Response to Media influence

I love questions, not so much for the answer, but for the dialogue that questions promote. Often questions annoy us. I like annoying people - not to be irritating so much as to make people think. I've become more of a thinker myself in the past few years. Annoying questions seem to stick in the minds of those who are confronted. I often pose challenging questions to my students when they seem absolutely sure of their point-of-view. Rethinking their stance is helpful, especially in light of a seeming contradictory stance.

When dealing with the worldview the media promotes, I have begun to ask questions. I ask my students questions about where there opinions and understandings or worldviews were developed. Very often they will admit they were instructed by the media, not by any experienced or thoughtful truth. I try to force them into the Bible as their source of knowledge and opinion, not to cultural norms informed by media messages. Yes, culture needs to be considered, but only against the backdrop of Biblical truth.

I even ask my kids questions when we are watching TV or when they are reading magazines or newspapers. We talk about what the advertisements tell us about the product being promoted and about other images and subliminal messages embedded there. I have found that my kids are not as naive about what the media is trying to teach us about the world. They have become savvy shoppers and readers! I think we all can do this. If we make ourselves conscious that the media is trying to do more than just make us aware of products for our benefit, we will be much better off as consumers and Christians! We need to realize that all advertising and all media is profit driven! Sometimes we are the products that are being sold to advertisers so that they can in turn try to sell us something! That's a sobering thought - we are products!

I'm scared....

I have a few moments this morning before I have to leave for a meeting out of town for a few days. I'm trying to wrap up my final paper for my class at UGA this semester. It has been a fascinating investigation of the media as a system of adult education. As a part of the class we have read material from a variety of sources that criticize the media industry worldwide - some say the media is too liberal while others proclaim it a tool of the political right. The major message that I can't get out of my mind is the way advertising influences the world's value systems and determines the self esteem of our children and youth. As a dad of an 8 year old daughter, with another daughter to be born in February, I'm really frightened for their futures. It is virtually impossible for a girl to grow up in this country with a healthy self image! We cut out television for our kids a few years ago (with the exception of an occasional movie or nature show). Despite this drastic move, the influence of the media is so pervasive that my daughter still says things that shock me about her body or her idea of normal body styles. A few years ago she told me she was getting fat (I've not seen many young girls as slender as she is). She discribes her friends that are normal size as heavy or big. Luckily, she has not fallen victum to the "prissy" image. She critiques many of the girls in her class as only interested in how they look. She's more interested in getting messay playing tackle or chase with the boys and tomboys during recess than standing around with the prissy girls talking about hair, make-up and clothes. However, I've read the statistics: the vast majority of girls hit puberty and develop low senses of self esteem. As I read magizines, stories in books, and watch movies, the messages of what is pretty and what is considered normative behavor is frightening. If one believes the messeages promoted in advertisements girls are supposed to look like supermodels, be dumb as dirt (or at least keep their opinions to themselves), dress like a ho, flirt without shame, be submissive to their husbands/boyfriends sexually, be professional, make lots of money, spend lots of money, do all of the housework, solely care for the children, have low expectations of their husbands, never look over 25, always be concerned about their looks above all else, do whatever it takes to make their man happy, do whatever it takes to look young and sexy, etc. Frankly, the prospect is mind numbing!

I pray every day that I will have the wisdom and the unnatural skill to be able to teach my daughter how God views her - as an amazing, unique, gifted, intellegent, creative individual who knows who she is and is not concerned what others think about her. I want her to, if she chooses to date or marry, find someone who treats her with respect and honor, who values who she is as a person, who tries to make her better in all respects, who submits to her needs and desires, and who wants her to be all that God is creating her to be.

I pray we as a Christian community will find a way to counter the negative and harmful media messages that are blown into our minds each day on TV, on billboards, in magazines, on the Internet, and the radio at every turn so that we can give our children and friends correct messages about who they are and who they should be! May God help us in this impossible quest!

Identifying our Passion

In reading Erwin McManus' The Barbarian Way this morning I was reminded about all of the times I've tried to civilize my faith-walk and, worse, the faith-journeys' of others. McManus reminds me that I need to encourage extreme dreams, outlandish behavior, and radical stances that counter the culture that surrounds and imprisions us from experiencing the abundant life Jesus described. The question that is bouncing around in my head this morning is "how can I nurture radical dreams and actions for God on this campus and in this community?" What do you think? How is God dreaming of a new world in your life?

Advent around the dinner table....

Last night, sitting around the dinner table, brought an experience and made a memory that I hope I never forget. It was one of those perfect moments where the world seemed to stop and my family was all that mattered. It was an incredible time. We all had things we needed to be doing. My son had masses of make-up work from missing a few days of school last week before the Thanksgiveg break in addition to one of those "creative" book report projects that parents hate, but teachers seem to love assigning. My daughter needed to work on some homework as well and catch up on some reading she has been putting off. My wife and I needed to be doing things around the house, since it is on the market. You've been there, the list of things that need to be done to make the house "appear" perfect, not cluttered and sellable never seems to end! I also had a major paper due for the class I'm taking at the university - one third of my grade - in addition to a sermon that I have to deliver tonight. We all had too many things to do, but some how, in the midst of the stress of life and the extensive to-do lists, we managed one of those magical moments when nothing matters but each other. The kids were having a great time, eating and cutting up at the same time. Things that usually bother Karen and I didn't seem so annoying - who cares if Natalie eats most of her meal standing beside her chair instead of seated in it? Who cares if the kids talk with food bulging from their way-to-full mouths? Who cares if the normal bath-time has already passed? Nothing seemed to matter but enjoying each other.

