapidly diminishing, and preservation of that freedom is vital to the church and its mission" (xv, emphasis mine). And, although I have only skimmed Death of a Christian Nation, it seems like Dewart's solution to all of this is that Christian be knowledgeable about their "right" and be able to defend those rights in the public arena.
On the other hand, Hauerwas and Willimon paint a very different picture. They too see that "Christian America" may be eroding. However, instead of making a plea to the church to preserve that system, they see it as a good thing that will allow the church to function as it should. They write, "The demise of the Constantinian world view, the gradual decline of the notion that the church needs some sort of surrounding 'Christian' culture to prop it up and mold its young, is not a death to lament. It is an opportunity to celebrate" (18). This is due to the fact that, when the church and state become wrapped up together, it is typically the church that loses its identity. Instead of the church shaping the state, we find nationalistic ideals molding the church. Instead, the church is called to be "a social alternative that the world cannot on its own terms know" (18). The church stands separate from the state because it is its own entity. We may like to think that, at least in its original condition, American government was buddy-buddy with the church, but this may not be the case. Hauerwas and Willimon write, "The story which comprises American capitalistic, constitutional democracy and the story which elicits the church are in greater conflict than these Christian transformers of culture know" (155). The church functions by its own politic, and it certainly doesn't need the support of the government or judiciary to carry out its God-given mission.
Something we American Christians struggle with is that, our entire lives, we have been so attached to our "rights." We believe that preservation of our rights is required if we are to live the Christian life. However, that doesn't seem to be the image that Jesus gives. Instead, he predicted that all men would hate his followers (Matt. 10:22), and he knew that Christians would be beaten and killed (Mk. 13:9). Meanwhile, we Americans are terrified that our churches might lose their tax-exempt status, or we worry that out workplaces won't let us wear Christian symbols on our jewelry. And yet, in spite of the very unchristian environment of the first-century Roman empire, the church expanded, and what started out as a little mustard seed grew into a tree. For a more recent example, we might look at the church in China, which is growing like crazy even though preachers don't have the politically-sanctioned right to stand on a streetcorner and tell people about Jesus. Oftentimes, it is when the church faces its greatest hardships that it is able to most exemplify what it means to follow Christ and it carries out its mission to the greatest extent. So maybe the loss of Christian America really isn't too bad. Maybe it's just what is needed to help the church be what it was made to be.
What do you think? Is the United States a Christian nation? Is it the church's responsibility to maintain (or recapture) America's Christian identity?
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Seeing People
Tomorrow is the last day of class for the semester, and then we have finals next week. I am pretty excited about this fact. I'm sure I've written this before, but finals week is always my favorite week of the semester, and I would not be at all disappointed if this final week was like last semester's, when we played Killball (or as you Northwesterners call it, Smashface) a couple hours every night. It blows my mind when I think about how fast this semester has gone. I think this is because this semester has not had as many "defining aspects" as some of my others semesters--some TV show to watch on the projector with the guys, or some girl to turn me down. These are the markers of my seasons of life, but this semester has probably been more constant. I guess that's what happens when you get older--life begins to meld into some ambiguous blog, and before you know it, you're eating breakfast at Bob Evans when you realize, "Holy moly! I'm an old man!"
I feel like I need a break. (Bear with my complaining for a moment; I promise I'll try to make it redeeming). I was thinking about this a while ago. I feel like I have not really had a true break since maybe last March. Almost as soon as I got out of school in May, I went to Oregon to do my internship there, and then a couple days after I got back, I came back to school. So I spent my entire summer teaching every Sunday morning and organizing events and such, and since then I have been preaching just about every week and trying to keep up with school. It feels like I need to be doing something every moment of the day, and I feel guilty if I even take a short nap or run out to get some Burger King. And I'm tired. I so much long for a week that I can sleep and watch basketball and not have to be concerned with all of the different responsibilities on my plate, and the problem is that I can't foresee that happening anytime in the near future.
But then I read about Jesus, and I realize how petty I can be sometimes. In Matthew 14:13, Jesus learns that John the Baptist has been killed. It's difficult to determine exactly what the relationship between John and Jesus was like, but every indication seems to point to the idea that there was a special bond between them. Understandably, Jesus is upset, so "he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place." For a little while at least, Jesus just wants to get away. For a moment, he tries to get away from the crowds so that he can grieve, but the multitudes aren't easily dodged. Instead, when they see Jesus in the boat, they run to meet him at the opposite shore. That's when Jesus does something that puts me to shame and silences my little complaints. "When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick" (Mt. 14:14).
