Hobbits, Wizards, and Wardrobes

There's something about those British writers. They know how to put together a good story. Granted, they have been writing in the English language for quite a long time, but even so, it's not a very big country, so how many master storytellers can it produce? I find it interesting, therefore, that there are three such well-known fantasy series that have come from Great Britain in the last 60 years--J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter, and C.S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia. At the beginning of this semester, I started reading the Harry Potter books because I wanted to read all of them before the last movie comes out this summer. They truly are very good books, and reading them got me thinking about how these three sets of books all have different strengths. Each writer puts their stories together in special ways, and I like all of them a great deal. So I thought I would take some time to comment briefly about what I like in each, just because I think it's interesting. No ethical challenge in today's post. Just some thoughts on how three very good writers do what they do so well.

First, The Lord of the Rings. A few things I want to mention. First off, out of the three series that I mentioned, I think this one has the highest writing style. I've heard before that Tolkien was a bit of a perfectionist, and that he finally submitted his books for publishing at the insistence of his friends that he finally put down his pen and let them be finished. And it shows in his writing. Tolkien was a master of words, and each sentence in these books is carefully crafted.

Second, I am impressed with the level of detail that Tolkien gave to the history behind his story. The tale of Frodo taking the ring to Mt. Doom is not an isolated story. Rather, Tolkien places it in an extensive context. He creates an entire history of Middle-Earth. At the end of The Return of the King, there are a number of appendices that provide chronologies, family trees, and details of elvish language. I haven't read much of this material, but it amazes me that Tolkien would have put the time and the thought into sorting out so many details.

Third, The Lord of the Rings is truly an epic story. It is played out on the big stage. Somehow, the stakes of the story just seem bigger than in many others stories. The outcome of the plot doesn't just affect a few select characters. Frodo's mission has ramifications for the entire world that Tolkien creates. In reading these books, the reader gains a wide perspective. Tolkien crafts a tale of gigantic proportions, while still giving adequate attention to the primary characters. Fourth and finally, I think that Gollum is one of the most intriguing characters in all of literature and is really a highlight of this story. Psychology classes could use him as a case study, and he's not even a real person.

Second, Harry Potter. Before reading the books, I was hesitant. I felt like I would be selling out to mass culture. But now, having read them, I can see why they are so popular. In fact, I would say that they are probably the most culturally influential books that have been written in my lifetime. This is because Rowling does a number of things especially well. First, while Tolkien does a great job of creating a history for his story, Rowling does a great job of creating the world of her story. She creates a unique culture and vocabulary, so that readers can hear about muggles, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, or the Daily Prophet and know exactly what is being spoken of. That's what fantasy fiction does--it creates a new world, and Rowling does that with incredible detail.

Second, the Harry Potter story, from beginning to end, is woven together exceptionally tightly. Events that happen in the first couple books have importance even at the end of the story. Rowling began writing with the end in mind, and each book contributes significantly to the climax of the epic. That's not an easy thing to do in seven books published over a period of ten years. Third, the characterization in the Harry Potter series is very well done. There are a lot of characters in the book, but the reader feels like he really knows each one. The reader is able to anticipate how a character will react to a situation, and each character is unique.

Finally, The Chronicles of Narnia. I think that the greatest feature of these books is that their meaning is the most apparent and the most significant. Not that The Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter don't communicate a message. All literature does. But, in my view at least, the message communicated by Lewis' books is the greatest. In reading of Aslan's interactions with the children who visit Narnia, as well as with Narnia's own inhabitants, one can see how Jesus himself loves the world. What's especially interesting is that Lewis communicates this through children's literature (an umbrella under which The Lord of the Rings and most of the Harry Potter books don't fit). Also, throughout The Chronicles of Narnia, Lewis has a way of including specific lines that I think are so powerful and that have implanted themselves in my mind. Here are some of my favorites:

Mr. Beaver speaking of Aslan: "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you." (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe)

After Lucy asks how to get to Aslan's country from her own world: "'I shall be telling you all the time,' said Aslan. 'But I will not tell you how long or short the way will be; only that it lies across a river. But do not fear that, for I am the great Bridge Builder.'" (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

After Jill asks if Aslan eats girls: "'I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,' said the Lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it." (The Silver Chair)

"The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning." (The Last Battle)

So there's my thoughts. Nothing life-altering, but as someone who likes to write and is interested in how storytellers shape their stories, it's good for me to do some reflection on those who do it especially well. If you've read any of these books, leave a comment and share what you think.