I wish I new how to make those magical moments come every meal time. I wish I could swish a wand or snap my fingers and adjust everyone's attitudes (including my own) to be just as they were last night. I wish I could consistantly push aside all of the things in my mind to make room for family like we managed to do.

I guess that is what Advent is really all about: taking a moment, a season, to look beyond ourselves and our silly little lives or even our major, catastrophic issues and see the Holy family and new friends surrounding the tiny baby, lying in a feed trough, doing what babies do. He could have been easily un-noticed, easily bypassed, but for the choir of angels, and the shepards trudging through town in search of him. He was bypassed by many, just as we often bypass those moments, those precious times with which God has gifted us each day.

Take a break - experience the many joys, the many gifts of life and love that God has placed before you today. Learn to soak up life; for Jesus promised, "I have come that you may have life."

Prayer - a simple conversation?

Why is it that we make things so difficult? My job places me as the sounding board for lots of students who are, or who want to be in relationships. I could almost script most of the conversations in advance - "what is he really thinking" or "what did she mean by that" or "do you think he likes me; I mean, really likes me?" The games we tend to play in our interactions with each other seem to carry over into our relationship with God. It's not that God plays communication games with us - "heh, heh - I'll be she'll never figure our what I'm doing now!" or "I think I'll play hard to get now" or "Let's through a pox his way and see how he responds!" But we often relate to God as if God is playing games with us! As a result we won't just talk to God. I don't mean give a list of our wants (like a grocery or Christmas list), but really converse with God waiting for God to answer before we go seeking advice from friends who were never a part of the conversation in the first place! Why don't we just relax, grab a sandwich and head out to the lake with God for a casual afternoon chat? Why don't we just hang out with God like we do with those we love? Why don't we take God fishing? Biking? Running? Studying? To the Coffee Shop we frequent (some of us way too much)? To the concert? To the movies? To, well, you fill in the blank? Basically, we need to realize that we don't take God anywhere - God is already everywhere! I love the concept (very Biblical, by the way) expressed in the old-school praise song, "This is the air I breathe, your holy presence, living in me." The concept of God as spirit, air, wind, and breathe comes from the Hebrew word that can be translated as any of these words - "RUAH." Prayer should be as simple as breathing, as simple as casual conversation with a very close friend. The God who breathed life into Adam (Genesis 2) is the same God that, in Jesus, breathed his spirit into the disciples in the upper room after his resurrection (John), and who was the mighty wind of the Holy Spirit falling upon the church in Acts, and who fills our lungs each day with Life, Grace, Peace and HOPE! It is the God who lives; the God who breathes, the God who wants us to know him through conversation each day, all day, as we go about the live God has blessed us with living. Take time to chat today with your constant companion, your breath of life, your God!

I'm a fan...

Today I attended my first Catalyst conference at the Gwinnett Arena - I'm a fan. Looking towards the end of the year with conference money budgeted (that I would lose if it was not spent), I took the advice of some friends and registered for Catalyst after briefly scanning the website. I had planned to stay near the arena, however, childcare issues emerged their ugly head. We determined it would be better if I dropped the kids at school and then made a mad dash toward Duluth - normally a 45 minute to 1 hour drive from home. I awoke this morning to a refreshing rain, something we have been without for about 3 weeks. Usually I would be thrilled, but for those of you not used to driving in Atlanta, rain turns normal traffic headaches into migraines! I dropped the kids off at school at 7:25 and started my trek. I should have been early under normal circumstances. Listening to NPR en route, I didn't notice how slow the going was until I turned off of Hwy 316 in Lawrenceville and began to creep towards Duluth. I arrived 30 minutes late to the conference. I had no idea what to expect. Some of my students were jealous that I was attending this year, while they had to stay in Athens for class.
I was treated to some great worship music and then hearing Andy Stanley kick off the event. After a break of wandering the booths, and navigating (in awe) the crowd of 10,000 folks who streamed into the passages of the Arena at the close of the first session, Louie Giglio took the stage as the speaker for the second session. The speakers were good that morning, but the highlight was participating in setting a world record for the most folks to simultaneously sit on whoopee cushions! Yes, I'll be in the next Guinness Book of World Records. Alas, though they have my name as a participant (we all had to sign a little form to prove the numbers), I doubt very seriously that my name will actually appear - but hey, my butt will be represented under that curious heading!
The morning was so powerful I decided not to eat lunch with friends, but to grab some grub alone so I could think and process. I ate at Moe's Chinese cousin's place, Mama Fu's (at least they have the same designer). It was great. I got the feeling I needed some ice cream to top it off. I searched around the area but could find none. But, when I got back to the Arena I remembered Brusters! I had a huge cone of Butter Pecan Ice Cream while wandering (again) around the booths and displays.
The afternoon session was kicked off by more great worship music and Blue Like Jazz author Donald Miller. He is a great speaker - he is just as I imagined he would be after reading his book, witty, rambling, but with a punch.
I can't wait to go back tomorrow for the second half. Erwin McManus starts the day!
I know this is devoid of any spiritual specifics - I need to do some more processing and soul searching before I make any deep pronouncements or proclamations. However, once again it seems God is up to something big in my life. I'm glad - been kinda dry over the past few months. Or maybe I've just been in shock after discovering we are going to have a baby in a few months. Our two kids came along the easy route - we adopted. OK, it was not easy - it was 12 years of turmoil and stress of infertility then failed adoption attempts before they arrived with us 5.5 months apart. We didn't think there would be anymore kiddos. However, sometime just before our 20th wedding anniversary conception happened in my wife's once "barren" womb. I just laughed out of shock.
More later....