Jesus had a special ability (understatement) of seeing people. Really seeing them. He perceived their needs, and not only that, but he loved them and had compassion on them. He didn't see them as an obstacle, an interruption, or an annoyance getting in the way of his rest. He saw them as his beloved, so he changed his plans in order to heal and feed them. I can't imagine that. There may not be a time when it is more acceptable to not do ministry than when grieving the death of a loved one, but Jesus continues to serve. How was he able to do this? Because he saw the bustling crowds as people created and loved by God.
Sometimes I stop and ask myself why I should keep going. I look for a reason not to quit. It would be so much easier to just push everything aside and do only what I want to do. In those times, it's imperative that I think about people. I have to make it less about the task and more about the people. If I just focus on my sermon itself and think about all of the research and writing and practicing that lies ahead of me, I feel burdened. But when I think about the people, when I focus on Vernon and Pauline and Bill, I am reminded that there is a reason to it all. Or, when I focus just on my homework and stare blankly at the stack of books on my desk that need reading, I find it difficult to be motivated to do much of anything. But when I turn my attention to how my preparation now will benefit the church I serve in the future, there is a new umph behind my tasks.
There will be times when we feel fatigued and worn down, and we would love nothing more than to crawl into our bed and forget about everything we have ahead of us. There will be times that we are far from home, living in a new community, missing our friends and family, and we would give anything to jump on an airplane and fly back. And there will be times when, after years of ministry, we begin to wonder if our entire lives have been in vain. In those moments, we might just need to step back, take a breath, and look at Jesus, because when we do that, he'll turn our attention to the faces of people. And that just might be the push we need.
Enjoy the Christmas music, Chuck.
I feel like I need a break. (Bear with my complaining for a moment; I promise I'll try to make it redeeming). I was thinking about this a while ago. I feel like I have not really had a true break since maybe last March. Almost as soon as I got out of school in May, I went to Oregon to do my internship there, and then a couple days after I got back, I came back to school. So I spent my entire summer teaching every Sunday morning and organizing events and such, and since then I have been preaching just about every week and trying to keep up with school. It feels like I need to be doing something every moment of the day, and I feel guilty if I even take a short nap or run out to get some Burger King. And I'm tired. I so much long for a week that I can sleep and watch basketball and not have to be concerned with all of the different responsibilities on my plate, and the problem is that I can't foresee that happening anytime in the near future.
But then I read about Jesus, and I realize how petty I can be sometimes. In Matthew 14:13, Jesus learns that John the Baptist has been killed. It's difficult to determine exactly what the relationship between John and Jesus was like, but every indication seems to point to the idea that there was a special bond between them. Understandably, Jesus is upset, so "he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place." For a little while at least, Jesus just wants to get away. For a moment, he tries to get away from the crowds so that he can grieve, but the multitudes aren't easily dodged. Instead, when they see Jesus in the boat, they run to meet him at the opposite shore. That's when Jesus does something that puts me to shame and silences my little complaints. "When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick" (Mt. 14:14).
Jesus had a special ability (understatement) of seeing people. Really seeing them. He perceived their needs, and not only that, but he loved them and had compassion on them. He didn't see them as an obstacle, an interruption, or an annoyance getting in the way of his rest. He saw them as his beloved, so he changed his plans in order to heal and feed them. I can't imagine that. There may not be a time when it is more acceptable to not do ministry than when grieving the death of a loved one, but Jesus continues to serve. How was he able to do this? Because he saw the bustling crowds as people created and loved by God.
Sometimes I stop and ask myself why I should keep going. I look for a reason not to quit. It would be so much easier to just push everything aside and do only what I want to do. In those times, it's imperative that I think about people. I have to make it less about the task and more about the people. If I just focus on my sermon itself and think about all of the research and writing and practicing that lies ahead of me, I feel burdened. But when I think about the people, when I focus on Vernon and Pauline and Bill, I am reminded that there is a reason to it all. Or, when I focus just on my homework and stare blankly at the stack of books on my desk that need reading, I find it difficult to be motivated to do much of anything. But when I turn my attention to how my preparation now will benefit the church I serve in the future, there is a new umph behind my tasks.
There will be times when we feel fatigued and worn down, and we would love nothing more than to crawl into our bed and forget about everything we have ahead of us. There will be times that we are far from home, living in a new community, missing our friends and family, and we would give anything to jump on an airplane and fly back. And there will be times when, after years of ministry, we begin to wonder if our entire lives have been in vain. In those moments, we might just need to step back, take a breath, and look at Jesus, because when we do that, he'll turn our attention to the faces of people. And that just might be the push we need.
Enjoy the Christmas music, Chuck.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Pilgrims and Stoics
Today is Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving for a couple reasons: 1) I like to eat (especially when it involves sweet potatoes, rolls, and pie); 2) I like to watch the Macy's parade; 3) it gives me an excuse to wear my full-body Pilgrim costume. This Thanksgiving season has been especially good in that today, I will be partaking in my fourth Thanksgiving dinner. The fact that so many people have been willing to feed me makes me worry that I'm being fattened up for some sort of human sacrifice, but for now, I'll just enjoy it.
