Life in the Temple

On the Entertainment Value of a First Bird Hunt

2012-01-17T12:14:00.000-08:00

Recently I was privileged to have my first experience hunting waterfowl. Rather unfairly, I had previously not thought of it as “hunting” simply because of the size of the game (does size really matter?), being smaller than the deer or elk I had stalked years ago. For this reason, I’d often been puzzled by the plethora of bird hunting gear available in rows and rows of merchandise at the local sporting goods store. I noticed it, but pretty much walked past it, thinking it a strange and bewildering set of tools for some other mysterious pastime other than “hunting.” I now no longer think this, having seen all of this equipment in action.

The hunting area was surprisingly close to the city, approximately an hour’s drive away from the metropolitan area. Several men lease the rights to hunt birds there from the land owner, and I was the guest of one of those lease participants (a generous man that I know from church). When we arrived at the hunting “lodge” (some sturdy structures with a deck that really seem to take the "roughing it" edge out of hunting), I was struck by how quiet and peaceful it was there. The meadows stretched off in each direction, punctuated by ponds that geese and ducks had collected on. From this distance I could see several permanent “blinds” that had been constructed to hide hunters from birds’ on “final approach to runway 35R.”

Without hesitation, each hunter fanned out in different directions to place themselves in an advantageous shooting position. As I had never done this before, I assumed one should walk toward the animals, weapon at the ready. It wasn’t long before a pair of geese flew toward me from the nearby pond, emitting their familiar honks. Elated over the opportunity to “bag” my first birds ever, I drew up and fired twice with precise and confident targeting...to no avail. For some reason, I must have mistakenly thought I was shooting my rifle for a moment. BB’s just don’t fly that high into the air. After both misses, I lowered my shotgun back down to my side, knowing there was no way to hide the embarrassment of having created the noise, but will have nothing to carry back to the lodge to show for it. When the exact same sequence played itself out not ten minutes later, I finally was able to decipher what the goose’s honks actually meant; the rough translation being - “I’m out of range, ‘ya stupid fool!” (Why they sounded French, I have no idea).

For the evening, I was soothed by the whistling breeze and silent fields. This is, until the hosted turned on the television to watch the football game. Blasphemy! A TV at camp? Where am I, Mars? The food was plentiful and so was the booze. All eventually migrated to our respective sleeping bags, dismayed at how soon we’d have to wake up for the morning hunt. Fortunately, I was able to get sound asleep before the real snorers hit the sack (in truth, I have no idea whether any snored; I was sleeping too hard).

Now I must tell you... at 0500 the alarm sound was particularly rude. Arising without fanfare, we sauntered out into the black of the morning darkness carrying bags of goose decoys along with our guns. My host was adorned with a collection of goose calls around his neck, resembling the bone necklace of some Indonesian shaman. I noted secretly how we might soon reverse evolution when all the gear slung around our necks no longer allows us to walk upright. We set out the decoys so as to resemble a brood of geese that had found a random place to “safely” congregate. How should geese look in their staff meeting, anyway? Is there a moderator? Who is running the PowerPoint slides? That seemed to over-think it. So I arranged my geese decoys to appear deep in concentration during a competitive, high stakes, Texas Hold’em poker tournament.

Finding tall grass to sleep...um...I mean... “watch vigilantly” for incoming game in, I sat comfortably as dawn approached. The fog was thick enough, as the sun rose, that the goose honking I heard all around seemed to come from no direction in particular. Eventually the sky cleared slightly and we could see what was flying. Most abundant, and flying rather low, were the species of geese who’s last season day to shoot them had been the day before. Clearly they are better at circulating important memos than my company is. It was plain that these Speckle-bellied geese had checked the calendar and now intended to mock us in unison. In addition, the geese that were in season that day had read the specifications of my firearm and knew it’s effective range (apparently better than I did, according to the previous days results), flying just close enough to be snide in their taunts. Nothing tarnishes a morning like having a bird flip you the middle feather.

The goal was, using his goose calls, for my host to call these geese over to where our decoys were holding their union leadership elections. He was setup in tall grass about 100 yards away from me (or “far enough away so that if we accidentally shoot at each other, it won’t hurt.”), and I could hear him use those calls with their various sounds. They nearly diverted the course of two geese at one point, but then the birds turned and flew away when they spotted the “Remington” logo on my camouflage ball cap (darn corporate brand logos!). When a diverse flock of geese flew over the field, I heard him cycle through all the calls whistles around his neck. “What respiratory discipline it must take to use all those in quick succession,” I thought, “without wheezing.” When none of the geese banked toward our artificial goose block party, I felt sorry for him. “Sheesh!” I silently mused, “all that and no one answered him? Surely SOMEone will respond to all that effort.”... mmmMMMMMOOOOOooo, answered the cows from the other side of the canal. It was difficult to watch for birds after that with the tears fogging up my vision.

With nothing to show for our morning efforts, we walked back to the lodge to confess our “wild goose chase” (is that where that phrase comes from?). Lunchtime was spent firmly establishing and ascribing fault to all the various other factors unrelated to our hunting prowess. When full bellies became convinced it was time to head home, we began to pack up the gear. I asked if there was still time for me to walk down to the pond and examine the legendary, plush blinds that had been built near the water. Being assured there was time enough for this brief hike, I walked down along the fence line, carrying my shotgun with me (of course). The ponds were devoid of any birds and there was no expectation of seeing any fly over. I merely wanted to see for myself these hiding places that rivaled most ten year olds boys tree forts (“Blind 2 has an espresso machine, blind 3 has the hot tub, but blind 4 has the whiskey...” I was told).

Exactly as you wouldn’t expect, my short trek spooked up two geese hiding in the tall grass and I shot them both as they attempted to fly away. Walking back to the lodge, my hunting companions celebrated with me in the sight of carrying my prizes. It was my first time to bird hunt and, while I didn’t expect to do very well, I didn’t want to come up blank either. A bird processing facility, on the way home, reduced the creatures down to their respective meats that will make an honored contribution to our meals at home. I’ve spoken before about the important connection made between quarry and feast, and the blessings of responsibly participating the ecological life-cycle of legal game. For game birds, this was my first time. It bore fruit, and I’m looking forward to the next opportunity.

Being a guest to a generous host, I have no expectation of a return trip to this particular property. However, the whole experience was reminiscent enough of the outings with my father growing up wherein prayer and ubiquitous lessons concerning God and his creations set the tone for the entire hunt, that I feel a great motivation to seek opportunities to take my boys out for such an event. Bird hunting, like other hunting forms, has the potential to hold all those wonderful principles I learned from my father, and convey them to my boys in the process as well.

On Being Called "Indiana Jones"

2011-12-15T09:38:00.000-08:00

For serious archaeologists, the relationship to the Indiana Jones mythology is an uncomfortable one. On the one hand, there's a comical quality to "Dr. Jones" that cannot be taken seriously. The fantastical adventures he goes on
and mystical treasures he finds are as divorced from reality as any other action film might be. Thus, the scholar finds it necessary to constantly remind students, readers and visitors to the museum exhibit that "real" archaeology is "nothing like the movies." Therefore, for someone to suggest that an archaeologist is "being like Indiana Jones" is somewhat insulting, as though they are not appearing as "scholarly" as they want to be. The label reveals that the scholar is not to be taken seriously. It can be discouraging.

On the other hand, the Indiana Jones movies and mythology has done much to raise popular awareness regarding the joys and excitement of real discovery. Not unlike how police television dramas inspire young people to grow up to have actual law enforcement careers, they know that reality and film differ, but one inspired the other anyway. Legitimate or not, the film character has inspired many a young researcher to joyfully enter the field or for donors to fund a discovery project. For this reason, Harrison Ford was elected to the board of directors for the Archaeological Institute of America because his legendary character had "played a significant role in stimulating the public's interest in archaeological exploration." Thus archaeologists can unapologetically own "Indiana Jones" as a sort of tongue-in-cheek mascot.

However, this "mascot" has to be utilized within reason. While the fictional character may have inspired young scholars to pursue the thrill of "adventure," they also know that "adventure" is a relative term. The thrill of discovery was no less powerful to them just because they reached their conclusions through hours spent in the lab rather than through car chases with Nazis. Thus, the "Jones" label needs to remain unspoken, lest it rob the scholar's research of some of it's deserved respect. The author that calls themselves "a real life Indiana Jones," is shedding his credibility in academia for the sake of selling more sensationalized books or enjoying the rock star status of a speaking circuit. A scholar that is desiring respect in his field, though secretly enjoys watching Harrison Ford pursue the Holy Grail, likely will cringe if friends and family says he or she seems like "Indiana Jones" (colleagues would know better than to invoke the Jones reference).

