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.

Lessons from the Children....

There have been some special moments this season involving our nativities. Karen reminded me to jot them down so we won’t forget about them. A few weeks ago Karen and the kids were setting up our collection of Nativity scenes all over the house. Both children are rather creative and used the occasion to add their personality to the task. After Nicholas (our self proclaimed herpetologist) put one of his plastic Cobras alongside the porcelain crèche in the den – the most prominent one in the house – Karen commented, “Nicholas! A cobra doesn’t go in a nativity scene!” Nick countered, “I thought Jesus was for everyone.” I guess he has gotten the true meaning of the season after all!

Natalie also had something to teach us about advent. Karen found her switching the baby Jesus from one Nativity to another. The result was rather odd; the slender hand carved olive wood baby was lying at the feet of the holy family and visitors represented by snow men! And the snow man baby Jesus was dwarfing the olive wood scene. Everything looked out of place. Again, how appropriate. We’ve heard the Christmas story so often that it no longer seems odd or out of place for a baby to be born in a barn! Natalie, however, in her own creative way has shown us that the juxtaposition of Divinity with humanity, of royalty with humility, of Emmanuel – God Incarnate – is what the season is really about.

The meaning of the season....

Our “act of kindness,” taking a meal to some of the homeless in Atlanta gathered at Northwoods Baptist Church was an incredible experience of humility, grace and service. Our children had a good time as well. We joined the effort at the invitation of Karol Vellines, the children’s minister at Peachtree Baptist Church. As the adults gathered in the kitchen of Peachtree Baptist Church to carve the smoked Turkey’s and make the casseroles, the children clumped around one of the tables in the fellowship hall to cut-up fresh fruit for a salad. Once at Northwoods Baptist our children joined the other kids already playing among the toys in one of the Sunday school rooms. I took a break from setting up the buffet line to check on the children. Despite the language barriers (all of the other children were Latino) each group of playing children contained both Americans and Latinos.
Once all the food was gone (every scrap was eaten on the spot or wrapped in plastic and foil to later consumption), the kitchen and dining room cleaned and everyone packed into vehicles some interesting conversations ensued about the evening. Nicholas wondered, “Why were some of those kids mean?” After hearing of the “mean play” we responded, “they weren’t mean, they just play differently than you do.” When we informed them that all of the children with whom they were playing were actually homeless too they were aghast. In that moment the reality of their actions and their kindness emerged. We explained again that the true meaning of Christmas is acting with love like Jesus did. We read them stories out of the Gospels where Jesus tells his followers to feed those who are hungry, cloth those who are naked and visit those in prison. Natalie and Nick wanted us to read the stories over and over again. We explained that when we go through their plethora of toys piled high in the corners of their room gathering the one’s they don’t use we give them to children just like those they played with the night before.
We’ll keep reminding them about the events of Tuesday evening. We will also seek out similar opportunities for us to get involved here at home. There are several homeless ministries in Athens that accept volunteers. It should be easy to find someplace to work.
Oscar Romero has expressed wonderful thoughts about the subject of poverty in light of the advent season (Copied from - http://www.bruderhof.com/articles/martyrs-voice.htm?source=DailyDig):
No one can celebrate a genuine Christmas without being truly poor. The self-sufficient, the proud, those who, because they have everything, look down on others, those who have no need even of God – for them there will be no Christmas. Only the poor, the hungry, those who need someone to come on their behalf, will have that someone. That someone is God, Emmanuel, God-with-us. Without poverty of spirit there can be no abundance of God. (December 24, 1978)
When the poor have nowhere to rest their bodies, and their children fleeing from the cold find only hammocks strung up in the fields and coffee groves, we must recall that the Savior’s good news is for all. The happiness of the Lord who created us to fulfill his salvation is everyone’s. (December 24, 1978)
Christ built his classroom of redemption among the poor – not because money is evil, but because money often makes slaves of those who worship the things of earth and forget about God. (December 25, 1978)

I pray that his words and our experiences of this week will stick in my mind and affect our hearts this season and throughout the year.

What is Christmas really all about?

I’ve been pondering again what this Christmas idea is all about. Last week I heard a devotional where a commentary by John Boykin was read. The reader had heard the essay on NPR’s All Things Considered and thought it appropriate to share with a group of collegiate ministers this season. In the essay, Boykin, a Christian, calls for fellow followers of Christ to admit the obvious, that the marketing world that has succeeded taking over Christmas as a spending holiday. He suggests, “I'm not fighting the commercialization of Christmas; that fight was lost ages ago. What I'm after is more radical: Disentangling Jesus entirely from this blight on his good name. I'm out to change the bumper sticker from `Keep Christ in Christmas' to `Free Christ from Christmas.’” He goes on to propose that we make Easter our day and take it back from the bit of commercialization in which it has become shrouded (You can hear the whole essay on NPR’s Website: http://www.npr.org/dmg/dmg.php?prgCode=ATC&showDate=02-Dec-2004&segNum=10&NPRMediaPref=WM&getAd=1).