If someone were to ask you today, Are you thankful?", how would you answer? My guess is that you would say "Yes." As we gather around the table covered with turkey and stuffing, we reflect on all of the things we are thankful for--family, friends, shelter, food, freedom, etc. It's relatively easy for us to feel thankful on Thanksgiving. But what if, instead of asking, "Are you thankful?", someone were to ask you, "Are you content?" Would you be answer to answer in the affirmative? The truth is that thankfulness and contentment go hand in hand. They overlap in many ways. And yet, we seem to have a lot more trouble being content than we do being thankful.
Part of our problem in this may be that we misunderstand what contentment is. We carry with us a number of misconceptions of contentment. For example, we might think that contentment can be equated with wealth, but in reality, they may be quite the opposite. In 1 Timothy 6:6-10, contentment is placed alongside warning about wealth. There is a contrast--there are those who are content, and there are those who want to get rich. Just look at our own nation. We live in the most prosperous country the world has ever known, but at the same time, it may be the most discontented. We always want more--bigger houses, nicer cars, more attractive spouses, more products with an Apple logo on them. Our wealth has failed to make us content, and we are often unable to say along with Paul that we are content "whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want" (Phil. 4:12).
Another misunderstanding we may have about contentment is that contentment is self-sufficiency. We might think that being content means we pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps and keep our heads up in any situation, but that we do so by our own power. This is the idea behind the philosophy of Stoicism. Contentment is the essential virtue in Stoicism. Stoics made it their goal to transcend above any sense of need, passion, or desire, but they believe that a person had the ability within themselves to do this. The power came from within.
That is not biblical contentment, because what contentment is is dependence on God. Contentment is the belief that no matter what happens--when bank accounts run dry, cars break down, friends abandon us, our health fails and the milk jug in the fridge is empty--God is still good and takes care of his children. At the same time, when our bank accounts are full, we feel strong as an ox, and life seems to be going well, contentment is the knowledge that our security does not come from these things but from our Father in heaven. Contentment is the realization that most of the things we think we need are things we don't really need at all because all we truly need is God. Last week I ran across a story of a spiritual seeker who went to spend a weekend at a monastery, and as the monk showed the man to his cell, the monk said, "We hope you have a blessed stay with us. If you need anything, just let us know, and we'll teach you how to live without it."
We think we need so much. But truth be told, we don't. We need God, and it's because of his presence in our lives that we are able to be content. After talking about how he is able to be content in any situation, Paul writes, "I can do everything through him who gives me strength." It's not a Stoic independence, but rather the empowerment of Christ, that is able to make Paul content. Similarly, Hebrews 13:5 calls us to be content "because God has said, 'Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.'" We need to remember that God is with us wherever we are and in whatever circumstances, God won't leave us. Paul knew that God was with him when he was in a friend's house enjoying dinner, and he knew that God was with him when he was alone on a damp prison floor. I hope that our thankfulness isn't something that happens only when we have turkey on the table and sweet potatoes in our belly, but that we use this holiday to instill within us an attitude of contentment that continues through the entire year.
And with that, I wish you the happiest Thanksgiving possible. I'm thankful for each of you that read this, and I'm thankful for the encouragements that I get that let me know that there may actually be a reason for me to continue writing. And finally, I'm thankful for each of you who are going to fight the shopping crowds at Black Friday tomorrow just so you can get me a good Christmas present. It's awfully nice of you.
If someone were to ask you today, Are you thankful?", how would you answer? My guess is that you would say "Yes." As we gather around the table covered with turkey and stuffing, we reflect on all of the things we are thankful for--family, friends, shelter, food, freedom, etc. It's relatively easy for us to feel thankful on Thanksgiving. But what if, instead of asking, "Are you thankful?", someone were to ask you, "Are you content?" Would you be answer to answer in the affirmative? The truth is that thankfulness and contentment go hand in hand. They overlap in many ways. And yet, we seem to have a lot more trouble being content than we do being thankful.
Part of our problem in this may be that we misunderstand what contentment is. We carry with us a number of misconceptions of contentment. For example, we might think that contentment can be equated with wealth, but in reality, they may be quite the opposite. In 1 Timothy 6:6-10, contentment is placed alongside warning about wealth. There is a contrast--there are those who are content, and there are those who want to get rich. Just look at our own nation. We live in the most prosperous country the world has ever known, but at the same time, it may be the most discontented. We always want more--bigger houses, nicer cars, more attractive spouses, more products with an Apple logo on them. Our wealth has failed to make us content, and we are often unable to say along with Paul that we are content "whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want" (Phil. 4:12).