Knowing this uneasy interplay of inspiration and embarrassment, I've dangerously waded into that soup by unabashedly keeping the trappings that inspire me (i.e. a brown, felt fedora), all the while pursuing scholarly work that avoids the sensationalism spouted by those claiming to be "a real life Indiana Jones." Thus it can be said I've brought the embarrassing label on myself, and have no grounds for avoiding it. Nevertheless, my beloved spouse sees me donning my "thinking cap" and realizes it simply inspires me to spend that many more hours in the library, the lab and in the field. So the balance is to enjoy my little reminders to myself of how exciting I find "real" archaeology, hoping that people DON'T get around to saying, "Wow! You look just like..." It's an unreasonable expectation, I know. Who can blame those that reference the mythic action hero? They don't know how much I'd like to leave that motivating image from my youth left unspoken in the conversation. Somethings are just for me to know about, reminding myself of the secret thrill of pursuing what I love...but the hat is a little difficult to conceal under the rest of the clothes. If, however, I can make it to the library or the lab without anyone drawing the connection between the hat and a popular film character, the research seems just a little more sweet when I get there.

If I were THAT committed to avoiding being called "Indiana Jones," I'd leave the hat at home. I suppose a less secure man would be highly offended by the seeming loss of respect inherent in having the connection made between them as a scholar and the action star. I, however, simply smile and admit that some myths can inspire people toward real scholarship. I suppose it also helps to prevent me from taking myself too seriously as well. Nevertheless, it's a delicate balance of being inspired by a youthful myth while growing up to do the "real" work.

Inspirations have their place. What inspires you?

Jesus in the Stands

2011-12-13T10:23:00.000-08:00

Who knew that God picks his favorite NFL football team any given Sunday? I certainly didn't. He must though, to hear sportscasters speak about Tim Tebow of the Denver Broncos. Apparently, he's a Christian and makes no effort at hiding it. Outstanding! More power to him. It don't mind a Christian sports player, whose job it is to entertain and inspire us with his competitive efforts, "coming out" and speaking of his faith in the open forum. On the contrary, he may even use the spotlight, if he's a good player, for speaking about how his faith inspires him to honor God and those around him with his integrity and work ethic.

What has come to seem more and more odd to me is the phenomenon of players pointing upward and thanking God for a successful play that scored points for their team. I have no doubt that they were praying for victory for their team prior to the game (and perhaps even during the game on one knee; i.e. random "Tebow-ing"). However, when the player points skyward and thanks God for the touchdown or kick that split the uprights, what in hell are they assuming? That God granted their prayer and guided the ball into the receiver's hands in that acrobatic artistry that would make Lynn Swann weep sentiment tears? Do they honestly suppose that the LORD blew his wind to nudge the pigskin away from the defenders swatting palm? What about the defensive end's prayer that he successfully stop the offense's advance?

If Tim Tebow's pastor is to be believed, God chooses NFL favorites not unlike how he chose ancient Israel from among all the other nations. But Wayne Hanson is not the only offender. The assumption of "God's favor" on a football team is communicated every time a player points upward as his endzone celebration and the fans in the living room dutifully offer the "amen" in the form of turning to the guest next to them sharing the popcorn bowl and musing, "That's good to see...a believer that gives God glory." Of course, the question "Glory for what?!" never gets asked. It's just assumed that God has something (ANYTHING!) to do with results in a football game, that he's chosen (for reasons that seem good to him) to answer the prayers of one team for victory instead of the other team's (perhaps no one on the other team prays...heathens).

You know what? That makes total sense. I think I saw Jesus sitting up in the stands during a game recently. He was the guy in section 117, row N, seat 12 with the rainbow hair and a cowbell. Clearly Jesus is an NFL fan. Heck, he MUST be. Why else would so many assume he's picked a side? I mean...THINK about it. Considering how many pastors make sure that church is out in time to watch the game, they must have gotten the memo: "Dismiss by 11:50 sharp. Jesus has sweet tickets on the 50 yard line and will NOT be in your service after the cutoff time." I like to think of Jesus painting his face and shaking his signed jersey in front of the FOX camera as it pans by.

"Absurd," you say? No more than assuming that the Holy Spirit miraculously helped the receiver drag that second toe in the back corner of the end zone while maintaining control of the ball all the way to the ground. If the fruit of the Spirit includes self-control, perhaps the praise could be offered that he inspired a little less excessive celebration, less unnecessary roughness, fewer prima donnas, more honest players admitting, "Yep. My knee was down on contact. I admit it." These things might be actually important to God, certainly more so than something as comparatively trivial as a touchdown.

The next time a player is tempted to thank God above for winning the game, perhaps they might stop and think of what their photo op says to the believer on the opposing team who was also praying for victory on the Lord's Day (not sure how the schedule of an NFL player allows for ANY church attendance for half the year anyway). I doubt very much God was interested in the outcome of the game, even less whether the kick was good. That dude I saw in the stand that I though was Jesus, was probably just a enthusiastic, mortal fan after all.

Besides, if indeed it's true that Jesus was a "friend to sinners," he's a hockey fan anyway.

Screw the Shopping...Give me Christ

2011-12-05T14:38:00.000-08:00

I have a love/hate relationship with Christmas each year. I absolutely love the trappings of celebrating Christ's birth that manifest in sights, sounds and smells all associated with this grand holiday. The Christmas music airing 24/7 over the local radio station adds considerably to the feeling of peace, contentment and anticipation. The decorations come out and get hung around the house, contributing to a sense of serenity in the home, anticipating a peaceful time reflecting on the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, when God chose to "pitch his tent" among us. When the Texas weather finally starts to cool down, the sweaters can come out of storage and help us cozy up on the sofa with hot cocoa and peppermint candies. It's a joy to get wrapped up (pun intended) in the Christmas "spirit," telling people, "Merry Christmas," as you come upon them is my goings about. I love side of Christmas that is a celebration.

I hate the side of Christmas that is consumerism. Basically, it's that time of year when the shame of having so little extra money beyond that amount necessary to cover daily necessities becomes particularly acute. Black Friday is of no consequence. Holiday deals must be ignored. Any trip to the mall is mainly to simply "people watch." Seemingly all Christmas films highlight the presents purchased for the occasion ("You'll shoot your eye out!"). The great hope is that relatives send gift checks that the parents can use shop for the kids, because nothing in the household budget allows for that activity. The question from friends, "What did you get you kids for Christmas?" are awkward, and sometimes skillfully, avoided. The spend-fest serves as an annual thermometer revealing the low "temperatures" in the bank account, driving family members to think more "deeply" about the "true meaning of Christmas" (as though this could not also be accomplished while simultaneously striking the mother load).

I'd love to split this holiday into two separate events: one that celebrates the birth of Christ and another that brings retailers "into the black" each year. The evolution of how these two very divergent concepts came to be intertwined must be interesting to study. Nevertheless, I wish they could be separated. The shopping frenzy be damned, I'm still going to try to "get into the Christmas spirit."

Semper Reformanda

2011-10-31T08:18:00.000-07:00

Frequent misunderstandings arise concerning the purpose, meaning and application of the Protestant Reformation. It's such a multifaceted epoch in history that widely varied opinions and interpretations exist regarding whether it was good or bad. The Reformation of the 16th Century is at once both a tragic tale, and a glorious one. It's a tragic one because an unintended consequence of it was the subsequent splintering of the Church of the West. However, it's a marvelous story because the need for the western Church to correct some of its errors was THAT dire. Basically, it's both a fond and painful memory for all of us - not unlike how an adult recalls a particular meaningful spanking they received as a child. For this reason, some may cringe at the prospect of celebrating the Protestant Reformation on October 31st (the traditional date in 1517 when Martin Luther nailed his "95 Theses" to the front door of his church in Wittenburg), and understandably so. On the other hand, I believe it's deserving of a commemorative party - not unlike how adults recall a younger spanking with stories of childhood discipline that resemble, "Yeah. My father was a loving, but strict man. I remember one time I acted up...and instead of just leaving me to my self-destructive folly, he applied the 'board of education' to the 'seat of learning.' I'm so glad he loved me enough to straighten me up then...but I still couldn't sit down comfortably for days."

To the Philippians, the Apostle Paul wrote, "For I am sure of this very thing, that the one who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus" (Phil 1:6; emphasis added). This confident statement by the Apostle can be appropriately interpreted as Divine assurance that God will remain an "engaged Father," disciplining and correcting the Church (semper reformanda - "always reforming") until the return of Jesus Christ. Far from standing aloof, allowing the Bride of Christ to wander aimlessly in error, he set events in motion and supervises them to fix things that are broken. There can be no doubt that the disunity that ensued has left us rubbing our collective backsides, saying "Oooh! That smarts." Nevertheless, the bruised posterior offers both bragging rights for the Herculean endurance and an endearing narrative concerning an attentive Father.

Therefore, while I understand that reluctance to celebrate the Reformation can be born of a legitimate distaste for the division in the Church that has sense ensued, I instead take the position of recalling the episode as a story of God's grace. Imagine the opposite scenario of a disengaged father that leaves his offspring to their own devices, meandering about without corrective intervention. Surely the the healing process continues, and we will one day see a Church re-unified in it's doctrine and mission. In the meantime, celebrating Reformation Day is to celebrate the God that corrects us when we need it. He remains interactive and engaged, bringing us back on track when we wander off it (i.e. indulgences, Transubstantiation, etc.).