Prayer fascinates and baffles me

Prayer - my connection with God, my soul's lifeblood, my river of peace. Prayer fascinates and, yet, baffles me. How does it work? Why does it work? What does prayer actually do? When do answers come? How does one differentiate between the results of prayer from basic coincidence?
My response to these questions - whether others have asked them of me or I asked them of myself - has most often been, "I don't know, but by faith and experience, I know it works." I still come back to that response, even in the midst of deepest doubt or questions. Remembering when God has miraculously intervened in my life and the lives of those around me gives hope and deepens my faith.
Several books have been helpful in forming my current thoughts: The Prayer of Jesus, by Ken Hemphill; Prayer: Finding the Heart's True Home, by Richard Foster; and Quiet Talks on Prayer, by S. D. Gordon. I have been practicing prayer in many different ways over the past few weeks and have become convinced that there is not just one way to pray. Often we are told that praying during a daily "quiet time," in our "prayer closet," while "on our knees" is the most appropriate (and essential) method for all growing Christians. To say that there is one model or method to pray negates the very different personalities with which God has endowed humans. Studying personality theory (particularly Myers/Briggs) and the applications of that theory on spirituality has shown me that there are many different methods to pray, some of which are more comfortable or natural for certain personalities than for others. There are extroverted prayers and introverted prayers. There are prayers that are more appropriate for people who are logical and systematic and others for those who are more emotional and laid back. And that is a good thing! In most churches, when we have taught children to pray we teach one way (bow your head, close your eyes, fold your hands in front of you....). How tragic! People who are not comfortable praying like that often grow up feeling unspiritual. Those of us who are spontaneous and who like change grow up feeling we are not disciplined spiritually because we don't have a specific time each day when we pray for a specific amount of time. We don't have a prayer journal that traces our prayer for the many years since we have called ourselves Christians. Does that make us any less Christian, any less spiritual than those who find such prayer practices natural?
This morning I found a message in my inbox from the Bruderhof community (http://www.bruderhof.com/articles/jca/Painting.htm?source=DailyDig) that speaks to this issue. It was rather refreshing! Foster's book on prayer teaches several different methods of prayer discipline and practice. There are some great resources written by those who have worked with the Myers/Briggs Personality Inventory from a spiritual perspective. These are very helpful and enlightening to the students I work with. It is very freeing to discover that our natural tendencies are not weird or radical, but are normal outcomes of who God has created us to be.
Instead of locking ourselves and others into a tightly defined definition of prayer, lets pray with freedom and playfulness, learning to communicate with God in ways similar to the way we communicate with others. Lets help others discover ways they can find freedom in Christ through prayer!

God is at the Beach....

Once again I've become convinced that God can be easily found at the beach - any beach, especially early in the morning and just before the sun goes down at night. At other times God is definitely here, but, ah, there are too many distractions! We are at our annual Hilton Head family vacation this first week of June 2005. The whole family is here. Though we thought this year may be a bit sad because of the obvious absence of my father after his death at the end of June last summer, it has been an amazingly calm emotional time. Dad has been mentioned, but only with fond memories and without tears or sadness. It was dad who decided that our family needed to have a rallying point each year for a get together. As a result he bought a timeshare with Marriott here at Hilton Head. This is our ninth year of coming to the beach this first week of June. Since that first crowded year - 22 people trying to fit into a 2 bedroom condo. We vied for days we could be here, each of us wanting the most possible time with the most people possible. Dad bought another unit the next year. Last year mom purchased yet another one. Now we have 3 two bedroom units all in the same week. It's much more comfortable now!
As we gather each year we enjoy each other and the ocean. Each family cooks one night of the week - and tries to out-do each other with what we prepare and serve. We eat very well while here! Stuffing our faces each evening is balanced with time exercising, playing, and relaxing.
It seems that not only is God found in the waves, the surf, the sand, and the old growth oaks that canopy the roads and bike paths, but God is also found in family, in community. Combine the two elements and utopia is present!
My soul is being refreshed this week. My my mom, my brother, his wife and I are all reading great books about God and the church. Mom just finished Blue Like Jazz. Paul and Terri are reading A Generous Orthodoxy, and I am reading a few books by Capon - one of which is on the parables. All have sparked great conversations that seem very appropriate in this setting. It seems that while here, surrounded by the presence of God in nature, we are all able to see God in new light and explore communal expressions of God's presence in new ways - ecclesia - church. It's been fun. I pray that we will continue to grow in grace, truth, and soul satisfaction this week!

Unfinished....