Another misunderstanding we may have about contentment is that contentment is self-sufficiency. We might think that being content means we pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps and keep our heads up in any situation, but that we do so by our own power. This is the idea behind the philosophy of Stoicism. Contentment is the essential virtue in Stoicism. Stoics made it their goal to transcend above any sense of need, passion, or desire, but they believe that a person had the ability within themselves to do this. The power came from within.
That is not biblical contentment, because what contentment is is dependence on God. Contentment is the belief that no matter what happens--when bank accounts run dry, cars break down, friends abandon us, our health fails and the milk jug in the fridge is empty--God is still good and takes care of his children. At the same time, when our bank accounts are full, we feel strong as an ox, and life seems to be going well, contentment is the knowledge that our security does not come from these things but from our Father in heaven. Contentment is the realization that most of the things we think we need are things we don't really need at all because all we truly need is God. Last week I ran across a story of a spiritual seeker who went to spend a weekend at a monastery, and as the monk showed the man to his cell, the monk said, "We hope you have a blessed stay with us. If you need anything, just let us know, and we'll teach you how to live without it."
We think we need so much. But truth be told, we don't. We need God, and it's because of his presence in our lives that we are able to be content. After talking about how he is able to be content in any situation, Paul writes, "I can do everything through him who gives me strength." It's not a Stoic independence, but rather the empowerment of Christ, that is able to make Paul content. Similarly, Hebrews 13:5 calls us to be content "because God has said, 'Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.'" We need to remember that God is with us wherever we are and in whatever circumstances, God won't leave us. Paul knew that God was with him when he was in a friend's house enjoying dinner, and he knew that God was with him when he was alone on a damp prison floor. I hope that our thankfulness isn't something that happens only when we have turkey on the table and sweet potatoes in our belly, but that we use this holiday to instill within us an attitude of contentment that continues through the entire year.
And with that, I wish you the happiest Thanksgiving possible. I'm thankful for each of you that read this, and I'm thankful for the encouragements that I get that let me know that there may actually be a reason for me to continue writing. And finally, I'm thankful for each of you who are going to fight the shopping crowds at Black Friday tomorrow just so you can get me a good Christmas present. It's awfully nice of you.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Dancing Is Better Than Poking
Last week, I was privileged to hear Randy Gariss give a lecture on working with a team in ministry. Actually, I guess I was doubly privileged, because two of my professors scheduled him to teach, and it was the same lecture both times. This was a good thing, though, because the second time Randy said something that got me thinking (and I need all the help I can get with that these days). For those of you that don't know, Randy Garris is the preacher at College Heights Christian Church in Joplin, and only though I've only been to College Heights once, I always appreciate the times that I get to hear Randy speak. He definitely one of the wisest men I've come across. Anyways, what Randy said in our class was that today, we are masters of short-term, shallow relationships. He talked about how, a hundred years ago, a person would grow up living in a room (and maybe even sharing a bed) with his siblings, and he would have the same teacher all the way through high school, and there would be one coach for all the sports, and there would be one store in town. Now, however, we have constant relational turnover. If you don't like your teacher, you can get a new one the next semester. This is a symptom of the changes that have occurred in how we relate with one another. We've become experts at small talk and pleasantries, but we don't do so well in establishing enduring, deep relationships.
Randy said that we try to cover up our relational struggles with what he called "classy isolation." We decorate our isolation so that it doesn't look like isolation. Facebook may be a prime example. We spend more time delving into the "social world" of Facebook or other mediums instead of being engaged in flesh-and-blood relationship. And if you know me, you know that I use the word "we" there not just as a writing device, but because I'm probably the worst at this. It's so much easier (and safer) to interact with a typeface and a profile picture than with a person sitting across a table from you. And yet, we think that we are relationally rich when we don't know how to maintain an actual relationship. I can brag about having 574 Facebook friends, but the truth is that only a handful of them know me very well at all.
We want something greater, of course. We really do desire deep, lasting relationships. Last night I saw the new Harry Potter movie. At one point in the movie, things are going very badly, and everyone is depressed. Hermione is sitting by herself listening to the radio when Harry walks over, pulls her to her feet, and begins to dance with her. And while she's reluctant at first, before long they are dancing and smiling and laughing. I thought this scene was beautiful. For one thing, I too love to dance. For another, it was a great picture of the type of relationships we want. In the story, Harry and Hermione have been through an awful lot together, and they have a friendship that many of us long for. They know each other so well and they care and love for each other in a way that is anything but common.