Boykin continues, ”Christmas, by contrast, has no time for what the adult Jesus said and did. Christmas keeps him safely shut up as a baby in the manger, where he can't make his usual noise about people repenting and living a godly life.
So does his birth matter at all? Well, it matters to his followers today as one way of backing up his claim to be the son of God. But that's not the way Jesus, himself, backed up his claim. He pointed not to his birth, but to his Resurrection. So I'll trade a month of Christmases for one meaningful Easter.”

I don’t know if his solution is the one we should follow, but he does bring up some fascinating points to ponder. I think Jesus’ birthday celebration is important. However, it is difficult for most middle and upper class Americans (and others who want to among the world’s richest) to grasp the significance of a tiny baby born into poverty roughly 2000 years ago. But for many in our world who don’t have our wealth Jesus’ birth must be remembered and honored, for in this simple act, God turned the human idea of upper class upside down!

My wife and I were going over our Christmas list the other day. Again we’ve spent way too much on our children. It happens every year. I wonder what message we are sending. I know that our actions communicate so much more than what we say. So…this year we have teamed up with some good friends to prepare a meal for some homeless folks in Atlanta. I’m up early this morning (5:30 a.m.) smoking two turkeys – almost 40 pounds of poultry. They should be ready in time to head to Atlanta at 3:00 this afternoon to finish pulling the meal together. Our children will be involved in the whole process. They went to the grocery store with us last night to buy the food. They will help prepare the desserts today (Mississippi Mud cake!). This afternoon we will all gathering the church kitchen to finish the meal and then we will all serve it.

An article caught my eye this morning. Dorothy Soelle wrote an essay about her experience of finally understanding Christmas after years of frustration with the commercialization of the holiday (http://www.bruderhof.com/articles/soelle-xmas-gospel.htm?source=DailyDig). While studying the text from a historical and theological viewpoint, Soelle discovered the hopelessness of those who were watching the sheep (and probably most in Bethlehem) whose lives where subject to the economic desires of the ruling class in Rome. Historically what we call Pax Romana was anything but peaceful for most of the citizens of the empire. It was known as a time of peace, but at what cost to the lives of those not in power?

As we are in the Christmas season, I wonder how much of the story we can really understand from our perspective? This economic holiday requires that we buy, buy, buy or our whole economy will crash. Even those who can’t afford basics of living put huge debts on credit cards, further deepens their dependence on others. This season should be about freedom. We have chosen to be slaves to the marketing ploys of the economic emperors in our attempt to make meaning in our lives. We want to see the joyous faces (or is it just fleeting happiness or surprise) of our children on Christmas morning. We want to feel we are giving this season.

I’m hoping that this seasons highlight for my family won’t be Saturday morning when the packages are all opened. I’m hoping what matters most, and what matters most to them will be found today in our simple act of service. I’m also hoping that we can carry this out into 2005, helping folks all year long while reflecting back on this event as “why.” For I concur with Soelle, “Without the perspective of the poor, we see nothing, not even an angel. When we approach the poor, our values and goals change. The child appears in many other children. Mary also seeks sanctuary among us. Because the angels sing, the shepherds rise, leave their fears behind, and set out for Bethlehem, wherever it is situated these days.”

This season, may we truly get it, understanding, perhaps for the first time, that the reason so many in churches are not the rich and famous but those we often look down upon is that folks who appear on the bottom are those who are ready to admit that they need something or someone in whom to hope. I pray I will not forget this simple truth, I need Jesus.

No Room? Where? In me? In the World?