Some have exploited this discipline though, using the post-Reformation division to advance their own sect, seemingly reveling in the tragic pain of a splintered church. They exult in the division and assume that efforts to heal from these wounds and seek ecumenical unity are misguided. This is a wrong application of the Reformation "spirit," by seemingly wanting to keep the "spanking" going on longer than is necessary. On the contrary, as any loving Father holds and consoles the very same child they just painfully disciplined, so also would the Father like to see us united as "one, holy, catholic and Apostolic Church" again. Until that oneness is again realized (and even when it is), celebrating the God who fixes us is appropriate for any time.

In addition, Reformation Day is a celebration of the Church about the Church. It was the Church's very process of theological reflection and geographic expansion that God used to correct the errors of the medieval era. Scholars such as Martin Luther wrote on the abuses of the Roman church, calling for their correction, desiring reform more than discord. Thomas Cranmer and others advanced Christian worship free of odd innovations to classic Christian teaching that arose from Rome as well. All of these events reinforce that when God wanted his Church back in the right path, he used the Church to do it. So Reformation Day commemorates the triumph of the Church in addition to celebrating the triumph of God and his Word.

All of this suggests the necessity for a grand party, feast, celebration for God's people. It's a legitimate reason to gather the Lord's people together and incite them to revel in God's goodness demonstrated in "fixing" us when needed. When we celebrate our "engaged Father" that has reformed us before, we too can be "sure of this very thing, that the one who began a good work in you [us] will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus." As a result, his work of semper reformanda ("always reforming") in us is his loving attention to the Church to keep us faithful to him and his mission to the world.

I Need to Go Hunting Again

2011-10-27T10:05:00.000-07:00

Growing up, my father was much more of a hunting enthusiast than I was. Each year, just prior to deer season, he'd get "the fever," and his mind would begin racing on all the necessary preparations for hunting. On the other hand, I paid it very little attention until the day we left. For the most post, I found it a lot of unnecessary work to simply enjoy the outdoors and have more meat in our freezer. The whole experience seemed almost spoiled by having to lug around a heavy rifle, or having to paint my face camouflage colors for bowhunting season. My heart just wasn't into it. My father, however, was the consummate hunter, and ascribed profound importance to all aspects of it. As I look back to those years, I've come to appreciate what a "conductor of life lessons" it was that I simply didn't value at the time; not unlike how different metals are often shown to be a better conductor of sound or heat than others are.

When the term "hunting" is invoked, it often brings one thing to mind: killing. However, the actually slaying of an animal in the wild is a small minority of the entire process, and frequently is absent from the outing altogether (I went on SO many hunts and came back with nothing). But regarding the killing of big game, I don't begrudge people their aversion to performing this act. It's not for everyone. I do, however, think that those who are "anti-hunting" should also be vegetarians for consistency's sake; for every human carnivore, whether eating a fast food burger or jerky made from a proud Mule deer, is consuming a creature which as once alive, but was slain for their sustenance. Nevertheless, I've come to consider it an important virtue to participate in the ecosystem as a responsible hunter does. Note how the term "responsible" excludes poachers that ignore government regulations concerning management of game populations, or, in my opinion, those that hunt game they have no intention of consuming. I disagree with exotic hunts that seek to "bag" a rare animal for mere trophy's sake. That's not being the "ecological participant" that my father taught me to be.

Having said that, the actual harvest of the animal (i.e. killing), is something that cannot be divorced from the mystique of hunting. The marksmanship necessary to ensure that the animal is, in fact, slain (not merely sent of into the woods wounded, to die providing no benefit to the human "predator") requires preparation that precedes the outing by weeks or months. The hunter must educate themselves on the various regulations specific to the region so that they are compliant with game management and (during rifle season) firearm safety laws in every way. They must outfit themselves with the needed gear and accessories for the safety and comfort of their party. In my case, my father saw to my care and comfort, all the while teaching me to be more self-reliant through the process. I cannot speak for all hunters, but I was imbued with a striking appreciation for nature through this process; it's beauty, artistry and fragility. "Pick up after yourself," "police your brass," "minimal residual impact" were the frequent commands. Woodsmanship and ecological responsibility were the lessons and the wilderness was the classroom... and "class" was ALWAYS in session whether or not we saw any deer.

I remember killing my first buck. I was young. I fired three accurate shots that all contributed to the deer's quick expiration. It appeared to suffer as little as possible - if at all. This was important to me. As we approached the downed animal, my father began giving me instructions on how to "gut" it right then. Thoroughly grossed out, I resisted, hoping my dad would just do it for me. He became indignant that I might even think of slaying an animal this majestic and then seek to escape taking responsibility for the entire process. "No son of MINE is going to cheapen life that way by just killing an animal, but then not cleaning it too." Needless to say, I learned everything about the insides of a Black-tailed deer that morning. It was a messy and sobering ritual that had begun months before at the target range, and would later culminate with the integration of venison into family meals. At dinner, whenever some on my deer was included, the round of thanks for providing it was uniquely mine to receive. It was profound. That connection with not only the animal, but with the entire process, would wash over me anew with each successive morsel. Something primitive and timeless had been handed to me, and the singular pride that came from engaging it remains to this day.

Over the years, as I no longer lived near my father, hunting became less and less a personal pursuit. Eventually I sold my deer rifle to pay for college books, and seemed to lose all interest in perform all that work. I eventually got another buck again 20 years after the first one during another outing, of course, with my father (I've gotten just two in my lifetime). Even then, though, I was more pleased that my dad was pleased with my buck than I was elated for getting it. I'm just not a hunter as a matter of instinct.

Recently though, I've been thinking differently about it. Because the entire process, from sighting in your rifle at the range to enjoying your harvest at the dinner table, is seemingly such a powerful conductor of life lessons... I've felt like I should pursue it for my sons' sake, and for mine. The task is daunting. Re-acquiring the "tools" necessary to undertake this venture are varied and expensive (i.e. firearms, bullets [or bows and arrows], camping gear, licenses, deer tags, etc.). Learning and selecting the places to hunt is no small task either. I don't live in the same region I grew up in. Texas hunting is a very different "animal" (pun intended) from that of northern California. It's intimidating to be so unfamiliar with local customs and access areas for hunting... to say nothing of the expense of actually taking the trip. All of this could be an effective deterrent from attempting it at all, but the lessons conveyed from one generation to the next through hunting were so important as to make all the trouble seem necessary and valuable.

I'll keep learning what I need to and perhaps I may soon be out there with my boys, teaching them some of what my father taught me.

Coddling the Grouch

2011-10-18T07:41:00.000-07:00

There's a particular demographic group in our society that has been coddled, and excused, and accommodated and tolerated for so long that they feel like they can just do and say what they want, wherever they want. I'm talking about grouches: those negative and grumbling people that seem to find a destructive super-cell imbedded inside every silver-lined cloud. You see them all the time, but mainly can hear them nearby. Their voice delivers that raspy, doomsday prophecy concerning the present opportunity while their shoulders hunch over and sink back into their skull. The airborne negativity needs to be resisted if you don't want to contract their strain of pessimism. There's no known vaccine. Vigilance is the only treatment.

Ride Out!

2011-09-26T10:03:00.000-07:00

With the knowledge you have gained
from a hundred training days,
Ride out!

With trust in one and all
to heed the blaring urgent call,
Ride out!

With courage few can know
and brilliant skills to show,
Ride out!

With honor, grace and pride,
and God ever on your side,
Ride out!

On apparatus prepped with care
to dangers few would ever dare,
Ride out!

To those emergencies to solve
with your leaders' fierce resolve,
Ride out!

To your city, swift and brave,
that prays for God to come and save,
Ride out!

To your neighbors, scared and near,
and family, loved and dear,
Ride out!

As God's caring hands and feet,
knowing what timely needs you meet,
Ride out!

Prayers for a Fire Station

2011-08-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

On May 21st, it was my privilege to participate in the dedication of the new station for Fate Fire Rescue. The fire department for the City of Fate, Texas is an exemplary team that has taken a leadership role in Rockwall County, demonstrating excellence that neighboring departments can learn from. Having been their fire chaplain since 2007, it has been my honor to serve them since then, though after moving to Houston in late 2009, my interaction with them diminished considerably. Imagine my joy when they asked I be present for, and participate in the dedication (and "blessing") of their newly constructed, state-of-the-art, station on Main St. Not qualified to offer a sacramental or "priestly" blessing for their station, I performed instead my usual habit of writing prayers for the occasion that we might offer up to God on behalf of those that assemble and serve there. This constituted a "blessing" which could be invoked by any who read them as often as they do. The following were written for the occasion of the station dedication, but will also be framed and given to the dept to display as they see fit (it was suggested that these prayers might be hung in their designated spaces within the station). I post them here for my friends to see what manner of "blessing" I hope that my beloved firefighters will receive as often as such prayers are read among them:

Prayer of Blessing for the Training Room

O gracious Lord, who by your Spirit did train the young men of old in the ways of battle for the service of your people, Grant that by that same Spirit those that have given themselves over to be counted among this department shall receive the excellent training and instruction as is fitting for servants of our God in the care of this fine city. Illuminate their minds to sound precepts and teach their hands for service, that residents may call upon them with confidence of their skilled instincts to save, to the honor of the most responsive Savior, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Prayer of Blessing for the Berthing and Rec Areas

Almighty God, who has given space within these walls for them who stand watch over this city, and with utmost vigilance remain ready to answer the call, to receive rest from their labors while sleeping for a time or enjoying such delights as their camaraderie affords, Grant that they may find in here a replenishing respite when not needed for emergencies or such duties as are asked of them to the taxing of their spirits and bodies. So that when running they may not grow weary, and in walking they will not faint, to the glory of your Comforting Son our Lord. Amen.