Of course, this relationship is artificial. The scene is designed by a director and film crew. So we could dismiss it as an impossibility--just another glitzed up picture of what we wish for but that is too unrealistic to be attainable. And yet, I hope and believe that the fellowship we possess in Christ is greater than anything that even Hollywood can imagine. Such closeness and love is possible. In fact, in the church, it should be a common feature. At Sunday School this morning at Commerce, the class began reflecting on what it is like to lose a loved one. The congregation is mostly made up of older folks, and in my little class of seven people, four of them had lost a spouse. After they had shared for a while, one of the men, Bill, said, "You know, this isn't something we can talk about just anywhere. Not even with friends. This is the kind of thing that belongs in the church." The church should be where we can enjoy these deep relationships. The church should be where we can talk about our loved ones who have died. The church should be where we dance with each other in adversity. Our fellowship is incomplete when we relegate it only to talking about football at the coffee pot.
The stories of our lives are lacking something when we fail to develop these sorts of deep relationships. Any good epic story is about more than the task to be accomplished; it is about the relationships between the characters. These stories are about more than throwing the ring into the fire, defeating Voldemort, ending the White Witch's reign, blowing up the Death Star, or protecting the island. They are about Frodo and Sam; Harry, Ron, and Hermione; Lucy and Tumnus; Luke and Leia; Jack and Kate. While the tasks are what grab our interests, these relationships are what grab our hearts.
These relationships are forged in adversity. The reason these characters become so close and unceasingly loyal to one another is because they experience so much difficulty together. Maybe one reason that we have trouble developing such relationships is that we do not recognize any sense of adventure in our lives. We need to recapture a sense of "quest." When our lives are just about living comfortably in gated communities and going to work everyday so that we can stay healthy and buy IPod apps, we don't really need other people. We can do that pretty well ourselves. But when we remember that we are in a lifelong struggle "against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms," we realize that we can't do it by ourselves. We need one another because we are fighting an enemy much more real than Voldemort, and we are involved in an epic story that makes all other stories seem soft. So let's put away our classy isolation, and let's dance.
When I started writing this post, I had planned to call out all of you other bloggers, because of the blogs on my sidebar, the only one that had been updated in the past month was Charlie's. However, just a little bit ago, Caitlyn updated hers. But for all the rest of you: write something! Also, I added a couple new links to the side, so be sure to check those out.
Randy said that we try to cover up our relational struggles with what he called "classy isolation." We decorate our isolation so that it doesn't look like isolation. Facebook may be a prime example. We spend more time delving into the "social world" of Facebook or other mediums instead of being engaged in flesh-and-blood relationship. And if you know me, you know that I use the word "we" there not just as a writing device, but because I'm probably the worst at this. It's so much easier (and safer) to interact with a typeface and a profile picture than with a person sitting across a table from you. And yet, we think that we are relationally rich when we don't know how to maintain an actual relationship. I can brag about having 574 Facebook friends, but the truth is that only a handful of them know me very well at all.
We want something greater, of course. We really do desire deep, lasting relationships. Last night I saw the new Harry Potter movie. At one point in the movie, things are going very badly, and everyone is depressed. Hermione is sitting by herself listening to the radio when Harry walks over, pulls her to her feet, and begins to dance with her. And while she's reluctant at first, before long they are dancing and smiling and laughing. I thought this scene was beautiful. For one thing, I too love to dance. For another, it was a great picture of the type of relationships we want. In the story, Harry and Hermione have been through an awful lot together, and they have a friendship that many of us long for. They know each other so well and they care and love for each other in a way that is anything but common.
Of course, this relationship is artificial. The scene is designed by a director and film crew. So we could dismiss it as an impossibility--just another glitzed up picture of what we wish for but that is too unrealistic to be attainable. And yet, I hope and believe that the fellowship we possess in Christ is greater than anything that even Hollywood can imagine. Such closeness and love is possible. In fact, in the church, it should be a common feature. At Sunday School this morning at Commerce, the class began reflecting on what it is like to lose a loved one. The congregation is mostly made up of older folks, and in my little class of seven people, four of them had lost a spouse. After they had shared for a while, one of the men, Bill, said, "You know, this isn't something we can talk about just anywhere. Not even with friends. This is the kind of thing that belongs in the church." The church should be where we can enjoy these deep relationships. The church should be where we can talk about our loved ones who have died. The church should be where we dance with each other in adversity. Our fellowship is incomplete when we relegate it only to talking about football at the coffee pot.
The stories of our lives are lacking something when we fail to develop these sorts of deep relationships. Any good epic story is about more than the task to be accomplished; it is about the relationships between the characters. These stories are about more than throwing the ring into the fire, defeating Voldemort, ending the White Witch's reign, blowing up the Death Star, or protecting the island. They are about Frodo and Sam; Harry, Ron, and Hermione; Lucy and Tumnus; Luke and Leia; Jack and Kate. While the tasks are what grab our interests, these relationships are what grab our hearts.