I suppose McLaren is not the first to end his book A Generous Orthodoxy with the word "and," but it is the first one I have read that ended that way. In doing so he apply illustrates that our "becoming" as people of God and our knowledge of God is never finished, we are always in process. I have been looking forward to reading this book for quite awhile. I plucked it off of the floor of my office out of the line of books waiting to be read. Since shelf space is full, books fresh from Amazon.com are unpacked, embossed with my book seal, and are placed in line at my feet. The collection currently forms two lines on the floor near my desk. This summer I hope to move some little referenced titles to my home shelves, getting these treasures off of the floor. I also hope to read most of them, adding them to the read and marked titles on my shelves.
In A Generous Orthodoxy I have found words for much of my thinking over the past few years. However, McLaren often takes my thoughts to the next level, pushing me toward a more complete understanding and application of grace in this post-modern and emerging society of which we find ourselves apart. My wife keeps cautioning me not to use the word "postmodern" because of the negative press it has received in my tribe - southern Baptists. In part I understand the fear that my colleagues have when hearing the word - it implies a loss of all that has been held dear, that has been found to be true, and that has been fought for, defended and won over the past few years. For some it implies sleeping with the enemy. For others it implies a return to the fast flowing liberal rivers of uncontrollable thought and progress that our American society seems to be advocating. I understand their fear.
An avid road cyclist, I have recently begun mountain biking in order to ride with my 7 year old son. Road biking is comfortable for me. Yes, passing cars and trucks can be scary. But I understand it. I can see the potential hazards ahead. I know the challenges. I know the process. But riding in the woods and on trails of rocks and roots is not so simple or comfortable. Traveling at 20 miles per hour is a normal pace on a paved road, but in the woods, over rocks, down hills and into streams that same speed is terrifying! I finished my first ride on the local Heritage Park trail with forearms cramped with pain from griping my handle bars and breaks. I was petrified for most of the ride. It only makes since logically that when bouncing along a rough road with unseen turns, drops, bumps and other obstacles one should maintain a tight grip on ones ride. I am learning, however, that the opposite is true. To successfully navigate a trail, one must ride relaxed, maintaining balance over the bike, but loosening one's grip on the bars, rising slightly in the saddle (seat), and letting the bike do the work. It's a scary proposition, but it works. Riding like this allows the bike to shimmy and bounce all over the trail. But the shocks and the tires take the beating, while balance is maintained, and the trill and exhilaration of the ride can be experienced. I've fallen much less and enjoyed the rides much more practicing this seemingly contradictory way of biking and of "faithing." For I've found that practicing faith in this postmodern world is similar to riding the trails. I have a firm grasp on the bible and on my faith. I've read and digested several systematic theologies. I understand the practice of Christian Ethics. But I have found that in this changing word approaching the practice of my faith as one who has all of the answers, who knows all of the right ways of doing things, who holds the secrets to the heart of God is only going to give me cramping muscles and a sore body from falling quite often. I need to allow my faith to do the work while I navigate this newly emerging world I live in. If I approach it with my head instead of my heart I'm going to be constantly frustrated. Faith is a process.... Acknowledging that I don't have all of the answers to the changing questions of this era is a good thing, an essential thing. Walking through life alongside both believers and nonbelievers of the Gospel is essential for my faith and to give us all a chance to grow and learn and become the folks God wants us to be. I cannot grow while remaining tightly bound by my little box of faith. I must release it from it's container and let God grow it in dialogue with others, with continued reading of the Bible, and with constant practice in all areas of life. To do so is the become comfortable with a lives we all live that end as McLaren's book with a never complete, never final, and....

It's happened again...

I hate to admit it, but it has happened again: I have fallen victum to the consumerism that purvades our day. At times I am able to sink my life in my faith and family, forgetting all of the superfilious "stuff" that is hawked on t.v., magazines, websites and in stores as essentials for happiness and even comfort. However, gradually, almost unperceptably at first my eyes begin to wander, my wants begin to grow and before long I'm caught up in a cyclone of lust for stuff. The crazy part is that the only way I usually realize my state is when my credit card bill arrives. Cardiac arrest almost ensues. I look at the balance due and gulp, assured that there must be some grave mistake, some over charge, some double billing going on. As I scan the list of expenses, $14.76 for basics at Kroger, $52.49 for gifts and household items at Walmart, $7.22 for lunch at Ben's Barbeque Bistro, $2046.00 for the two bikes at Sunshine (but he gave me such a deal!), and the list goes on and on and on. I can rationalize all of the "expenses" - we have to eat, my kids have to attend birthday parties, i have to have deoderant, I was at lunch with a student, I have been planning on buying a new bike for years.... But when the bill comes, if I allow myself a moment of sanity I realize that I have been thoughtless and out of control. The thrill of the search and purchase doesn't compare to the reality of owning the "much needed" product. When sitting in the piles of stuff in my house or office that item that looked so appealing on the internet doesn't have quite the charm it once did. Some months I shake my head in dismay - "I did it again." Some months I just pay the balance, file the bill and move on without a thought. But then there are months like this one, months when a confuence of events seem to push me towards a more healthy place. I realize that it's not all about the stuff. The bill arrived in the midst of the business of last week. I didn't have time to think about much execpt packing my suitcase or backpack for my trips. This morning, however, I was sobered once again by Brian McLaren. In A Generous Orthodoxy I read, "The fact is, all religions are under threat... from the McDonalization and Wal-Martization of the world, from global consumerism, from forces that emanate... from New York and Hollywood - forces that make all religions equally superfluous, trivial compared to the lust for a new car or a new pair of jeans" (p. 254).

It's in moments like this that I find I have been quenching my thirst for God by stuffing my soul with lust for stuff. Upon close inspection I feel like a burrito from Moe's Southwest Grill that has been too stuffed and bursts when wrapped. I think I just need another wrapper, one more substantial, or maybe a more skilled burrito maker. But the reality is that I need to remove some of the filling - in fact, most of it needs to be cast aside. How much stuff does one person need? What values am I teaching my kids? Where does it end? How can I be so nieve?!? I think it's time for a period of fasting and a re-evaluation....

Memories....

Dance with My Father... Some memories will last a lifetime: this is one for me! When I take my family to weddings or other events where dancing is offered, Natalie alway asks, "Daddy, will you dance with me?" How can one refuse such a request? A student snapped this one on her camera phone while we were doing the "shag" at the recent BSU Formal.

It's not about me...

It is so easy to fall into thinking that the world revolves around me. We are the center of our own experiences. We are our points of view. Why not make the short jump to imagining that we are actually the center of the universe? Oh admit it! You do it too!