Friend or Fan

This post is going to be about your identity. It's about figuring out on what your identity is built. Before I begin, though, I feel like I should get one point on the table from the start. For each of us, our identity is based ultimately in the person of God. That's where our worth comes from. It's due to the fact that we are beloved creations of God, and nothing can change that. That should bring a great deal of comfort, knowing that no matter what happens in our lives, we can rest assured in the fact that God loves us.

However, that's not what I want to focus on today. Instead, I want you to consider how it is that you portray yourself to other people. How do you want others to relate to you? More specifically, do your base your inter-relational identity on who you are, or on what you do?

I think a problem for many of us is that we overemphasize the latter. We put so much pressure on ourselves to accomplish something. We want achievements. We want titles. We want to be successful in some area so that other people will see it and be impressed with us. We're groomed for this pursuit from the time we're born, it seems. We are told to go to school and work hard so that we can get good grades. We [and by "we," I mean "people other than me"] play sports so that people will take note of our athletic ability. We do everything we can to get good jobs so that we can make money and buy the status symbols that serve as trophies of our success.

All of this is part of our method of relating to others based on what we do. We develop a nearly Marxist self-perception in which our identities are wrapped up in what we produce. So the quest is to constantly produce more and better goods or deeds, because if we falter, then people will stop caring about us.

In a way, when we order our lives like this, we're seeking fame. That's a big part of the dream for many. We want to be famous. We want people to recognize our faces. We want to be congratulated. We want people to stop us on the street and tell us about how we are so great at what we do. We see celebrities on the red carpet, with the crowds pressing in and asking for autographs, and we think about how great it would be. And so, we continue to work and produce and do.

The other approach is to strive to build connections with others by who we are. This is an important difference. When we base our inter-relational identity on what we do, we get fans. We attract people who are intrigued by our ability or achievements. To some, that might sound like a pretty sweet gig, but I think there's something better. Instead of fans, what we really need are friends. A fan is someone who likes you because of what you do. A friend is someone who likes you because of who you are. A friend isn't concerned about whether or not you always produce the greatest thing in the world. A friend wants to be around you even when you fail. When you do something that isn't spectacular. And in the end, fans come and go, but friends tend to stick around. At least the good ones do.

So maybe some of us need to reevaluate where we put our time and energy. Many of us put forth so much effort doing, when what we really need is to simply be. We might need to stop and ask, "Do I want to make fans or friends?" Then we might start doing more to cultivate our characters instead of simply producing.

The Recovery of Worship

There is a danger in being a Bible college student, or in being in ministry. It's talked about quite a bit at Ozark. This danger is that, in one's studies, he may spend extensive time pouring over Scripture, exegeting passages, parsing Greek verbs, memorizing verses, and reviewing ecclesiastical history, but he never applies what he learns to his life. People talk about the danger of the Bible becoming a mere textbook and not the very Word of God that is intended to mold a Christian's ethics. When this happens, we become nothing but hypocrites, preaching that others emulate Christ but failing to do so ourselves.

There is another danger that is not mentioned as much. It is similar to the one I've already described, but is distinct, I think. This danger is that, once again, a Bible student or minister can spend a lot of time in academic pursuits but loses his passion for worship. A person's faith can become wrapped up in books and commentaries and lectures and sermons, but it's not found in reflection and singing and drumming and dancing. As a result, we measure our relationships with Christ by our knowledge and not by our adoration. We begin to see worship as spirituality for the masses. It's for the "average churchgoer" who comes to get their weekly Jesus-fix. We, on the other hand, are much to sophisticated for such base religion, right?

If that's how we think, we need a major overhaul in our attitude. We're in a bad spot when we start to believe that our faith is about only about having the right doctrinal system or knowing the answer to every Bible trivia question, and not at all about standing in awe of the God who's the point of it all. There's an old worship song that says, "I could sing of your love forever," and I remember times in high school when that's exactly how I felt. I think that a lot of people that grew up in church youth groups can think of times of worship when they felt like they could have stood and sung songs of praise for hours.

Nowadays, I don't feel like that too much. When I'm at chapel services at school and we sing songs before the sermon, my mind wanders and I begin to think about how much longer before I can sit down, or about how my legs are tired, or about what homework I need to do that day, or about what I should blog about next. But I reckon these mental meanderings are alright, because hey, worship isn't that important compared to all my other pursuits. And what happens is that my adolescent passion is replaced by rigid formalism. Songs have been replaced with lectures; drumsticks have been replaced with concordances.

But even the greatest theologian needs worship.