These relationships are forged in adversity. The reason these characters become so close and unceasingly loyal to one another is because they experience so much difficulty together. Maybe one reason that we have trouble developing such relationships is that we do not recognize any sense of adventure in our lives. We need to recapture a sense of "quest." When our lives are just about living comfortably in gated communities and going to work everyday so that we can stay healthy and buy IPod apps, we don't really need other people. We can do that pretty well ourselves. But when we remember that we are in a lifelong struggle "against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms," we realize that we can't do it by ourselves. We need one another because we are fighting an enemy much more real than Voldemort, and we are involved in an epic story that makes all other stories seem soft. So let's put away our classy isolation, and let's dance.
When I started writing this post, I had planned to call out all of you other bloggers, because of the blogs on my sidebar, the only one that had been updated in the past month was Charlie's. However, just a little bit ago, Caitlyn updated hers. But for all the rest of you: write something! Also, I added a couple new links to the side, so be sure to check those out.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
She's Just About to Close Up the Library!
If you read this post and sense any sort of rage or brooding anger expressed, it's because right now I'm watching the Steelers getting beat the Patriots. So I apologize in advance. Lucky for you, though, I don't anticipate my subject matter today bring out too much angst. In any case, I'll do my best to keep the obscenities to a minimum.
I recently read a chapter in a book about, well, reading. The book is Spiritual Leadership by J. Oswald Sanders, and it was pretty good, so I thought I would share a little bit. Since I have been at Ozark, I have often heard the saying, "Leaders are readers." (Patriots just scored. Stink.) This is because, on our own, we really aren't that smart. We need the wisdom of those who have gone before us, as well as of our contemporaries. Sanders writes, "Through books we hold communion with the greatest spiritual leaders of the ages" (103). Our lives and ministries become imperiled when we begin to think we have the wits to figure it out apart from the experience of others as communicated through writing. We need to read.
But what should we read? It's worth asking. In our world today, we are faced with an absurd amount of information, and the truth is that we all probably read a lot. In Donald Miller's blog last week, he said that he think people today read more than any other generation in history, but the problem is that we don't read good things. There is so much fluff and drivel out there, and it can be difficult to read with discrimination. For this reason, I definitely think it is important to read actual books. Not that we shouldn't read blogs and such (in fact, I would strongly recommend it. Especially this one.), but in our age of instant amateur publication, books become more valuable due to their editorial process. Of course, many books out there are still full of garbage, but they are hopefully a little more rich than an online post by a stranger detailing the drama of her life.
One of my favorite questions to ask people is, "What have you been reading lately?" I just always think this is very interesting, and that why I stole the idea of having a picture of whatever I'm reading on the sidebar of my blog. I think you can learn more about a person from what they read than you can by their favorite music or movies. As influential as movies and music our in our day, books still have more lasting influence in an individual's personal formation. So, all of you potential commenters: What are you reading? What are some of your favorite books/authors that have had an influence on you?
I recently read a chapter in a book about, well, reading. The book is Spiritual Leadership by J. Oswald Sanders, and it was pretty good, so I thought I would share a little bit. Since I have been at Ozark, I have often heard the saying, "Leaders are readers." (Patriots just scored. Stink.) This is because, on our own, we really aren't that smart. We need the wisdom of those who have gone before us, as well as of our contemporaries. Sanders writes, "Through books we hold communion with the greatest spiritual leaders of the ages" (103). Our lives and ministries become imperiled when we begin to think we have the wits to figure it out apart from the experience of others as communicated through writing. We need to read.
But what should we read? It's worth asking. In our world today, we are faced with an absurd amount of information, and the truth is that we all probably read a lot. In Donald Miller's blog last week, he said that he think people today read more than any other generation in history, but the problem is that we don't read good things. There is so much fluff and drivel out there, and it can be difficult to read with discrimination. For this reason, I definitely think it is important to read actual books. Not that we shouldn't read blogs and such (in fact, I would strongly recommend it. Especially this one.), but in our age of instant amateur publication, books become more valuable due to their editorial process. Of course, many books out there are still full of garbage, but they are hopefully a little more rich than an online post by a stranger detailing the drama of her life.
One of my favorite questions to ask people is, "What have you been reading lately?" I just always think this is very interesting, and that why I stole the idea of having a picture of whatever I'm reading on the sidebar of my blog. I think you can learn more about a person from what they read than you can by their favorite music or movies. As influential as movies and music our in our day, books still have more lasting influence in an individual's personal formation. So, all of you potential commenters: What are you reading? What are some of your favorite books/authors that have had an influence on you?
Friday, November 5, 2010
Looking Up
This post is brought to you from a land far, far away--Indiana. Right now, I'm sitting in a room with Connor and Charlie. We've been talking for a while about the intricacies of the movie The Prestige, and with all of this brain power floating around in one room, I figure it's a good time to write a blog. I started having the idea for this post a couple days ago, and then yesterday we were at a Christian book store when I saw a book by Beth Moore called Looking Up. So I've been beat to the punch by Beth Moore again. Once I was going to write a post called "Feathers from My Nest: A Mother's Reflection," but then she beat me to that one too. She's always one step ahead of me.