This morning as sip my cup a Joe (a bit too much sugar added) reading from the Psalms, I was unexpectedly knocked off of my high horse of self-centeredness. Let me set the scene. In Psalm 75 the people are gathered for worship. They utter the well-worn phrase in hum drum fashion, "We give thanks to you, O God; [perhaps with yawn?] we give thanks; your name is near [I wonder what's for lunch]. People tell of your wondrous deeds." And then God has the nerve to speak up! He was in this worship service, though the people didn't really care, or maybe didn't even believe he showed up anymore. God says, "...When the Earth totters, with all its inhabitants, it is I who keep its pillars steady. I say to the boastful, 'do not boast,' and to the wicked, 'do not lift up your horn; do not lift up your horn on high, or speak with insolent neck.'" (verses 3-5).

"Oops," I mutter. I guess God takes this perspective thing pretty seriously! Perhaps I should remind myself each day which way is up and who is really King of the Mountain! "OK Nate, write 10,000 times 'God is in charge, I am not.'"

I guess I get the picture. We all need reminders occasionally that it's not about me!

Awesome Wonder

Amazement, wonder, doubt, and faith - essential parts of my whole experience with God, came rushing back this morning as I was reading Blue Like Jazz, by Donald Miller. It is so very easy to explain everything. I often joke with my students when asked if I can answer a question, "Sure, if I don't know the answer, I can make something up that sounds profound." Sadly, that is sometimes what I find myself doing.

This has been another of "those weeks" - not the kind that one never wants to repeat, but one that was very full and very satisfying. I've felt like I mattered. I've felt that things I've been working toward for 8 years are finally coming together. Both of my children are talking about Jesus. My son will probably "walk the aisle" this morning at church. After her birthday party my daughter and I lay in her bed last night talking about Jesus until almost 11:30 last night. She's (finally) asking questions about what baptism means and why she needs to do it. At work 5 years of dreaming and visioning is coming together. The students are catching on without me trying to manipulate them - it's cool to see. And, on a selfish note, I got the 2 bikes I've been dreaming of for many years, a new road bike and a mountain bike (which I've never had). It's been a good, though tiring time.

I've realized (again) that even though things are going well for me, there is much more beyond myself and my own little world. Oh I would love to take credit for everything happening in my children's and my student's lives. And yes, I've had a part in that. But ultimately this is all God's work. I am just a bit player on a stage I cannot even comprehend. I look outside and wonder where the leaves came from all of a sudden. They were not there a week ago. I had nothing to do with it. In fact, with the little care I give to my yard it's a miracle there is anything alive out there!

Oh Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder, Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, Thy power throughout the universe displayed.

In Blue Like Jazz, Miller writes, "At the end of the day, when I am lying in bed and I know the chances of any of our theology being exactly right are a million to one, I need to know that God has things figured out, that if my math is wrong we are still going to be okay. And wonder is that feeling we get when we let go our our silly answers, our mapped out rules that we want God to follow. I don't think there is any better worship than wonder" (p. 206). If only I could remember that all the time. It's too easy to forget, too easy to return myself to the center of the court, too easy to accept all of the (imagined) applause, too easy to forget about the divine mystery in the midst of everyday life! But in those seconds of remembering, the awe washes over me like a flood. My heart chills, my mind goes numb, and I find myself having collapsed to my knees before God - filled with a mixture of terror, exuberation, praise and speechlessness all rolled into one emotion -

Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee, How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee, How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

- and quietly, slowly, imperceptivity, I hear my soul humming, then singing then shouting the words -

When Christ shall come, with shout of acclamation, And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart.
Then I shall bow, in humble adoration, And then proclaim: "My God, how great Thou art!"

- and I realize, all at once that I am surrounded by the universe, not just one or two other folks like at church, but the whole universe - all people, every rock and tree, every planet, all created things - is also singing, praising God, each of us in our own unique way! And I think, "how could I not have seen this? How can I miss it? How can I become so self absorbed that I don't know my purpose is to live my life in such a way that all that I do, all that I say, all that I am is singing songs of praise to God?!?

And then I don't feel the need to answer all of the questions anymore. It's OK not to know. It's OK to allow children and students to wonder....

The Congo and me....

I'm reading Blue Like Jazz, by Donald Miller. It has been sitting on my floor for months, just waiting to be read (yes, the floor. I'm out of shelf space in my office). I was hoping to get a jump on my well-read students, to read something they had not seen yet. This past week several have walked in and asked, "have you read that yet? Wow! What a great book." So I decided I better start reading.
Blue is a different sort of book about living the Christian faith. It has themes similar to many I have read (and that's a lot of books), but the way Miller tells his story of search for and struggling with faith is quite different than most. He is honest about it all. I mean, he tells his struggles, his doubts, his continious wrestling with matters of faith and truth and belief and practice.
A few passages have grabbed my attention and won't let me go. One is at the end of the second chapter.

"I know now, from experience, that the path to joy winds through this dark valley. I think every well-adjusted human being has dealt squarely with his or her own depravity. I realize this sounds very Christian, very fundamentalist and browbeating, but I want to tell you this part of what the Christians are saying is true. I think Jesus feels strongly about communicating the idea of our brokenness, and I think it is worth reflection. Nothing is going to change in the Congo until you and I figure out what is wrong with the person in the mirror." (p. 23, italics mine)

Wow. After reading those lines I had to put the book down for a few minutes and pray for forgiveness. No, the thought is nothing new. But in the context of Miller's personal struggle with honest faith it forced me to realize that it is all connected. My actions, thoughts and non-actions do make a difference across the world. There is a ripple effect to sin. Somehow, even my secret sin infects the world like a virus. The answer is not a hefty dose of antibiotics but a reality check by Jesus. Is my life reflecting the life of Jesus? Am I honestly seeking to engage the world, not just those like me, but everyone I come across, with the love of Christ that is supposed to be living in and flowing from me? Miller doesn't call himself a follower of Christianity, but of Christian spirituality. It sounds like a minor difference, but it is not. To him Christianity has become a dirty word that is tossed around by politicians and those who seek to impress. It has been used to justify terrible things in the name of Christ - the crusades and worse. Miller suggests we need a new, honest name. I think I agree.