Prayer of Blessing for the Apparatus and Equipment Bay

Almighty Father, who is the sender of all things fine and helpful into the world, for the benefit of your creatures great and small, and who has provided such excellent equipment for these your helpers to use in service to this city, Grant that this collection of tools and gear may accompany them on the apparatus which, carried along by your Spirit, may enable them to fully bring that help for which you have empowered them, for the reputation he who provides all help to the distressed, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Prayer of Blessing for Command and Control

O God our Chief, who has ordered all the world to follow them that lead with excellence, and who has provided as gifts from your gracious treasury such officers as may command your servants in this duty, Grant that they, being ever mindful or their charge, will increase in love and competence for guiding those that so need their leadership. And we entreat you that their devices and channels of communication might never fail them, that through their clear direction and wise admonition, citizens may dwell assured that God has sent his best to them in time of need. To the honor and glory of he who rules from his throne, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Porch Life

2011-08-01T06:50:00.000-07:00

Part of what defines a family is how comfortable the members are around each other. We've all been to those family gatherings in which some members maintain a cordial "truce," but the warm reception was a little much to ask. Visit any home and you'll immediately take notice of how those that live there relate together. Do the spouses seem agreeable and supportive of one another? Do the children play nice and respect the grown ups? It doesn't take long to gauge the life of the household by observing how the residents get along, if they enjoy each others' company or if they like to hang out together for no particular reason.

So is it with a family; so it is with a church. There are many indicators that can help one detect the health of a church. How many attend? What do they give? How many are sent out from there to Christian ministry? Do they value symbols and sacraments in worship? There are a wide variety of factors that can demonstrate that this is a healthy local body of Christ, following the Lord and growing into a mature expression of his Church. Among the telltale signs that a church is maturing into something honoring the Lord is how comfortable it's members are with each other, and how readily they welcome newcomers into that comfort zone. This exercise of a healthy church can be summed up in the technical term: "hanging out."

It's valid question to ask whether a church's members like to "hang out" together, having nothing particularly special to do than to simply enjoy each others' company. A church body is often called a "family," or a "home church." If the "home" analogy is to be adequately explored, then someone must ask, "Where is the living room?" What space is provided by the church wherein the "family" members can simply "hang" together? What facilitates their "hang out?" When can it occur?

Many churches are so heavily programmatized that they cannot imagine supplying space and time for its members to do absolutely nothing but sit and relate together. I worked for a "mega-church" before, where its nearly 4,000 members and multiple pastoral staff exited the building all within minutes of the Sunday service being dismissed. All that was left within half an hour of the closing song was the janitorial staff (which included me). The mass exodus was so thorough, that when people showed up late for church, just missing the service by twenty minutes, looking for someone to pray with them, all they found was us janitors there to minister to them. The instinct to "hang together" was not cultivated in that church, though countless sermons about "developing a sense of community" were preached with passion.

Since then I've seen churches not only preach about "community," but also facilitate it by offering space for experiencing that "common life" together. In some places this can be a "fellowship hall," but my experience has been that something unique is offered by an expansive porch or courtyard. This could be due to the fact that the Anglican churches I've attended have members that share an appreciation for good tobacco. Smoking a pipe or a fine cigar appears to facilitate "hanging out" together better than many other methods can. Obviously since smoking isn't going to occur indoors, a church porch is necessary for it. For this reason the porch is needed to facilitate Pipe Club for the church as well. Now the porch life at Church of the Holy Trinity was legendary for being a "hang out" place for the church family members. Not only did Pipe Club happen there the last Friday night of each month, but Sunday afternoon found that porch populated with people in no hurry to go anywhere. Many of the men smoked while the women related together near the playground where children continued to play. The "common life" of the church was plainly evident. I often commented regarding the men that didn't race home to watch the game: "Of course they're all football fans... they're just bigger fans of each other."

St. Matthias Anglican Church has a porch area too (pictured above). It's well suited to facilitating their Pipe Club on the second Friday night of each month, but has gone under utilized on Sunday after the Holy Communion service. While every church differs in culture and practice, "The Porch," as a function of a church's common life together seems almost required across multiple congregations. While I didn't want to assume that what works at one church would be well received at another, Holy Trinity and St. Matthias share many common elements. Among those are their emphasis on the natural affinity that Christians should have for one another drinking deeply from Celtic Christianity. Since this "brand" of Christian community has been something emphasized by our Bishop, it stands to reason that congregations where our Bishop's presence has been felt would have this emphasis too. Thus "the porch" is a fitting demonstration of how our Bishop's influence has taken root.

In light of this, it seemed only right that the porch at the Cathedral of Saint Matthias would find us, last Sunday, enjoying a pipe or our cigars following the service. It was very natural to rest in that shade, in no hurry to exit to our various homes. As a added benefit, some even visited and inquired about the church, stopping by specifically because they saw us sitting outside. The Porch did its work on a number of levels, even acting as an attractant because of our "common life" being enjoyed together. I suspect that this "porch life" will continue to reap untold benefits, and I look forward to all of them.

The Assisting Instructor's First Workout

2011-07-24T15:19:00.000-07:00

When I taught kung fu full time, it was always understood in the Temple that new instructors were ever being trained and groomed to lead in student development and workouts. One of the first "rites of passage" for a young assisting instructor (AI) in the Temple was to lead the workout in Skill Class. The structure of Skill Class was that the 50 minute group session was divided in half. Roughly 25 minutes was spent on a rigorous workout full of repetitions of moves, stances and strikes that all participating had learned in private sessions. Then a 5 minute stretching period would ensue to help the students relax their breathing and prepare their bodies for pairing up to spend the remaining 20 minutes practicing the technique for the night. The chief instructor, or senior instructor (SI) present that evening (this could, at times be one of the masters visiting, or even Grand Master Simon) would show the class an advanced technique that all present could then practice with their partner. The senior instructor (SI) could lead the workout portion if they chose to, but that was often left to the assisting instructor (AI) to lead.

The first half of Skill Class was often left to the AI for a few reasons:

1. They needed the practice being in front of people. Every AI simply needs time in front. Those butterflies must be subdued. In fact, while the workouts can be intense and physically demanding, they're not as mentally demanding. The AI can teach in short spurts of what we called "filler talk" (i.e. "louder!," or "lower in the stance," or "check your foot position") between repetitions. Such basic techniques are the norm for the workout portion of Skill Class, that the AI need not access a vast repository of knowledge in order to deliver a good sweat. Certainly there is the occasion of the mind inexplicably going blank, wherein the AI is at a loss as to what basic motions to lead the class in. One humorous example was from another teacher that shared about his first Skill Class as an AI. He seemingly forgot all other motions and lead the class in 25 minutes of Front Thrust Kicks. Those poor people were barely able to walk back to the changing room. I myself remember leading in such a basic selection of moves that SI later bailed me out by standing in the back and giving me hints on something else to do beside yet again another High Rising Block/Thrust Punch combination. For the AI, this is his practice time to become comfortable leading the people of the Temple.

2. The students need to acclimate to a new face teaching them. Private instruction can be a more personal venue than a group session (i.e. Skill Class, Kung Fu Club or Sparring Club), thus it's necessary for an AI to develop some of their credibility alongside teaching new students, and at times prior to teaching more advanced students. The AI is being taught directly from the SI throughout the workday and even at times apart from work hours altogether. Thus their skills are often likely beyond that of the more advanced students simply because of the constant exposure they had to higher knowledge. However, the advanced students still, as a courtesy, because of their faithfulness, deserve the AI "prove" themselves before deigning to instruct those that have often been in the Temple longer, though have not sought instructor rank. There simply is legitimacy to letting the student body get used to the new guy. In this symbiotic relationship wherein training occurs, the SI does well to think of the people of the Temple as another means of molding AI's into good teachers.

3. The "technique portion" of Skill Class is made more significant. There's little doubt that when you change instructors midstream in Skill Class, different weight is given to what the latter teacher brings. The AI played the role of the "Tasmanian Devil," bouncing off the walls and leading the workout with such rabid intensity and frenzied energy, that his is clearly not the persona of the poised and circumspect teacher emerging from the office to impart wisdom. His role was simply to hone the body and mind to adapt to the chaotic rigors of hellacious combat. Concluding his portion with a climaxing "sound focus," the AI lead the class into stretching that calmed their breathing and quieted the mind so that the SI delivers higher techniques and pearls of wisdom to those truly prepared to receive it. Speaking with a softer tone, with measured words and a calm demeanor, the SI demonstrates the technique (or series of them), to the class attendants paired up with their partners. His teaching is given considerably greater respect, and the technique is considered "homework" for the students who want to lace their skill sets with this new "hidden treasure."