I have a bad habit of not looking up when I walk somewhere. Instead, I tend to just look at the ground a few feet in front of me. I've been doing this for a long time. I think that in part, this habit has developed out of a fear of tripping. When I was in first grade, a girl in the after-school program challenged me to a race in which we would jump rope all the way across the gym. I was pretty good at jumping rope, so I was confident I would win. I started off great, but then about halfway through I tripped over the rope and smashed my face into the hardwood. Who knows how good-looking I would be today if that hadn't happened? And so, I look down when I walk. I remember when I was six or seven, I was walking with my dad out of Kroger when he commented on it, so I decided to look up as we were walking to the car, and it was like I saw an entire world that I never before existed. But that is definitely not my natural inclination.
You don't tend to be very popular when you always walk around with your head down. People think you're bitter and unsociable. Which may very well be true, but if you're not like that, I've heard that people will be warmer toward you if you look up and smile. Apparently body language is supposed to communicate. Who knew?
This picture of looking up/down is a good metaphor of how different people approach life. There are some who go through life with their head down, looking at the ground in front of them. There are two effects of such a perspective. First, when you're looking down, you have no reason to think that anything will ever be any different. When I walk with my head down, all I can see are the four feet of sidewalk in front of me. For all I know, that sidewalk just goes on forever. When we go through life with our heads down, we assume that life will go just as it is now. We focus on our present situation and forget that there may be something beyond that. When I was in sixth grade, my Sunday School class used a book called Someone's Making a Monkey Out of You to talk about creation and evolution, and that when I learned the word "uniformitarianism." This is the idea that natural laws have always functioned at the same rate and in the same ways for all time. It stuck with me because it was the fanciest word I knew at the time, and it still may be. In any case, living life with your head down result in a uniformitarian outlook. Because all I can see is what is happening right now, I come to believe that this is what will happen for the rest of my life.
The result of this is fatalism. You come to believe that life has dealt us a certain hand of cards, and that's what you're stuck with. If, at the time, you are pretty happy with your life, and if things are going your way, you become an optimist to a fault. You see those four feet of sidewalk as gold-plated, and you think that it will continue as such forever. When something bad actually does happen, you don't know how to handle it, and your fatalism may swing to the opposite extreme--pessimism. If, as you have your head down, you aren't happy with your life, and all you see in the sidewalk are cracks in the cement with weeds creeping through, you drag your feet and sulk because you think this is how it will be forever. And before long, no one wants to hang out with you because all you do is complain about your life and try to bring everyone else down in an effort to somehow make yourself feel better.
All of this is related to the second effect of walking with your head down: you limit your ability to choose an alternate course. If all I see are the four feet of sidewalk in front of me, I don't have very many options of where I'm going. I can keep walking down the sidewalk, or I could turn around and go back maybe. But that's about it. I don't see any other paths to take. As a result, I never change or grow. I stay the same year after year, never realizing that I have the power to determine where I go.
The alternative to all of this, of course, is to walk with your head up. When you do this, the effects I mentioned earlier are reversed. No longer are you confined to believing that all of life is the sidewalk. You see trees and buildings and other sidewalks, and you realize that life actually can change. Things may not always stay the same. There is more out there than your present situation. Maybe that's why, when a friend is have a tough time, we say things like, "Chin up, Champ!" or "Keep your head." In those times, we need to know that there is something more out there, that the crap we deal with no won't last forever.
When we live with our heads up, we also open ourselves up to innumerable possibilities of action. We see that we don't have to walk down the same sidewalk forever, but we can go all sorts of places. Maybe I'll choose to go down the stairs to the right, or maybe I'll go in that building, or maybe all just run through the grass. I'm no longer locked into the same path. Instead, I see multiple possible futures, and I have the ability to choose where I'll go. I can enact change in my own life. So if I don't like something about my life as it is, I can take steps to change it. In another year or two, I might not be quite the same as I am now. I become a round character in my story instead of a flat one.
So, my encouragement to you is this: Look up. Don't get caught up so much in your present situation that you forget that there is more out there, and we have the power to go take hold of it. Granted, this means that we may at times trip and fall on our faces, but we pick ourselves back up and keep going. The ability to live a worthwhile story depends so much on vision, and we need to pick our heads up and see what's out there.
There is a guy who used to go to Ozark who is really good at film and cinematography and such. Recently, I watched a video he made about a person who writes a blog. I'm going to ruin the ending for you if you keep reading this, so be prepared. But in the short movie, the blogger is struggling to come up with something new to write about, so she goes to a little motel in the middle of nowhere and starts murdering people. Yikes. Who knew writer's block could be so lethal?