Through the fog of Easter morn...an interruption!

I awoke this rainy, contemplative Easter morn to find my son's grinning face about two inches from mine. He had a look of expectancy and excitement most often reserved for Christmas morning. Even my morning breath didn't trouble the smile in his eyes. "When can we go down stairs," he asked? I grunted and pulled him into bed beside me, hoping snuggling would send him back to dreamland - not a chance! I dozed every few minutes, only to be awakened again by his question, "Dad, when can we go downstairs?" As my wife and I slowly emerged into the world of the living, chasing the fog out from between our ears, longing for a hot cup of java, we told him to go see if his sister was awake.

By 7:20 we were all headed down the steps. I went first to turn on the coffee pot and to get the camera out and ready for that "perfect shot." I wanted to capture the looks on their faces when they found the stash left by the Easter Bunny (or, in the words of my wise-before-her-years 7 year old daughter, the "balding bunny that looks a lot like dad!"). After pictures were taken, chocolate bunny's ears eaten, toys unpacked, paper grass strewn all over the kitchen, and my wife had gone up for a shower, I was left alone at the table pondering the significance of this day. In many ways there is no difference between today and any other lazy Sunday morning. And that's the beauty of it! That's the amazing thing about God. This morning, this Easter morning, God has burst forth into our world once again, interrupting the normal, offering a difference from the status quo, and offering to make a difference in our lives. It is ours to choose to accept the difference that Christ offers or to turn our backs on his gift to return to the normal, mundane existence this so-called life offers. God is not going to force us to make a change we do not freely choose to make.

Unlike my children who arose this Easter morning expecting something new, the women who headed to the tomb early that first Easter morning didn't give up or give in (unlike the male followers of Jesus). They held on to their love for Jesus, risking everything to do one last bit of service for their master, cleaning his battered body and annointing it for a proper burial. They went to the tomb expecting death, not a surprise. They went out of love and duty. They expected to have to negotiate with the soldiers there guarding the tomb to roll the stone away so they could cover Jesus' bruised and scarred body with spices and oils, chasing away the stench of death that was sure to come in the hot climate of Jerusalem. What they found, however, offered to change everything for all of history.

On that normal Sunday morning they discovered an interruption. The day was the same as any other - the sun was up, the streets were beginning to bustle with people, the path to the tomb was still rocky, the morning fog was just lifting, the loads of spices the women were carrying were still heavy, the brambles along the way still snagged clothing and scratched skin. The difference was found when the women reached their destination. Collapsing to their knees in amazement, grief and unbelief they found the stone gone, the guards gone and the body of their beloved master gone. Their grief was compounded. The fog of confusion filled their minds, numbing their senses. Tears of pain filled their eyes, blinding them even to each other. Questions of "what," "Why?" and "how?" were all that they could vocalize. Their sobs filled the air. Into this scene two angels appear and then a gardener. More confusion. Nothing seems right. The women, assuming the gardener was there to start his day, to till the soil, pull some weeds, tend the olive trees and nurture the spring flowers, asked him what had happened. They assumed that either he knew something or had himself done something with Jesus' body.

"Mary" - the word breaks through the confusion. In an instant the fog is blown away. Clarity comes. Hope shatters grief. Life is made new. Everything has changed. In an instant, reality is seen. The rules determining "the way the world works" no longer exist. Jesus has made things new. God has again intervened into life. Once again, the curse of sin lifted, God is walking in the garden with his last creation, the one who by her choice brought sin into existence and a curse on all of humanity. Eden was reborn that morning - a day like any other, yet so different.

This morning I was greeted by the daily dig from bruderhof.com. The final paragraphs are a propro:

"Again and again Christ arises anew. In what we know of the risen Christ, God wants to renew all things. His will is for the earth as much as it is for the heavens. Otherwise we would never know his reality. We could never conceive of anything becoming different. We would think that his resurrected life was some spiritual thing that we human beings could not understand. That’s not what it is. No. The power of his resurrection is something that is within our reach.

New possibilities can dawn on us, and the more we sense these new possibilities, either in our bodies or in our souls, the more we can ask for, the more we can look for higher and greater things here on earth. Actually, there are no limits. And for this reason we can bring hope into everything, into our daily life, into everything at which we work and into anything that we touch. The power that comes from God is ready to be brought into our human situation, and in such a way as to transform it.

Therefore, we must not turn our attention to the darkness, the evils, and the imperfections of the earth, nor are we to try to figure out how this or that matter is going to turn out. All that has nothing to do with us. We are simply to ask Jesus to give us more and more of his resurrection, until it runs over, until the extraordinary powers from on high that are within our reach can get down to work on all that we do."

The amazing thing I noticed this morning is that each day we are like those women who travel down the path to the tomb. Each morning as we struggle to wake up, it is like we are emerging from the fog to discover emptiness in the tomb of existence we call "life". However, the reality we think we see is only an illusion. Each morning, Jesus presents us with an interruption - the opportunity to begin again, to see life anew from God's perspective, and to be surprised by grace. We then have a choice; do we walk in light of this new life or do we return to the point-of-view of the night - that there is no hope, that our savior is gone, that they only thing that matters is protecting our skin and learning from our gullibility in having faith in something more? Which do we choose? I return to Joshua - "I choose life" in Christ today and everyday. Each day I choose to allow Jesus to make me a new creation - to remake me, a bit more at a time, into his image. I choose to live a life of anticipation, knowing all the while that along the way I will be surprised by Jesus' presence in ways and in places I never imagined. I choose to become he who God is creating me to be! Join the adventure along with me! Choose the interruption!