The book of Revelation is chock full of songs. On just about every page, someone breaks out in a musical number. Elders lay down their crowns, creatures shout about the holiness of God, and saints sing about how Christ has conquered. Many scholarly articles have been written about the meaning of these hymns in Revelation--about how they provide commentary for the visions that John sees. The hymns are seen as serving the same function as the chorus in Greek drama. All of this might be true, but I think that at the same time, there is so much worship in Revelation because God's majestic nature is seen clearly, and the angels have no choice but to bow down and pour out their hearts in praise. And if angels are so immersed in worship, we should probably be careful of thinking it's below us.

Get 'Er Done

If you're in a hurry, I guess you can skip over this first paragraph. It's going to be about how I'm sorry for not having written in a while, and that my excuse is that I've been really busy. Finished a great big paper for my Revelation class this last week, and that took a lot of time, so it's been hard to find a nice little block of time to write anything. Plus, I haven't really had much of a thought for anything to write because all of my mental power has been directed toward my homework and all of the other stuff I have to do. Blah blah blah. You've heard it all before if you've been reading my blog, because I begin half of my posts by writing something similar.

Which got me thinking (so you see, I really have had an idea!): I wonder how often feelings of obligation lower the quality of my work. Maybe this happens to you too. Often when I have a task to do that I need to get done, I get so anxious to get done with it that I rush through and don't make it as good as I could. I do this even if it's something that I really enjoy doing.

For example, I really like the things that I'm studying at Ozark. I like doing research on a passage of Revelation. I like reading books about what the atonement means. I even like reading Bible commentaries some. But for some reason, when these things are given to me as assignments and I have a deadline to get them done, I forget how much I like the topics, and I just want to get it over with. Because I'm so anxious to be done, I don't spend as much time on it as I could, and the quality of my work suffers.

It's the same way with preparing my sermons for each Sunday. I really like preaching. I like doing the research and the reading, and I like the writing. But because Sunday it always coming, because I have to get my sermon done, my sermons aren't as good as I think they could be. When they are done under obligation, my passion is lessened.

For whatever reason, I was born with an innate sense of obligation. I've always lived with a strong sense of "should-ness." I'm not very rebellious or risk-taking, because I tend to just think, "This is what I'm supposed to/not supposed to do." Normally, I don't even question it. I can't give good answers about why I'm supposed to do it, I just feel like I am. Maybe that's why I get so stressed out over assignments and deadlines. I feel obligation to get these things done. It's just what I'm supposed to do. And the result is that I focus so much on what I have to do, and not very much on what I get to do.

I guess what is needed is an attitude-shift, but it's not an easy shift to make. We need to learn to take genuine joy in our work. We need to learn to wake every morning and think, "What kind of things do I get to do today? What can I do to serve or to work?" Instead, what I find myself asking is "What do I have to do today? What is there that needs done?" And that's not a very good attitude to have. If I did have that sort of attitude, I would actually read back over this post right now and fix the grammatical mistakes and make it a little more clear. But I feel like I need to get it posted, because I have other stuff I have to do tonight. So I guess you'll just have to deal with it.

Confidence Man (With Less Theft)

I like the idea of being a social butterfly. I like to envision myself at a party, moving around the room having meaningful conversations with all sorts of people. I'd like to be one of those people that can create an instantaneous connection with a stranger, as if we are old friends. But I'm not like that. I'm usually pretty uncomfortable in social situations. There is a reason I write blogs, after all.

For example, when I was in middle school, I always looked forward to the school dances. A dance was always on a Friday, and I would anticipate it being the highlight of my whole week. But here's the thing: I can't dance at all, and I couldn't then either. I could do that thing that middle schoolers call "slow dancing" alright, where a guy and girl stand a couple feet apart and sort of touch each other. But I never had the guts to ask a girl to dance, so my limited skills went unused. So I would spend the time awkwardly standing around, and by the time I left the school gym at the end of the event, I would realize that I hadn't had a very good time. But then the next morning, I would wake up and think, "Man, I can't wait till the next dance!" I would vow to myself that next time it would be different, and that I would be the life of the party. A couple months later, the whole process would repeat.

People sometimes tell me that I just need to be more confident. Confidence can be defined as "belief in oneself and one's powers or abilities."  What we often label as confidence, however, is often just the opposite. You might see a guy who sits at a table with others and goes on and on about everything he knows about a given topic, or you see another guy telling a girl how great he was at high school football, and you think, "Now that's a confident guy." In fact, you may even label him as overconfident.