Rolled around in Charlie's Grand Am last night listening to Flobots. I've missed that.
I have a bad habit of not looking up when I walk somewhere. Instead, I tend to just look at the ground a few feet in front of me. I've been doing this for a long time. I think that in part, this habit has developed out of a fear of tripping. When I was in first grade, a girl in the after-school program challenged me to a race in which we would jump rope all the way across the gym. I was pretty good at jumping rope, so I was confident I would win. I started off great, but then about halfway through I tripped over the rope and smashed my face into the hardwood. Who knows how good-looking I would be today if that hadn't happened? And so, I look down when I walk. I remember when I was six or seven, I was walking with my dad out of Kroger when he commented on it, so I decided to look up as we were walking to the car, and it was like I saw an entire world that I never before existed. But that is definitely not my natural inclination.
You don't tend to be very popular when you always walk around with your head down. People think you're bitter and unsociable. Which may very well be true, but if you're not like that, I've heard that people will be warmer toward you if you look up and smile. Apparently body language is supposed to communicate. Who knew?
This picture of looking up/down is a good metaphor of how different people approach life. There are some who go through life with their head down, looking at the ground in front of them. There are two effects of such a perspective. First, when you're looking down, you have no reason to think that anything will ever be any different. When I walk with my head down, all I can see are the four feet of sidewalk in front of me. For all I know, that sidewalk just goes on forever. When we go through life with our heads down, we assume that life will go just as it is now. We focus on our present situation and forget that there may be something beyond that. When I was in sixth grade, my Sunday School class used a book called Someone's Making a Monkey Out of You to talk about creation and evolution, and that when I learned the word "uniformitarianism." This is the idea that natural laws have always functioned at the same rate and in the same ways for all time. It stuck with me because it was the fanciest word I knew at the time, and it still may be. In any case, living life with your head down result in a uniformitarian outlook. Because all I can see is what is happening right now, I come to believe that this is what will happen for the rest of my life.
The result of this is fatalism. You come to believe that life has dealt us a certain hand of cards, and that's what you're stuck with. If, at the time, you are pretty happy with your life, and if things are going your way, you become an optimist to a fault. You see those four feet of sidewalk as gold-plated, and you think that it will continue as such forever. When something bad actually does happen, you don't know how to handle it, and your fatalism may swing to the opposite extreme--pessimism. If, as you have your head down, you aren't happy with your life, and all you see in the sidewalk are cracks in the cement with weeds creeping through, you drag your feet and sulk because you think this is how it will be forever. And before long, no one wants to hang out with you because all you do is complain about your life and try to bring everyone else down in an effort to somehow make yourself feel better.
All of this is related to the second effect of walking with your head down: you limit your ability to choose an alternate course. If all I see are the four feet of sidewalk in front of me, I don't have very many options of where I'm going. I can keep walking down the sidewalk, or I could turn around and go back maybe. But that's about it. I don't see any other paths to take. As a result, I never change or grow. I stay the same year after year, never realizing that I have the power to determine where I go.
The alternative to all of this, of course, is to walk with your head up. When you do this, the effects I mentioned earlier are reversed. No longer are you confined to believing that all of life is the sidewalk. You see trees and buildings and other sidewalks, and you realize that life actually can change. Things may not always stay the same. There is more out there than your present situation. Maybe that's why, when a friend is have a tough time, we say things like, "Chin up, Champ!" or "Keep your head." In those times, we need to know that there is something more out there, that the crap we deal with no won't last forever.
When we live with our heads up, we also open ourselves up to innumerable possibilities of action. We see that we don't have to walk down the same sidewalk forever, but we can go all sorts of places. Maybe I'll choose to go down the stairs to the right, or maybe I'll go in that building, or maybe all just run through the grass. I'm no longer locked into the same path. Instead, I see multiple possible futures, and I have the ability to choose where I'll go. I can enact change in my own life. So if I don't like something about my life as it is, I can take steps to change it. In another year or two, I might not be quite the same as I am now. I become a round character in my story instead of a flat one.
So, my encouragement to you is this: Look up. Don't get caught up so much in your present situation that you forget that there is more out there, and we have the power to go take hold of it. Granted, this means that we may at times trip and fall on our faces, but we pick ourselves back up and keep going. The ability to live a worthwhile story depends so much on vision, and we need to pick our heads up and see what's out there.
There is a guy who used to go to Ozark who is really good at film and cinematography and such. Recently, I watched a video he made about a person who writes a blog. I'm going to ruin the ending for you if you keep reading this, so be prepared. But in the short movie, the blogger is struggling to come up with something new to write about, so she goes to a little motel in the middle of nowhere and starts murdering people. Yikes. Who knew writer's block could be so lethal?
Rolled around in Charlie's Grand Am last night listening to Flobots. I've missed that.
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