Do you want to be healed?

"Do you want to be healed?," Jesus asked the crippled man at the pool of Bethzatha (John 5:6). For many of us we seem to enjoy our infirmities. When our faith presents us with the option for healing we shudder and shake our heads, "ah, no; not just yet." We have not only become comfortable with our security blankets of sin, neurosis or illness that we would be lost without them. Deep down we must admit that our very identities have become emeshed with our quirks and abnormalities. We all want to be individuals. Often the very things that are keeping us from being all that God is creating us to be are the very things we hold on to with a death grip. We can't seem to see that all we have to do is let go....
In John 5 we miss the internal turmoil that must have gone on within the mind of the sick man that Jesus approached. Was his failure to be well really due to his inability to get to the water? Or, over the years, had he become accustomed to hanging out with his buddies beside the beautiful fountain at the Sheep Gate? Oh, once upon a time he may have tried unsuccessfully to get into the water. Those faster and younger nudged ahead of him. Eventually he came to enjoy his place, his well-worn spot there beside the pool. He had all of his needs met there. He could hang out with friends, collect a bit of money from passersby on their way to the temple, have his family bring him food and take him home in the evening - it was a decent life, and he didn't even have to go to work! Being healed would change everything!
Yet, here Jesus dared to ask him the question, "Do you want to be healed?" And though our sick friend didn't answer a hearty, "yes," he didn't say "no" either! Jesus took his timid, whiny excuse as a "yes" and told him to get up and walk. A new man was born on that porch early that Sabbath morning, choosing to act, choosing life, choosing healing instead of comfort.
Each of us this Easter week are presented with the same choice as we sit, comfortable in our sin, our sickness, our neuroses, our half-baked excuses for partial faith; "Do you want to be healed?" And here too Jesus doesn't wait for us to give him a yes! As we begin our oft repeated and well rehearsed litany of excuses, Jesus tells us to get up, take our mat and begin the journey toward wholeness. The next step is ours. We discover in this moment of decision that faith is action! Belief really doesn't matter until it is acted upon.
So, what will we do this day? "Do you want to be healed" Jesus asks?

Dad had a saying...

Just got the following email from my mom:
Papa used to say, "There is one Month of the year which has a command," Today is that day of that Month " MARCH FOURTH" That came to mind yesterday as I was looking at the calendar. He observed that command every day of his life. What ever he was going to do, he went at it with determination and dogged stubborness. Not to be deterred by anything. God Bless you each one as you go today. March Forth with confidence and committment. I love you.
Mama

It is cool to hear of things those important to us have said. I don't remember dad giving this particular advice. However, it is now locked away in my memory - I will use it mysef from now on! There are many things on my to be done list that I need to give some attention to today. It's way too easy for me to procrastinate, doing the fun things I'd rather do. Funny how when one needs prompting it often comes from the most unlikely sources!

The hokey pokey or love?

Just thinking a bit tonight.... Remember the song, "the hokey pokey"? Remember the line, "that's what its all about"? What if that is what it's all about, just putting your left foot in, taking your left foot out? Sure would be a bit easier to do this thing called life, wouldn't it?
I've been leading a few Bible studies around our place, trying to get back to the basics. Recently we studied first, second and third John. Doing so kinda drove me back to the gospel by the same guy - you know, the book of John. The three letters are all rather simple, each progressively shorter than the one before it. But all deal with one subject - love. Quite simply, John understood that the core of what followers of Jesus should believe and live is love. That love is shown in love for God (following the commandments) and love for each other. For the apostle you can't have one without the other. When I went back to the Gospel I discovered something quite amazing - I had assumed that John wrote the 3 letters as an old, wiser man. As he matured his understandings simplified to a core issue. However, when reading the gospel there is the same, simple message from beginning to middle to end - love. In fact, the very center of the book contains this "a new commandment I give you, that you love one another" - wha.... A new commandment? Yep, that's Jesus speaking.
For John, the beLOVEd disciple, the central issue, and the only issue that really mattered is love. Somehow we have missed that. Somehow we have made it all about doctrine and worship and things we must do and must not do and on and on and on. Oh that we would really get it. Oh that we would return to such a simple understanding of the gospel - love for God and love for others! That is my prayer. That is my goal.
Oh, and I'll keep doing the hokey pokey too - it's rather fun, even if it's not really what life's all about.

Chris won!

My buddy Chris Conley won the Bryan's Meats lymeric contest! Thanks for all who voted! Here is the winning entry:

Lou Holtz was a world famous worrier,

Poor-mouthin' to scribes at the Courier,

But I'm sorry to say,

That he's had to make way,

For another Old Ball Coach named Spurrier.

Baby it's cold outside....