As a practice, the system of delegating the "workout portion" of Skill Class to the AI is effective and has stood the test of time across many different martial arts traditions, settings and styles. What many might not realize, without this background, is how evident this system is in the Church as well. Unlike Skill Class, the liturgical Holy Communion service is divided into three groups: the ante-communion, the communion and the post-communion. However, in practice they truly do separate into two major groups, for the communion and post-communion are both executed by the "SI" in the service, be it the resident Rector or Bishop present for a special occasion. At the end of the ante-communion portion, the sermon can possibly be delegated to an "AI" specifically authorized to do so as a Deacon, but all that follows concerning consecrating elements for communion cannot be delegated. Only the Priest ("SI") can perform these tasks because of the unique qualifications placed upon them in the Church to do so.

This morning, as the "AI" for Saint Matthias Anglican Church (Deacons are assigned by the Bishop to assist in whatever capacity the Church requires within the scope of their qualifications), I was metaphysically transported back to my first Skill Class as a young AI for Temple Kung Fu Studios. All the of the same admonitions from my SI at the time were repeated today ("Speak up," or "enunciate," or "project your voice so that people can follow along well"). I was tasked with leading the ante-communion portion, climaxing in leading the congregation in reciting the Nicene Creed. We then changed "instructors" with the Rector preaching the sermon and leading the remainder of the service.

The usual and predictable hiccups occurred that are part and parcel with weathering my first "workout" in the liturgy. Indeed I'll remember to pray more loudly when facing the front in the future; for if the people cannot understand what you're praying, how can they give the "Amen" (cf. 1 cor 14:16)? Nevertheless, the entire service was like leading my first "workout portion" of Skill Class all over again. Improvements will naturally occur since no one ever undergoes their "first time" more than once. Being the Deacon for Saint Matthias Anglican Church is comfortingly reminiscent of being a young assisting instructor for Temple Kung Fu, yet I expect it to be far more rewarding; For “physical exercise has some value, but godliness is valuable in every way. It holds promise for the present life and for the life to come” (1 Tim 4:8).

Their First Mission

2011-07-21T17:03:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday it was necessary to send my two sons on their first traveling adventure on their own. Of course, I had no doubts that it would go smoothly. I had the standard confidence that fathers are suppose to have that their sons have been listening well throughout all the previous training on how to act like men in his absence. Previous summers had found all three of my children flying off to the grandparents' house for an extended stay. Early on, they all needed an escort with the airline to ensure that they successfully made the necessary plane changes at layover cities. As the trio grew into seasoned travel veterans, and my daughter was old enough to be the watchful "Wendy" from "Peter Pan," no escort from the airline was requested. So off, onto the airplane my wife and I would sent them each summer, assured of the kids' safe passage to grandma and grandpa's house.

This year differed, however, in that my daughter was now too old to take a full month away from the responsibilities she's seeking to take on here at home. Thus the boys now needed to fly away on their own. The initial exchange that took place with my oldest son needs to be discussed briefly. Upon learning of this situation, his tone took a fearful turn as he mused, "Oh. I don't know about that." Among a father's many duties is to seize opportune moments for his children to mature. At critical times in their life, the right combination of circumstances can emerge that will place them at a crossroads of sorts. In that instant, they can either (1) choose the path requiring courage, that challenges them to take on new responsibilities, exercise new powers and brave the possibility of failure, or (2) shrink back into familiar patterns made comfortable in childhood. To my son's seemingly timid response laced with uncertainty, I countered, "You 'don't know about that?' Well... I DO.. You ARE going on this trip and you WILL be fine. You WILL accept this challenge, and you ARE flying to Grandma and Papa's house on your own. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir." He knew no other response would do.

As we drove to the airport on Wednesday, I took that time on the road to brief them thoroughly on what to expect. I would be with them at Houston Hobby Airport, but not as they changed planes in Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). Yes, that's right. Their first time ever flying alone included changing planes at LAX. I was fine with this because I was aware they were receiving good training. Navigating the highway, I emphasized the need to talk to people, to ask questions, to identify those in a Southwest Airlines uniform as people eager to assist them. I attached it to our family identity with "We're Otts. That means we ask more questions, get more cooperation, speak to more people, coordinate our help and get more done than most people. Some might not ask for help," I warned them," because their pride convinces them it'd be better to do it alone...not so with us. We're Otts," I continued, "we get it done because we ask for help. Understand?"

"Yes sir," they both agreed in unison.

I made sure this principle of asking and getting help played out before their eyes multiple times at the airport. When we got their, I was shocked to discover that every parking garage was "FULL." In all my years of flying, I have never seen an occasion when all garages were full at an airport. It might be a more frequent occurrence than I'm aware of, but this was the first time I had seen it. After driving two loops around the terminal entrance, I stopped and asked a parking lot attendant where parking could be found. He instructed that lots were available out on Airport Rd. that offered shuttle service to the main terminal. Therefore, that is exactly what we did, and the boys thought the shuttle was a neat addition to their experience.

Next we entered the main terminal and approached the ticket counter. I made sure the boys were watching as I walked up to the Southwest Airlines employee and openly declared, "Hello. These guys are 12 and 14, and it's their first time flying alone." As expected, the gentlemen beamed, looked at my sons and responded, "Outstanding... we'll make sure everything goes perfect." He checked their suitcase, and issued the boarding passes (plus my pass to escort them through security). After successfully navigating the security gate (a tense matter considering the TSA horror stories that abound), we put our shoes and belts back on.

Standing in the center of the main concourse, I began to test them: "Where's your gate information display? Find your flight number. Where's you gate? Is it leaving on time? Do you see the current time there?" Standing there, after they were able to answer all my questions, I was satisfied they could find their bearings in an airport. Still having plenty of time before their departure time, we elected to have lunch. Following that, we walked to their gate. Again, I made sure they were with me, watching me, as I walked up to the gate counter and addressed the attendant: "Hello. These guys are 12 and 14, and it's their first time to fly alone. They'll be changing planes in LAX."

"That's wonderful," she said, winking at the oldest, "these two young men look perfectly capable to me of flying on their own. But if you'd like some directions about the next airport, step up close, honey."

"Man," I thought, "she's good."

She instructed my oldest about the airport they're changing planes at, what gate they'd arrive at, and where the next gate nearby would be. Making sure he understood, she smiled and offered to have them move up in line so as to ensure they'd sit together (Southwest does not have assigned seating). "Wow!" I thought, "this was a good lesson to them in asking for help."

Indeed it was, the boys commented to me as we were waiting for their flight to board on all the cooperation we had received simply because I spoke up. The insights gained through what they witnessed had made an impression, and I could not be more pleased. As a result, I was more confident than ever they would do well on their first "mission" on their own. Waiting by the gate with them, they seemed suddenly taller than they were mere hours before. A little step toward manhood was taken in those brief minutes from the house to the plane. As I watched them saunter down the ramp, the 12 year old looked back at me, but the 14 did not (just as it should be). The elder son's eye were fixed on the adventure ahead, the open door to flight #618 welcoming them into their next phase of life. I was proud of them right then. As a father, I felt the quiet satisfaction of completing a vital stage of their training. These young apprentices stepped out into a new world, and I walked back to the car a little taller as well.

Spontaneous Sacred Space

2011-07-17T14:16:00.000-07:00

Much of my praxi fide regarding interacting with the trappings and surroundings of worship gravitates around "elements of the sacred" (which I describe in "That's Sacred to Me"). Of those elements, "sacred space" is a powerful component. I'm deeply moved by space that has been designated, set aside, prepared and constructed with architecture, decoration and layout for the service and worship of God. The sanctuaries of churches will often reflect their character, history and culture. The wood beams, the stained glass, the steps, stage and shape all reveal something of what the congregation and leadership sought to convey simply by having you walk in and have the senses quickened by the environment. The fact the many cathedrals are built in the shape and floor-plan of a Cross is not lost on me; nor does it escape my attention how steps to the altar simulate ascending the mountain to meet God at the peak. "Sacred space" is an element of the worship that reminds me of God's habit throughout Holy Scripture of "localizing his presence." In a stunning condescension to our spatial finitude, the God that is everywhere elected to make himself detectable somewhere. If he remains everywhere then he's as good as nowhere to those who cannot, due to mortal limitations, be everywhere with him. Thus, the omnipresent God "localizes" his presence somewhere as a benefit to those who need him nearby. What makes some space "sacred" where other space is "common?" God is present there, for the benefit of finite creatures, in a way that he is not present elsewhere. Thus I do not begrudge Daniel praying westward toward Jerusalem (Dan 6:10), since the people of God clearly felt his presence in a way there that they did not feel while in captivity. A church sanctuary can have this effect, being reminiscent of ancient worship in the Temple, when God's presence was so localized as to be visible. These things are on my mind when at church.