In these sorts of scenarios, what we think of as confidence is actually just the opposite. A person who needs to have a conversation focused on him, who must brag about past accomplishments, or who must put his knowledge or skills on display for everyone to ooh and aah at is demonstrating a lack of confidence. Most of us do this from time to time. We all like attention. We want people to be impressed by us. We put so much stock in others' perceptions of us. A truly confident person does not need to play this game, though. A confident person has enough assurance in himself that he is not overly concerned with what others think about him. He doesn't need to turn the spotlight to himself.

The confident person, then, is able to give real attention to others instead of drawing attention to himself. He makes a conversation about the other person. He asks questions that give others a chance to talk. He encourages. He gives credit to others instead of trying to gobble it up himself. A confident person is much more enjoyable to be around because he isn't trying to win your support like a political candidate lobbying for votes. He's not trying to manipulate you.

Our tendency is to label people who a naturally friendly as "confident," while those who are more reserved are "not confident." However what we often think of as an issue of "confidence vs. lack of confidence" is really not about confidence at all. It's an issue of being outgoing vs. being shy. An outgoing person can be confident (giving genuine attention to others) or not confident at all (desperately trying to impress). In the same way, a shy person can be either confident or not. Because a person is quiet does not mean that person lacks confidence. They just lack outgoingness. These aren't the same.

I am not writing any of this to speak out against those who say I need more confident, because these people are right. They might mean to say that I should be more outgoing (which is possibly true), but I do also need confidence. I like to bring attention to myself. I like to look good. And because of this, I often make my interactions with others about me instead of about them. I need confidence. And perhaps you do too.

To The Republic

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which is stands, one nation under God, with liberty and justice for all.

Every American knows those words. We are taught to recite the Pledge of Allegiance from the time we're born, it seems. They may be the most oft-quoted words in America, except for "Happy birthday" or "So have you read D-Heff's latest blog post?" When I was in elementary school, every day began with the entire student body turning toward the giant American flag hanging on the wall, and we would recite the Pledge of Allegiance with our hands over our hearts. It becomes so routine, in fact, that we don't even give the words a second thought. They're just natural.

I wonder, however: As Christians, should we say the Pledge of Allegiance? Most Christians in this nations would say, "Of course we should. God and country--that's what we're all about." The appropriateness of reciting these words goes unquestioned. I have even been in churches when the entire church says the Pledge of Allegiance together Independence Day (shudder). The more I think about it though, the more I am convinced that the Pledge of Allegiance doesn't have a place in the life of a Christian.

Can a person have allegiance to two kingdoms? That is what it boils down to. As a Christian, I am part of Christ's kingdom. That's where my allegiance lies. Can I, then, also claim to have allegiance to that nation in which I live?

What if we took this concept and put it in a different context? For example, would it be alright for a Christian in China to pledge allegiance to China? Or for a Christian in Iran to pledge allegiance to Iran? Or could a first-century Christian have pledged allegiance to Rome? How then is it acceptable for American Christians to pledge allegiance to the United States? Now, you may argue, "But those other places are pagan nations. We live in a Christian nation." I would disagree with such a proposition. You can check out my earlier treatment of that topic, which is more complete but certainly not exhaustive. Those who think it's okay to give their allegiance to America because we live in a "Christian nation" may not be looking at the American values that are contradictory to God's kingdom. I haven't checked in a while, but the last I knew, "patriotism" wasn't listed as a fruit of the Spirit.

I hesitate a little to post this, because the truth is that I'm not completely sold out on an answer to these questions, though I guess it's obvious which way I'm leaning. But for the most part, publishing ideas that you're unsure on (and not very knowledgeable about) is a dangerous enterprise. So please join in the conversation. Leave a comment and let us know what you think. And enjoy March Madness. It is the most wonderful time of the year.

Authority and Compassion

Recently I finished reading a book called Killing Cockroaches by a guy named Tony Morgan. If I ever write a book, it will probably be one like this one. The whole thing is just a collection of his blog posts. Heck, if that's all it takes to write a book, I've already written one or two. Anyways, in part of his book, Morgan gives a list of reasons why he blogs, and I was surprised when one of them was "People send me free stuff." What?! I've been doing this for two and a half years, and not one of you chumps has sent me anything! It's time for you saps to pick up your end of the deal.

Now that I've totally alienated the bulk of my readership, let me get to what I want to write about today. I have been spending some time reading the gospel of Mark over the past couple weeks. I love that, even though I've read Mark I don't know how many times in my life, God continues to illuminate different things for me. As I have been reading it, I have been struck by the way that, over and over again, Mark points out Jesus' twin characteristics of authority and compassion. On one hand, Jesus demonstrates incredible power and strength, both in word and deed. On the other hand, Jesus is compassionate--he feels concern and love for the crowds that continuously press in on him. These characteristics are not at odds with each other in Jesus, however. They go together. Jesus has authority and compassion, and one does not diminish the other.