In The Shaping of Things to Come, Frost and Hirsch suggest that as Christians we need to switch to a missional worldview where we go into the world as missionaries not an attractional mindset in which we put up a sign on our churches and expect folks who need God to come to us. They continue that those of us who seek God within the walls of church, within the sanctuary should head into the world, get comfortable living our faith there, and meet God where God is already at work. We often assume that God is absent from “the world” and we must take him there. That could not be further from the truth. The authors suggest we must look for God at work in all things, in all places and at all times!
As I’ve been interacting with the book (I write all in and over books I read – print is truly interactive media for me) I’ve had a few thoughts along these lines. Why is it when encountering the world, brushing up against its edges, we become like it while giggling inwardly (or outwardly). There is a buzz of excitement within us, as if we are doing something we should not be doing. It is like we feel a since of danger when we meet the world. Is it that we are so uncomfortable because we have become separated from that which Jesus came to redeem? We need to firmly grab hold of Jesus hand, hold onto each other for support, encouragement, accountability, and dive into the world. Our faith must remain pure. Our holiness must be apparent. We must learn to relate without compromising into in, so that God can use us as conduits for the message he is already in the process of delivering. God is there. Why do we not find him? We see only sin when we look at the world. Perhaps we are more attuned to sin than to God. Is our attempt to avoid sin so strong that sin is all we think about? Talk about missing the point of the Gospel and of Paul’s writings! We are now free from the bondages of sin – even our minds should be freed to think about Jesus and redemption, yet we continue to focus on that very thing from which God has freed us! Perhaps we need to focus less on sin and more on God! We should be freed to get out into the world with the Gospel – doing whatever we want to do, doing whatever we need to do to reach the world for Christ!
I remember at seminary a Canadian student was sharing in our “world missions” class how he had begun an informal ministry at the local tavern. Each day he’d go down to the bar, sit on a stool and order a beer. Each day before he left for home, he had the opportunity to share his faith and often lead someone to Jesus. This student was chastised for his choice of ministry venues by almost everyone in the class! How tragic. We haven’t become like Jesus, we have become like the Pharisees!
This morning, “My Daily Dig” appeared in my inbox (http://www.bruderhof.com/articles/TimeOfNoRoom.htm?source=DailyDig). Following the link I was taken to an essay by Thomas Merton about the gospel line regarding “no room in the inn.” It seems to tell a similar tale of longing to go to those who are “in the world:”
Into this world, this demented inn, in which there is absolutely no room for him at all, Christ has come uninvited. But because he cannot be at home in it - because he is out of place in it, and yet must be in it - his place is with those others who do not belong, who are rejected because they are regarded as weak; and with those who are discredited, who are denied the status of persons, and are tortured, exterminated. With those for whom there is no room, Christ is present in this world. He is mysteriously present in those for whom there seems to be nothing but the world at its worst. For them, there is no escape even in imagination. They cannot identify with the power structure of a crowded humanity which seeks to project itself outward, anywhere, in a centrifugal flight into the void, to get out there where there is no God, no man, no name, no identity, no weight, no self, nothing but the bright, self-directed, perfectly obedient and infinitely expensive machine.
For those who are stubborn enough, devoted enough to power, there remains this last apocalyptic myth of machinery propagating its own kind in the eschatological wilderness of space - while on earth the bombs make room!
But the others: they remain imprisoned in other hopes, and in more pedestrian despairs, despairs and hopes which are held down to earth, down to street level, and to the pavement only: desire to be at least half-human, to taste a little human joy, to do a fairly decent job of productive work, to come home to the family...desires for which there is no room. It is in these that He hides himself, for whom there is no room.
I hope this season I’ll take some time to reflect on how to get back into the world Jesus dove into as a tiny, helpless babe. I pray God will give me Godly eyes to enable to see Jesus at work all around me. I hope I’ll throw off the shackles of Phariseism with which I’ve voluntarily bound myself and find the freedom to be a missionary to the world in which I live. I pray my faith is up to the task, and has not just become a shadow of the mountain moving faith Jesus talked about to his band so long ago. I hope I can bring the kingdom I have hidden within into the light of the world so others may see it and meet Jesus! I hope….

The (Absolute) Best Christmas Pageant Ever!

Tonight we witnessed The Best Christmas pageant Ever.... Or at least the latest attempt to produce that hysterical play based on the book of the same title (written by Barbara Robinson, Harper and Row, 1972). What made the play so special? Why, my two children, of course! They were the most perfect angels in the angel choir - Natalie with garland halo 'a bouncing upon her head (her constant nodding to keep it moving helped a bit), and Nick with his wings protruding just about his shoulders, his halo placed just so, held tightly in place by the headband at his temples, cushioned by the not-so-delicately wrapped pieces of facial tissue (giving the appearance of white flowers tucked behind his ears!). Joy, joy! The story always gets me - the Herdmans, the town bullies and misfits, show up at church just in time to join the annual production of the Christmas play. To everyone's surprise instead of ruining the production, their wide-eyed wonder and improvisations give the play a raw reality and bring the real meaning of Christmas home to the community. My favorite scenes include a tired, bedraggled, dirty and unkept Mary crying rocking and nuzzling baby Jesus as the Angel Choir softly sings carols behind her and the Angel of the Lord shouting to the shepherds, "Hey, Unto You a Child is Born!" I think we often get so caught up the stuff of this season that we miss out on the baby snuggling next to his tender, but tired and probably a bit confused mom. I think I often need someone to get my attention by shouting in my face, "Hey, Unto You a Child is Born." Maybe then I'll go find a newborn babe to stare at for a while, just to soak in the innocence there; just to find the recent incarnation of spirit freshly bestowed in human life.