For this reason, I was particularly excited to have my ordination to the Diaconate performed in the sanctuary of Church of the Holy Trinity. It's dark wood and subtle windows; it's architecture and pews; it's layout as an intimate and rustic space with heritage and character; along with my own history there over the past two years of becoming "regularized" as an Anglican Christian, reading the selected lessons from the Scriptures during the Holy Communion service, processing as the Crucifer, assisting in preparing the table for Communion or serving as Chalice-bearer. That space is not only "sacred" for use in Christian worship, it has become "sacred to me." To those who might think this an unhealthy attachment, ask any martial artist and they will tell you how the "training area" holds a special place in their heart. I was thoroughly and understandably thrilled to learn that the service would take place at Holy Trinity, and particularly in that place where I had undergone so much "training" to serve The Church in this capacity.

Imagine my disappointment, then, to learn just two days before that the air conditioning was not working for the sanctuary and could not be serviced in time for Sunday morning. I was informed that the entire Holy Communion service, with my ordination included, would need to be moved to the parish hall - where meals, games, parties and all sorts of other activities in the life of a church are conducted. Don't get me wrong. It's still the part of the church's building, so it "borrows" a sacred aspect from the sanctuary simply by virtue of facilitating other necessary functions of the church's culture and mission (the kitchen is there for crying out loud!). Nevertheless, comparatively speaking, the parish hall would seem a rather "common space" to hold my ordination service in light of those thoughts regarding "sacred space" that I carry with me in worship and that I also teach to others. Try as I might to be a "big boy" about the news, I suspect some were likely aware of my downcast tone when I responded to the news with, *sigh* "that's okay. We can't have people melting in the sanctuary. It's July in Houston, after all."

The sense of loss in my heart, and possibly even detectable in my voice, revealed an epic lesson I had yet to learn - or perhaps remember that I already knew: that space is not made "sacred" by human hands, but instead by God's presence. The reason THIS space is more sacred than THAT space is because the Lord is there. Ask any Israelite what makes "that tent" more special than "this tent" and he'll tell you, "Hmm...it might have something to do with the PILLAR OF FIRE (that is God's own presence) shooting up out of the top of it." Among the better examples of this are found in Genesis 28, where Jacob awakens from his vision of the Lord and realizes the Lord is "there" in a manner not experienced elsewhere, renaming it from Luz to Bethel ("the house of God").

Yet even this is eclipsed by the example in Exodus 3 wherein Moses is instructed to remove his sandals because he's standing on "holy ground" near a desert sage bush. We are not to take from this a general reverence for near East desert soil or sage brush. On the contrary, "this ground" here is pretty much the same as "that ground" over there. This bush here is just like that bush over there. Thus, for the Lord to declare THAT ground to be "holy ground" was undoubtedly tied to his presence in the bush before Moses. It's not the bush that's necessarily special because, as Tony Evans as aptly stated, "When God's the fire, any 'ole bush will do." God's presence upsets our fixed notions of "common" and "sacred" because he can, for reasons which seem good to him, chose to inhabit seemingly "common space" and by this rendering it not so "common" anymore. This sense of "spontaneous sacred space" is essential to Christian doctrine, for it reflects God's prerogative to inhabit what and who he wants for his own reasons - not needing to consult with anyone for approval or input. His use of the bush before Moses was the first lesson Moses needed to learn from the Lord...that being: "I use what I want. I inhabit what I want. I empower who I want to do what I want. I, even I, and I alone, make the 'common' into the 'sacred' with my own arbitrary will and incomprehensible presence." This makes Moses' objection all the more exacerbating. God did not choose him because he was special. He was being made special by God's choosing of him. God did not inhabit that bush with his fire because it was sacred. His presence as fire in that bush MADE it sacred. Such could be said of the Apostles as well. A simple character study for each would reveal surprising inadequacies for becoming habitations of the Holy Spirit who would come upon them with power, transforming them into Christ's own witnesses to the far ends of the Earth. These "common" men were made not so "common" after all simply by God choosing who he wants, indwelling who he wants, and consulting none before doing so.

Today, the "sacred space" at Church of the Holy Trinity was to be found in a place normally designated "the parish hall." Our own culture understands this. "Air Force One" is not a specifically striped and equipped Boeing 747. While it may be the normal mode of air travel for the President of the United States, it receives that designation only by carrying the President. Should another aircraft carry the President? THAT plane will be "Air Force One" for that time. So also was that place normally designated the "parish hall" today instead transformed into the "sanctuary." For indeed, where God chooses to localize his presence, that place is now sacred for such time as his people can enjoy his presence there. Without even immediately realizing it, my thoughts regarding "sacred space" were actually reinforced and honed by this event. My ordination DID take place in the sanctuary, for worship of the only God who IS carried on with glorious aplomb. Far from anything missing, unexpected benefits and additions arose that might not have otherwise. Just as one example will suffice: the image to the right [click to expand] shows the moment in which the Bishop placed his hands on me to deliver that particularly connection in the ordination service wherein the responsibilities and weighty charge for a Deacon is placed upon a man, and empowered by God for executing that office in The Church. Another Deacon ("Deacon Dave"), took the picture from his vantage point seated with this music team. The unintended consequence of this angle was that, as the Bishop would later point out to me, the glow of the window's light behind us would give the appearance of "the fire of God descending your head as I laid hands on you." *Gulp* This sobering thought might have been been pictured in some other way had the a/c been working, allowing the service to been held in the normal sanctuary, but not...like...this. This picture was uniquely made possible because "the sanctuary" (or "sacred space") moved about 40 yards to the east this morning.

In addition, "elements of the sacred" present in the service rendered it so monumentally special as to leave all other concerns about architecture virtually irrelevant. Even the music selected was alarmingly appropriate, and it was everything in my power to maintain discipline and not leap for joy, losing all composure in the midst of this reverential event. My two sons were able to serve as Curcifer and Gospeler, completing the picture of our household faith and service to the Church as we processed down the center aisle for reading the Gospel lesson. My good friend, Fr. Lawrence, presented me as a candidate to the Bishop, and I indeed felt very "Viking" as it was now my privilege to lead the congregation in the recitation of the Nicene Creed. ALL of the elements of the sacred were present (Sacred times: it was during the Sunday morning Holy Communion service. Sacred rites: the ordination service was meaningful, ancient and weighty. Sacred objects: carrying the Cross, the Gospel, etc.. and having a Deacon stole place over my shoulder. Sacred Offices: the Bishop was present to conduct the ordination, in involved Presbyters and the induction of a new Deacon. and yes... Sacred space: we held the service in "the sanctuary").

I learned this morning, or at least needed to be made to remember, that God may, at any time, create "spontaneous sacred space" with the help of any human hands or the planning of prepared architecture. His presence alone is what is required to make a space "sacred," and in this we had a generous portion of his presence today. My ordination as a new Deacon in the Reformed Episcopal Church did indeed take place in the "sanctuary," and I was short-sighted in thinking it might be otherwise. Thanks be to God that he localizes his presence to make the space around him "sacred," wherever that might be.

The Line of My People

2011-07-13T08:41:00.000-07:00

Lo, there do I see my father...
Lo, there do I see my mother and my sisters and my brothers...
Lo, there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning...
Lo, they do call to me. They bid me take my place among them...
...in the halls of Valhalla where the brave may live forever.

This is the dying confession of the Vikings in the above movie clip from "The 13th Warrior." It appears loosely based on (if internet sources are to be trusted) an ancient "Viking Death Prayer" dating to well into the first millennium A.D. In the context of that story, it is prayed just before the one praying is expecting to die any moment and enter the afterlife. Many cultures have this custom of preparing themselves for death, reflecting on being "gathered to one's fathers" in the moment before leaving this life and taking that "journey" into the next one. No doubt Muslims, Jews and other major religions of the world all have such an incantation. Certainly a Christian would naturally recite The Lord's Prayer or perhaps Psalm 23 in that final moment. Nevertheless, something should be on the tip of the tongue at that moment to remember one's belief and what you expect to behold when your eyes close for the final time.

The "Death Prayer" in the clip above is highly instructive on a number of levels. Among the chief lessons that should be gleaned, though, is found in line three: "Lo, there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning." It has become such a maxim that this truth runs nearly uncontested: rugged individualism is killing Christianity in the West. Individualism has become religiously syncretized with Christianity to the point that when someone is asked to give their "testimony" of converting to Christ, they typically speak only of their own religious decision and conversion, leaving out the familial context into which they were born. The instinct to tie one's self with the family line that has come before is so conspicuously absent that missiologists note with regret that even in churches the difference in greeting stands in contrast to the rest of the world (Inside the U.S.: "Hi. What's your name?...What do you do?" contrasted with outside the U.S.: "Hello. What's your name?...Who is your father?"). To combat this tendency it is necessary to remind people just how "tribal" or "communal" Christianity is meant to be.

This concept is ubiquitous throughout both the Old and New Testaments of the Bible. Specifically, our focus in class recently was on the genealogical record of 1 Chronicles chapters 1-9. For some, reading through this record can become cumbersome, labored and even curing insomnia in some cases as people pass out. This is unfortunate since this record, and others like it in Holy Scripture, is so important for the reader within the faith community to identify with the ancestral story. One did not simply arrive into life with the LORD on their own. There is a tribal tale to tell regarding God's history with "your people." Over and over again God speaks to the people of Israel with the opening reminder, "I am the LORD your God that brought you out of the land of Egypt..." Communal history and personal identity are inextricably linked.