I’m sitting at my kitchen table this cold Sunday morning – missing the warmth of the Sanctuary of my church. The ice storm crept into the area Friday evening, a mild mist of crystals slowing drifting across the landscape, covering absolutely everything. When we awoke on Saturday morning, the widows cast a hazy glow into our home. Looking outside the milky white light seemed to engulf everything in sight. It was a while before I ventured out to get the newspaper. Crunching and sliding slowly across the yard I carefully bent to pick up the plastic wrapped bundle. However, it too was frozen in place, coated by a shimmering layer of ice. I had to kick it free.
Walking back to the house I noticed the children’s faces grinning at me from the satellite windows on either side of the front door. I quickly made ice balls to toss in their direction. They were overcome with glee. Of course, I had to make an extra ball of ice to carry inside for their inspection.
All day we huddled together inside the warmth of our home, locked away from the cold just outside. Games were played, television – usually off in our home – was tuned to the weather reports, all the while the icy rain continued to slowly fall outside. It was midnight when we lost power. An eerie silence enveloped our house. Usually there is constant noise from my son’s air purifier, the heat cycling off and on, and the deep breathing of the sleeping family. But in the wee hours of the morning all that could be heard was the occasional pop and crash from branches breaking and falling to the frozen earth and, from the basement an intermittent chirp from the cordless phone.
My son waked up a few times, crying in the deep darkness of his room. A bit of snuggling and he was back to a peaceful sleep in the cold blackness.
The morning light came quickly. I was jolted into consciousness by the children jostling to the windows to see the icy white and the broken trees outside. My wife was warning them to put on their robes – it was only 60 degrees in the house. I stumbled downstairs, longing for a hot cup of coffee - alas, no power, no coffee. After waking a bit, I decided my new and yet unused Esbit camping stove could heat water with minimal effort! I could then use our French press to make some decent coffee on this cold morning. However, by the time I found the stove in the basement closet (with the help of a flashlight), brought it upstairs, the power flickered a few times, and then stayed on. Cést la vie! My wife chucked as she turned on the coffee pot.
We still had not received a call from anyone at church letting us know if services had been canceled for today. I was scheduled to teach adult bible study. Since the power was back on I was able to check websites of television stations. However, our church was not listed on any of them. After scanning the news for closings, we did get a phone call letting us know that indeed services were cancelled for today.
Now late morning, the ice seems to have melted from the driveway. Though the rain and ice has stopped falling from the sky, droplets of melting ice are falling from the trees. There continues to be an eerie stillness outside, as families remain huddled in their homes away from the cold. As I reflect, it seems to me that often our lives are much like this storm. The cold creeps in, slowly covering everything with an icy film. Fascinating and beautiful at first, before long we are immobilized by the cold, frozen within our beliefs, doubts, prejudices, views, narrow understandings, or even our laziness. Often we do not realize our condition until it is too late. The damage has been done. We find we have become prisoners within our own souls, our own homes, our own families. The world looks to be a scary place. And it’s cold. The cold runs so deep that it creeps into our own safe little world we have built. It comes into the walls, overcoming us until we have become the very thing we fear. The very thing that once fascinated us with its mystery has now captured us in its icy, deadly grasp. Soon we find ourselves to be buried beneath it all and we cannot find a way out. So we wait. We wait for someone to save us. We wait for the ice to melt away. We long for what used to be. We wish “we didn’t know now what we didn’t know then,” to quote REM.
In moments of clarity, we realize that we cannot escape our icy world on our own. We need others to help us. We need different perspectives. We need reality. We need to surround ourselves with those people, places and things we most fear. When we do, the ice will begin to melt. Our souls will begin to thaw. And in the warmth of community we can slowly be made new again.
But it takes time. And the damage of the storm takes a while to heal. And often what was broken cannot be mended – scars remain.
If we don’t keep a diverse community surrounding us and our souls bound to Jesus we are in danger of the frost slowly creeping in again, filling us with that dreaded fog, immobilizing us with that think coating of icy indifference that seems to cover the world these days – even the church seems to be frozen these days. The prophetic voices of peace have gotten lost. When voices do cry out it seems the criers are but caricatures of prophets of yore – MLK, JFK, and JC. I wonder why. I know there are those crying out for justice and peace. Is it that they are not heard because those who tell the stories don’t want their message to get out? Or is it that we as a society don’t want to hear what these prophets have to say? Perhaps we are living in an ice age, where all are frozen and the truth cannot get through the think layer of ice covering society and our souls. I’m praying for a warm spring and a quick thaw – at least within my own soul. Perhaps then, the warmth within me can warm those around me with the gospel of truth. Eventually the world will begin to thaw, community will grow and the kingdom of God will come to pass “on earth as it is in heaven.” That is my prayer this chilly morn….

Help a friend win!

Help my friend Chris win some big bucks! Vote for his Holtz/Spurrier limerick on http://www.butcherfresh.com/BRYANBUTCHERLIMERICKS.html!

Another Year...

the big ball in NY City just dropped. My family has been asleep for at least half an hour. My wife fell asleep watching TV. My son went to bed angry and disappointed - the Gators lost to U of Miami. Nick stayed awake (and mostly alert) until the bitter end. He had been looking forward to this game for over a month.
As I watch the celebration on TV I can't help but think of those on the other side of the world tonight who are just trying to survive another day. I can't imagine their misery. During the day our TV has been tuned to CNN. I spend my time trying to comprehend the magnitude of what I see on the screen - sound bites and attempts at joyous stories from complete devastation and hopelessness. Survivors are paraded before the camera; stunned by their experiences they try to put on a "game face" for the audience at home. The families shown express joy at having their lost children home. Those who have returned from the dead zone seem in a fog. I wonder - how survival will affect them?
Here I sit in my comfortable den, laptop aglow, new 36 inch television keeping me company and providing background noise, fish tank bubbling away just over my shoulder, dishwasher churning away in the kitchen, thinking, "I could use something to drink. What should I get - milk, tea, powerade, water, diet coke, lemonade?" And then I compare my overly comfortable life with the horrors that flickered on the screen all morning, lodging in my memory. I hear big corporations and rock stars proudly proclaiming that they have contributed money - when they give the amount I laugh. Yes, for me the sums would be huge. But for corporations that each day carry profits of millions $10,000.00 is a pittance. For Rock stars that flaunt cars worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, the same donation is an insult. I get the feeling most are only out for publicity - me? Cynical?
So I pray. and I feel guilty. and I hurt. and I cry. and I feel helpless. and I see them again - in my mind, on the screen. they are everywhere. and I can do nothing more - but live.