Changing the way we change

Sometime this weekend, Melinda and are planning on watching Right America Feeling Wronged, an HBO documentary by Alexandra Pelosi (and, yes, it's Nancy Pelosi's daughter). I really liked her other film Friends of God. She basically traveled the country and talked with Christians, trying to understand them. Some were doing normal things like going to church; others were wearing tights and wrestling in the name of Jesus. You get the idea.

In Right America Feeling Wronged, Pelosi followed the McCain campaign and interviewed McCain supporters. Like I said, Melinda and I haven't actually gotten to watch it yet, but we did preview a couple of scenes, in which Pelosi interviewed conservatives after Obama won and McCain lost. If you only heard the audio and they bleeped out the candidates names, someone who didn't know what the movie was about would probably deduce it was a movie about the aftermath of 9/11. There was mourning and weeping. People said things like, "This country will never be the same," and "The terrorists have won." Sadly, the people who were interviewed talked as if there is little difference between Barack Obama and Osama Bin Laden.

But why do I bring this up? It seems to me that what's happening in the political sphere is also happening in the Church. Change is coming, and people are scared. They want to hold on to what's familiar and they want to rely on the answers they've relied on for so many years. Now, before I write another word, let me tell you what this change is NOT. First of all, this change does not mean that the Bible is or should be disregarded. Second, this change is not a complete divorce from our history or our heritage. Finally, this change is not change for the sake of change; it's not a superficial change in style or lingo.

This change is all about owning up to what's broken. Evangelicalism as practiced in the 1980's and '90's did not have all the answers. I'm proud to have grown up an evangelical, but there were some important things we missed out on. Many social justice issues and the engaging of culture are at the top of the list, but I would also include creating beauty and poetry in every sphere of life. I think of the priorities that we forgot about - how we relied on money and the military for security, but told others to trust in Jesus alone. I think about how we oversimplified the gospel and sometimes rendered it as nothing more than a cliché. But most of all, I think about how we often focused on being right more than on being loving.

I see God working. I see the Church slowly changing. I see a new generation of leaders emerging and breathing fresh life into God's people. But this change, like so many, comes with pain. Not everyone is happy about it.

Melinda and I just left a bad church situation. We didn't want to, but felt like we had exhausted every option. There were lots of different things that could be cited as reasons for our decision to leave, but they all boil down to one thing: the church (or, at least, most of the people in it) did not want to change.

I know that sounds like we're spoiled children who want things our way, but it's not like that at all. We came to this church knowing that it had problems and that it needed some new life. We were ready and willing to pull up our sleeves and get to work. We were excited to get plugged in and really get to know people. And we desperately wanted to be part of the solution. But unfortunately, it was like trying to paddle a canoe on dry cement. The stream just wasn't moving. And, to be fair, it wasn't moving in either direction. All around us was apathy. People weren't fighting us (or anyone) really.

So, now we're starting over again in a new church community. I'm still optimistic that God is up to something, and I'm hoping that we'll get to be a part of it, but it makes me sad that people hold on to things so tightly - especially when what they're hold on to is mere tradition, and not the Spirit of God.

This video is for Derek Webb's "A New Law." The lyrics perfectly capture the vibe I've been getting this past year in church.

Ain't No Reason

I found this song this morning and I really like it. I thought I would share.

Here are the lyrics in case you missed them:

It's how they've always been and they intend to stay
I can't explain why we live this way
We do it everyday

Preachers on the podium speaking of saints
Prophets on the sidewalks begging for change
Old ladies laughing from the fire escape, cursing my name

I got a basket full of lemons and they all taste the same
A window and a pigeon with a broken wing
You can spend your whole life working for something
Just to have it taken away

People walk around pushing back their debts
Wearing pay checks like necklaces and bracelets
Talking 'bout nothing, not thinking about death
Every little heart beat, every little breath

People walk a tight rope on a razor's edge
Carrying their hurt and hatred and weapons
It could be a bomb or a bullet or a pen
Or a thought or a word or a sentence

There ain't no reasons things are this way
It's how they've always been and they intend to stay
I don't know why I say the things I say,
But I say them anyway

But love will come set me free
Love will come set me free
I do believe
Love will come set me free
I know it will
Love will come set me free
Yes