For this reason, the ancestry of faith becomes the most important story one can know and tell. It is because the ancestry of faith trumps all others that it's such an important source of identity. Even Jesus listed his "mother and brothers" as those "who hear the word of God and do it" (Matt 12; Mark 3; Lk 8). So "the line of my people, back to the beginning" is the ancestry of faith for as long as God has been relating to people, holding them covenantally close to himself as a Father holds his children. This "line" is also reflected in how authority in the Church is passed down. The paradigm of "Apostolic succession" for bishops serves as a central uniting strand in "the line of my people." Quite literally, when a bishop can trace his successive "line" back to the Apostles it offers a powerful visual image of "the line of my people" because it truly is laid out on a chart, tracing this "line" back through the centuries.

In like manner, in worship the congregation joins with all that have come before in lifting our hearts up unto the Lord. This communal/tribal sense of worship is reflected as the liturgy confesses "Therefore with angels and archangels, and with all the company of Heaven, we laud and magnify Thy glorious name, evermore praising thee and saying, HOLY, HOLY, HOLY, Lord God of hosts, Heaven and earth are full of thy glory: Glory be to thee, O Lord Most High. Amen" (emphasis added). Thus even in the the process of worship, we rightly can say, "Lo, there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning." Any given Sunday is a tribal exercise wherein our individualism can be shed, confessing that we, along with the whole ancestry of faith, will "dwell in the house of the LORD forever" (Psalm 23:6).

For me, one aspect of a Holy Communion service that feels truly "tribal" (or almost "Viking") is the recitation of the Nicene Creed. In reciting it together as a congregation, we confess the same faith as did "the line of my people, back to the beginning." The Church is "the line of my people." But not merely them, for ancient Israel also worshiped the only God who IS until he was revealed in the person of Jesus Christ. So "the line of my people" truly does extend "back to the beginning." There is ONE God and he only ever has ONE people for himself that are charged to reveal him to the world; and since the Church as become what ancient Israel used to be, that ONE people is "the line of my people, back to the beginning."

I can see "the line of my people" in Christian icons, in artwork of the ancient Church, in frescoes and wood carvings. I can see them in the heroic tales of the Reformation or in the succession of bishops in the first millennium. I can see them in the Acts of the Apostles authored by Luke, or the genealogical record of Christ authored by Matthew. The line of my people extends back through English reforms of Thomas Cranmer, the translation works of William Tyndale or the Bohemian John Huss. This line reaches back through the missionary exploits of Saint Patrick or the persecutions of Diocletian. This line spans the globe and includes churches on every continent and throughout time, from Tokyo to Antioch, from Philadelphia to Alexandria. It runs across north Africa and through the Scandinavian fjords. It navigates around the British Isles and under the Cape of Good Hope. This line runs through the great ecumenical councils of Nicaea and Chalcedon. "Lo, there do I see the line of my people..." of all tribes, tongues and nations that at are my fathers, my mothers, my sisters and my brothers though faith in the Lord Jesus Christ "...back to the beginning."

"Lo, they do call to me..." from around the throne of he that was worthy to receive and open the scroll by purchasing for himself a people with his own blood. "They bid me take my place among them..." worshiping with angels and archangels, hearts lifted up unto the Lord. Because the Lord is our Shepherd, we will dwell in the house of the Lord... forever. Amen.

Theology Held in the Hands

2011-07-10T17:17:00.000-07:00

For some, theology is primarily a mental exercise, giving ascent to formulations and propositions that summarize or articulate Christian doctrine. There is nothing wrong with this per se, for it is often asserted that Christianity may be more than mere propositions, but it is never less. However, when theology is thought as simply a cerebral pursuit is when we think amiss. Theology can be as tangible and material as when "doubting" Thomas touched the hands and side of the newly resurrected Christ ("God with us"). To secure our redemption, God took upon himself full humanity in the Person of Jesus Christ. However, this is not the first time he has seen fit to use the material of this world to convey his power and presence. In fact, God has a very long track record of using material stuff to convey his spiritual presence. Sometimes, the reality of God can be held in one's hand.

In the Old Testament, "sacred objects" conveyed the presence and power of God in an object or instrument dedicated for Divine use and for his service. The staff of Moses, the Ark of the Covenant, the cloak of Elijah all were inanimate objects; yet God nonetheless used them in a way to clearly show he is present in the world, using material things to accomplish his work. Thus the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, the ultimate use of earthly "stuff" (full human nature and physiology) to express the full presence of God, is the culminating apex of a "Divine habit" demonstrable throughout time. For this reason we would completely expect that God would continue to use "stuff" to convey his grace and presence since no New Testament Scriptures bring this "habit" of God to a screeching halt. On the contrary, so evident is this practice of God in relating to his Church that the abuse of Communion (physical elements) would find some in the church at Corinth sick and others dead as evident judgments of God for misusing his "stuff." Therefore, we acknowledge that the reality of God (theology) is not merely a mental issue; it can have very tangible and material moments to it.

Of all that the Church practices, the most central example of this is the Communion service. This has always been true in the Church, the reduction of it to "merely a memorial" of Christ's sacrifice on the Cross is a relatively recent invention of Swiss Reformers from the 16th century. It has always been seen as expressing God's presence and conveying his grace to us in a manner that other rites do not. This is why abuse of this could constitute capital crimes according to the Spirit of God in relating to the Corinthians. The significance and power of Communion is such that it is no small matter to participate in serving it to God's people. Having been serving as a Chalice Bearer, I can say that the weight of it is not lost on me. Years of seminary classes and theological lessons are compressed within the moment that I hold the chalice in my hands and approach the nearest worshiper, preparing to offer them the "cup of Christ." At that moment, all that I've learned about God's grace, his habit of conveying his presence through material stuff, the history of the Church in celebrating his redemption together in Communion all come crashing over me. It's as though all of those concepts, lessons and truth could be compressed into a single moment and can be held in the hand and offered to another.

I liken this to a scene in "Iron Man 2" in which the character of Tony Stark spends time in his lab discovering a new element. For special effects, it's a rather impressive moment in the film in which Tony has the components of his research projected as holographic images before him, to be manipulated and controlled using his hands. In an instant of eye-catching imagery, Stark throws his hands wide to expand the view of his "element," filling the room with it's projected details in which he sits at the center. Turning around to behold it all, he basked momentarily in the discovery of it, then claps his hands together to once again reduce the image's size down to a single glow of light in his palm. Going from the exploded view to the singular view with the wave of his hand brings the whole reality of the element, which was far larger than him, into a compressed size that he can hold in one hand.

It is my favorite moment of the film (and occurs in the above clip at 3 minutes in) because of how it not only conveys the idea of sacraments, but also ministry moments in time as well. I've had plenty of instances like that when a quick event in ministry work seems to compress within seconds centuries of church history and doctrinal back-and-forth. All of this can happen when working in the Church during a worship service, and particularly during Holy Communion. I walk up to the rail to gently offer the cup to a Christian awaiting the Communion wine, easing it forward and reciting those comforting words to accompany offering this to God's people:

THE Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was shed for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life. Drink this in remembrance that Christ’s Blood was shed for thee, and be thankful.

In that intimate moment, it is the privilege of the Chalice Bearer to lean in close to them to ensure a smooth and clean motion holding the cup to the lips of people. Often it means being closer into worshiper's "personal space" than is even needed of the Presbyter who must walk by placing bread in Communion bread in their hands (as is his exclusive responsibility). Nevertheless, in that second of connection, it is not me they commune with, but Christ; yet in the mystery of the Church, they and I do connect in that setting. The vertical connection to God and the horizontal connection among people are both pictured in the holding of a chalice full of communion wine to a parishioner's lips. Centuries of history, tomes written on theology, scores of Biblical passages all compress into that brief two or three seconds with each person. Certainly Tony Stark's exploded molecular view of theological reality is compacted down into the single act of leaning in to offer the cup. Theology is held in one's hands at that moment.

Not long ago, I was in the midst of this work during a Sunday morning Holy Communion service, when I noticed a visitor at the rail who I did not recognize. As I followed behind the priest, who was placing Communion bread in the hands of kneeling Christians, I approached this man with the cup of wine. To my surprise, he motioned to me that he had already had bread and did not expect to receive wine as well.

Now I had read that during Medieval times the Roman Catholic Church had fanned the flames of controversy by refusing to offer communion "under both kinds," offering only bread to the people and not wine as well. The Reformation of the 16th and 17th centuries addressed this and rightly corrected it. Nevertheless, some Roman churches persist in using Communion as a means of sparingly offering God's grace because those approaching the rail should be more sober minded about it. Rubbish!! One dare not withhold that which Christ has freely offered and expect to escape his stern rebuke. I was at once both indignant that any had ever told this man that he could not have Holy Communion "under both kinds" and moved with compassion for him. How much had this practice taught him that God's grace is only partially offered to him? How much had he wondered about his worthiness to boldly approach the throne of grace with his petitions and prayers because of some Roman practice of keeping something back. ALL of Communion is meant to convey Christ's presence and grace to us as our hearts are caught into heaven in worship to "commune" with him where he sits at the right hand of the Father. I would NOT want to be on the receiving end of Jesus' displeasure at watching tangible, material, physical instruments of his own grace being withheld from people.