We see it from the very beginning of Mark's gospel. Even in the first chapter, we read about Jesus teaching in the synagogue and driving out an evil spirit. After the exorcism, the people in the synagogue are amazed and say, "What is this? A new teaching--and with authority! He even gives orders to evil spirits and they obey him" (1:27). So right away, we are reminded of Jesus' power and authority (which is demonstrated again in the next passage when Jesus heals Simon's mother-in-law, plus everyone else who comes to him that night.) Later in the chapter, a man with leprosy comes to Jesus, begging him to make him clean. Then Mark tells us, "Filled with compassion, Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. 'I am willing,' he said. 'Be clean!'" (1:41). Here, we obviously see Jesus compassion. He reaches out and touches those that the rest of society expels. He embraces those that the world pushes away.

It's much of the same for the rest of the gospel. (Or at least through chapter nine, which is where I am now.) Jesus declares that he has "authority on earth to forgive sins" (2:10). He identifies himself as "Lord [authority!] even of the Sabbath" (2:28). Jesus is the strong man who invades Satan's house and ties him up [more authority] (3:27). The disciples are terrified because "even the wind and the waves obey him [even more authority]" (4:41). A legion of demons recognizes that Jesus has the power to torture them [and yes, once again, more authority] (5:7).

In the same way, Jesus' compassion shows up again and again. Jesus eats dinner with tax collectors and sinners, because they are the sick who need a doctor (2:17). He heals a man with a shriveled hand who was ignored by the religious establishment (3:5). When he tries to get some time alone with his disciples but is intercepted by a huge crowed, "he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd", so he feeds all 5000+ of them (6:34). He heals the daughter of a Syro-Phonecian woman [which Jews would read as "dirty, nasty, unclean, flea-ridden Gentile] (7:30). And, when he feeds yet another crowd of thousands, he says, "I have compassion for these people; they have already been with me three days and have nothing to eat" (8:2).

Authority and compassion. Authority and compassion. You can't get away from them when you read Mark. My favorite story that illustrates this is the account of Jairus' daughter and the bleeding woman--two stories that are twisted together like the strands of a rope. In this text in Mark 5:21-43, both Jairus and the woman are afraid at some point. The woman, who had snuck up behind Jesus, touched his cloak, and been healed, trembles with fear when Jesus finds her out. Why? I think she was afraid that Jesus lacked compassion. She was afraid that he would rebuke her and condemn her for being so presumptuous as to think she can just come up and touch the clothes of such a popular miracle-worker. But, contrary to her fear, she experiences a special display of Jesus' compassion. He doesn't scorn her. He tenderly says, "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering." What a compassionate Christ.

Then there's Jairus. He had come to Jesus to see if he would heal his sick daughter, but while Jesus was busy dealing with the bleeding woman, his daughter had died. So Jairus is afraid, but for a different reason. He is afraid that Jesus lacked authority. He perhaps doubted Jesus' power. Healing a girl is one thing, but bringing her back to life is quite another. Perhaps this one was simply out of Jesus' reach. But then Jesus looks at Jairus and says, "Don't be afraid! Just believe." Then Jesus goes to Jairus' home and brings his daughter back to life, demonstrating that he even has authority over the grave. What a powerful Christ.

At times in life, I am afraid, and I would think that you may be also. Sometimes we are afraid that Jesus does not have authority. We think that there might be a situation in our lives that is just too much for him to handle. We're not sure if he can come through this time. Or, on the other hand, we may be afraid that Jesus does not have compassion. We think that he is unconcerned with our problems. We figure, "He has more important things to worry about, after all." However, the story of Jairus and the bleeding woman (as well as the rest of Mark) reminds us that Jesus has authority and compassion. He is all-powerful and all-loving. And that means being his child is a very good thing to be.

This also has an affect on how we think about our own ministries and our own lives as Christians. If we follow Jesus, we too should be characterized by authority and compassion. We have authority, not in ourselves, but because we preach God's Word and have his Spirit dwelling within us. So let's be bold, not shrinking back, but standing firm through any circumstance. Not only that, but we must have compassion. Let's see other people the way that Jesus sees them--as his children and his flock that are lost without him. Let's reach out and touch the untouchable, love the unlovable, and embrace the outcasts.

Authority and compassion. We see it in Jesus. So let's help the world see Jesus in us.