Prison walls still standing tall
Some things never change at all
Keep on building prisons,
Gonna fill them all
Keep on building bombs
Gonna drop them all

The wind blows wild and I may move
But politicians lie and I am not fooled
You don't need no reason or a 3-piece suit
To argue the truth

The air on my skin and the world under my toes
Slavery is stitched to the fabric of my clothes
Chaos and commotion wherever I go
Love, I try to follow

But love will come set me free
Love will come set me free
I do believe
Love will come set me free
I know it will
Love will come set me free
Yes

There ain't no reasons things are this way
It's how they've always been and they intend to stay
I can't explain why we live this way
We do it everyday

Jesus in conversation

Anyone who's known me for any length of time knows that I love a good cigar. I also enjoy smoking a pipe. Last fall, I had to give up my occasional smoke-break, though. I signed a contract with Christian Heritage and promised I wouldn't smoke. I'm sure the rule was designed with cigarette smokers in mind. After all, the school is a non-smoking building. And CHS is a non-denominational institution, so at some level, they need to appeal to the lowest common denominator on things like this. I'm sure there are some fundamentalists out there who would pull their kids out of school if they found out a part-time teacher like me enjoyed a good puff now and then.

When it came time to sign the contract, I could've made a stink about Christian liberty, and about how smoking an occasional cigar is hardly sinful. I could've even pulled out the big guns - the fact that C.S. Lewis was a smoker! But I didn't do any of those things, since I was so thankful for the teaching opportunity.

Still, I do miss my cigars and pipes. When I was in college, smoking cigars was about more than just tobacco. Going for a smoke was about a change of scenery, and about sneaking away with some of the guys for honest conversation. Sometimes it was silly talk. Sometimes it was serious. But it was always honest. I remember intense conversations about girls, life, God, and the nature of the universe. I can recall sitting at Tuck's Point for hours without ever once considering that there was somewhere else we could be.

After college, smoking a cigar continued to be about honest conversation, except it was now usually sans the guys. Instead, the activity became a time to talk with God. The fraternity of my college days morphed into something even more intimate - a time to walk outside and be honest with God. It also became a time for listening and hearing from Him. I would often come back from a smoke recharged and energized for whatever struggles I was facing. And, even if I didn't come back with answers, it just felt good to talk to God privately for the length of time it took for the ash to reach the ring on my Punch.

If tobacco had been around in Israel 2,000 years ago, I think Jesus would've been a cigar or pipe smoker. After all, knowing that He was going to die at 33, He really didn't need to worry about His health. Okay. . . Maybe not. But he certainly understood honest conversation. Reading through the Gospels, it's hard to go more than a few pages without finding Jesus engaged in a one-on-one conversation with someone. And it wasn't light chit-chat either - He talked about the most important and heavy topic of all - the gospel.

A few months back, I wrote an article for the Burnside Writers Collective called, "The Magic Words Jesus Didn't Use." It was all about how Jesus never gave a gospel-presentation the same way twice. He talked to one woman about living water. Then, to a tax collector, He invited Himself over for lunch. He talked about the need to be born again in one context, and in another, the need to sell all your possessions and give to the poor.

As I study Jesus, I can't help but wonder why his conversations about the gospel often sound at odds with many of our modern methods of evangelism. We talk about the Sinner's Prayer, and about accepting Him into one's heart. We talk about grace and faith, but rarely about the need to give anything up. We say that Jesus is the only way, but to where? If salvation is just about escaping hell, why did Jesus make it so personal? There just seems to be a disconnect between the gospel Jesus talked about and the gospel many people talk about today.

It was with this in mind that, several months ago, I began writing. At first, it just started out as some thoughts on paper gleaned from the conversations of Jesus in Scripture. As I worked on it, though, it became clear that Jesus used different words and different approaches because the gospel is intricately beautiful, and because it has the power to reach people at their greatest point of need. The gospel is not a four-point tract, nor is it a static religious statement. It's good news that can only be received in conversation with Jesus.

After months of writing and editing and having folks I trust read chapter selections, the book is just about done. I call it The Jesus Sessions: Rediscovering the Complex Beauty of the Gospel (or How the Gospel Is more like Geometry than Algebra). Each chapter focuses on a personal conversation that Jesus had. The Gospel stories are retold to bring out a fuller picture of the

original context. I also weave personal stories and anecdotes throughout. Obviously, I'd love to be able to get it published. (If anyone out there can help me do that, I'd appreciate any assistance I can get.) But my hope is that the simple stories contained in the book will help people to think about the nature of salvation and the nature of Jesus' mission on earth. And more importantly, I hope people who read it begin looking for opportunities to have their own conversations with Jesus.

Reality

I haven't blogged at all in the past several weeks. I've been working on a big project and it's consumed most of my free time. . . oh, and also, LOST returned to TV. If you already watch LOST, I don't need to tell you how good it is, and if you don't, then please don't try to jump in. Do yourself a favor and get the DVDs. Start from the beginning and catch up before the sixth and final season starts next year.

LOST is all about storytelling, and the story becomes much more powerful as you revisit it on different levels. This past week there were things that made Melinda and me think back to the first season. Questions were answered that we had almost forgotten about. New questions were raised that changed what we thought we already knew. The thing about LOST is this: You never really know what's going on. You might think you do from time to time, but then something happens that makes you reevaluate what you thought was settled.

Though the gospel is devoid of smoke monsters, Others, and Dharma stations, I think it should challenge our understanding of reality in much the same way. God's kingdom is no ordinary kingdom, and what is seen visibly does not do justice to the actual nature of the divine order. Our ways are not God's ways. . . but aren't they supposed to be?

Take this economic meltdown for instance. Every news report and sound bite offers dismal predictions about the future. The rising unemployment and declining retail sales numbers all point to an uncertain and fearful year ahead. But maybe this recession/quasi-depression is actually a blessing in disguise.

Brian McLaren wrote a great piece for the Sojourners blog, God's Politics. In the article, he questioned what "recovery" should really mean. He noted that a drug addict in recovery doesn't seek a return to the same high he once knew. Instead, he looks for an alternative, sustainable lifestyle. Our approach to "recovery" should be similar. McLaren writes, "[a recovering drug addict] realizes that his addiction to drugs was a symptom of other deeper issues and diseases in his life … unresolved pain or anger, the need to anesthetize painful emotions, lack of creativity in finding ways to feel happy and alive, unaddressed relational and spiritual deficits, lack of self-awareness, and so on." And he continues, "Similarly, I’d like to suggest whenever we hear the word 'recovery,' we as a nation see it not as a call to get back our old addictive high, but rather as a call to face our corporate and personal addictions. . ."

I think McLaren is onto something. What good would it do just to get things back to the status quo? Our overconsumption and selfishness is what got us into this mess in the first place. We have to try something different. And that's where the message of Scripture comes in. We now have the opportunity to start living like the Church. We had this opportunity all along, but things were convenient and selfless love was hard. Now, it seems, we've been given the opportunity to get things right.

Back to LOST. The show is called LOST for a reason. Yes, the main characters are lost on an island, but each character is also "lost" in some other way. The survivors were a myriad of things back in their old lives. There's a murderer, a drug addict, a parapelegic with daddy issues, a con-artist, a cursed millionaire... and on and on. But on the island, all that has been stripped away. Even the parapelegic is healed. Being stranded on a desert island would normally be considered a tragedy, but it was the best thing that could ever have happened to these folks. Except for one thing. . . They have no idea.

Then, a funny thing happened at the end of season four: Six of the survivors of Oceanic Airlines flight 815 were rescued and were able to return to life as usual. Though it's what they've wanted since episode 1, going back to civilization didn't fix their problems. Instead, the Oceanic 6 (as they're called) are now beginning to realize that they never should have left. Not only are the folks they left behind in great danger because they went home, but their own lives are a mess as well. It turns out that the hardship of living on the island wasn't really a hardship at all; it was freedom.

For us, doing with less might not be a hardship either. It might actually be the freedom we've been waiting for. My intention is not to make light of the situation in which many people are now finding themselves - unemployed and struggling to make ends meet. But, what I am suggesting is that we ought to at least consider the possibility that the dramatic slowdown in our economy is a blessing. And let's see how God can use it to change us personally and as a community.

Also, watch LOST. It rocks.

Source:

Brian McLaren, "Two Kinds of Economic Recovery," God's Politics: A blog by Jim Wallis & Friends, February 10, 2009. Available here: http://blog.sojo.net/2009/02/10/two-kinds-of-recovery/.