So there I was, offering the Chalice to this man that was not expecting to receive it. The exact exchange is important. He held up a hand and said, "thank you, but I had bread." Instantly my mind raced through my church history lessons to access a reason for which he might not expect this also. My response to him was, "it's ok. You can have this too." Of course, what I didn't say was, "and I don't care what loser told you otherwise!" Instead, I just smiled and offered God's grace freely to him. He beamed. He lit up like a man who had just been told he wasn't simply going to receive "part" of God's assuring grace that day, but ALL of it. Of course, I smiled wide as I leaned into him and offered him the cup. I felt a compressed version of the Reformation had occurred in those few seconds. Stark's molecular hologram compressed down and theology, centuries of it, could be held in the hands.

The Church has always recognized that the Gospel is communicated through symbol, sacrament and speech. Theology is not merely a mental pursuit. It is communicated through very tangible means sometimes, and even the realities of God's grace can be offered through sacraments offered and received in faith. In my duties so far, I've seen vast amounts of seminary training compressed into single moments, and events into the material, earthy "stuff" of worship elements. Indeed, God's still uses "stuff" to convey is presence and grace; and thus theology sometimes can be held in one's hands.

Congratulations sounds weird

2011-07-05T10:10:00.000-07:00

Upon a successful completion of the oral examination under a panel of watchful eyes and learned examiners, it is with a serious heart that I report a ceremony ordering me to the Diaconate still on the schedule. Of course I was pleased with the outcome, and the approval of such godly men, as a prerequisite for serving in the Church with those responsibilities and duties assigned for that office. For the person committed to the work of the Church, whether seeking that career or not, the satisfaction gleaned in being useful to it's mission is a generous reward. However, it is precisely because this is not a "career move" that the many "congratulations" I've received seems just a little strange to me. The new black shirt and white collar that will be donned henceforth for my church involvement, beginning on the 17th, does not feel like an achievement that would invite such interjections. On the contrary, it's a weighty matter to wear the uniform of one entrusted with the responsibilities of a Deacon, and frankly some jubilations appear nearly inappropriate.

I might liken it to congratulating my daughter that she now not only has the responsibility to clean her room, but to do dishes and laundry as well. Sure we could claim that we congratulate her based on the positive step of accepting more responsibility, but to her it's bittersweet. I can relate to her right now. On the one hand, there's a sense of graciously receiving those congratulations because it is no small matter for the Church to receive another "servant" in the tradition of "Stephen" - first martyr for Christ following his Ascension. On the other hand though, long gone now are the days of remaining the nominal churchgoer content to just do little parts here or there without any real, tangible commitment. In addition, it creates a new realization that being responsible regarding one's writing and conduct are matters than can reflect on the Church in now a different way than before (I'm already growing sparing with my Facebook comments). Certainly it is true that all Christians should think this way, but the uniform just creates a heightened awareness that can impact everything.

These sobering thoughts cast a clerical "shadow" across the "congratulations" offered by some when hearing that I'm being received into the Diaconate. It's a milestone, to be sure, but not necessarily an "achievement." I'm not trying to advance a career, and this step does not move me closer to goals for which I have been ambitious at all. On the contrary, it's a heavy matter to have such a label ("Deacon") placed upon you by those to whom you would submit yourself. It's weighty and laden with responsibilities not previously expected. If someone says "congratulations," I'll thank you them for their kind encouragement; however, to me it still sounds a little weird.

On the Politics of Covetousness

2011-06-24T11:11:00.000-07:00

In a political season (Is it ever NOT a political season?), cultural values can often be revealed in what messages and tactics political candidates use to gain the favor, and thus the votes, of the electorate. We see what at least THEY think is important to us by how they attempt to offer what we want. For this reason, a political speech or advertisement can seem either affirming or insulting. However, what appears common among many across part lines (though I find that one party does this more than others), is the encouragement to break, violate, transgress or just down right ignore the 10th Commandment: THOU SHALT NOT COVET.

The full verse of Exodus 20:17, translated for the NET Bible reads, "You shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, nor his male servant, nor his female servant, nor his ox, nor his donkey, nor anything that belongs to your neighbor.” In essence, the question as to whether it is fair whether my neighbor has something that I do not should not enter my mind; and if it does, it should be expelled as a negative emotion. I'm to remember that I cannot know all the of the circumstances through which they came to possess what they do; that for all I know they gained such possessions through strictly virtuous means; and that it's possible their example is simply meant to inspire me to be more industrious. While it may be possible that my neighbor acquired their possessions through "ill gotten gain," I cannot know that for sure; and even if I do know, that is a matter for them to answer to God for - who has commanded that I not covet their possessions especially if they unethically gained them.

For this reason, one might as well, in our culture and economy, paraphrase verse 17 the following way:

You shall NOT covet...

- your neighbor's healthcare plan
- your neighbor's retirement plan
- your neighbor's car
- your neighbor's house
- your neighbor's school district
- your neighbor's subdivision
- your neighbor's prosperity
- your neighbor's daycare
- your neighbor's toys
- your neighbor's country club membership
- your neighbor's university
- your neighbor's title in the industry, or
- your neighbor's influence in the public square.

In other words, my neighbor's business is none of my business. As one that has had less that my "neighbor" almost ever since leaving home at age 20, I can attest that this is not always easy to perform. It is, however, the moral mandate nonetheless. They are responsible for them, and I am responsible for me. Each is to guard their own conscience before God; and it is God that has mandated not to covet.

If I say that it is not fair for my neighbor to have that which I do not, it is God I argue with - not with political pundits. It is God to whom I must answer if I ignore his prohibition against this attitude, just as if I had ignored his commandment of "Thou shalt do no murder," or "Thou shalt not commit adultery," or "Thou shalt not steal" to name a few others. In the choice between virtue and vice, these commands remove ambiguity concerning key moral "pillars" of a lasting society. A culture can ill-afford, and maintain any expectation of longevity, to encourage wide-spread dishonoring of fathers and mothers, rampant murder or stealing, adultery as a pastime or bearing false witness as a praiseworthy trait. In like manner, so also will the society assuredly self-destruct that encourages ubiquitous coveting as well.

For this reason, I tire so greatly of political candidates seeking to win my vote with promises to tax from my neighbor that which my neighbor then cannot refuse them, in order to turn around and offer it to me. Being among the "poor" (by all economic measures within the U.S. economy we are so - obviously not so when compared to the "developing world"), I feel particularly patronized by the promises offered by candidates during their various campaigns. I have a wealthy neighbor next door. I like him and his wife. They are a nice couple. We share life concerns and yard duties. However, whatever a politician promises to provide for me, I know that must take from him; that he'll have no choice in the matter; his generosity be damned, they will take it through taxation and offer it to me so that I'll be grateful for their provision. In essence, the politician is encouraging me to covet my neighbor's belongings and lifestyle amenities so that I'll will vote for them. They are encouraging me to break or ignore the 10th commandment!

In a culture that is increasingly venerating vice over virtue, this is another aspect that I've been disgusted with the mechanism by which our desires are revealed to the world. The politics of covetousness have me wandering whether the electorate has not so punted the Divine lawgiver as to ever receive this admonishment. Certainly no candidate will ever be elected suggesting to news reporters or potential voters, when asked whether its fair that the rich have what they do, "That's none of your business." Even a relatively poor person such as myself could hardly get away with such an admonishment now. Too many seem just naturally desirous to "get even" with "the man." I lament such instincts. It's does not speak well for us.

On the Mixture of Kung Fu and Church service

2011-06-20T16:30:00.000-07:00

"Better to sweep the floors of the Temple than to seek one's fame and gain outside of it."

This was a common saying in the martial arts system I trained under. It's possible we romanticized the life the old Shaolin monk in the 2nd Fukien Temple, and perhaps even took at face value more than we should stories of the lifestyle of Shaolin Priests sent out into the countryside; but I figure that the old legends must have an antecedent of truth to them. These stories and legends helped us to maintain the right attitude on the Temple, and to think about our training and our responsibilities with the right frame of mind. The legends and legacies, many of which have been since supported in both popular magazines and reputable journals about martial arts, helped us think about service to our students and community, about humility in the face of authority, the passion with which we should pursue our students' growth and the reverence one should show to the history and contribution of those who have come before you.

In the Temple we started with a little "bow in" procedure that acknowledged both the past masters that had developed the Art and kept is alive throughout the ages, and also acknowledged Grand Master Simon for bringing it to us today. It was not necessarily declaring our Grand Master as superior to all other teachers in the world, but a martial artist is nothing without respect for his teacher. That respect remains with them throughout their training in the temple, and became part of their strength when they left the temple to go out and take justice and their teaching out into the world. As a result, the training lifestyle of the Shaolin priest maintains his ability to serve those around him, and keeps his skills honed for instruction as well. The priest has entered a life of service, continually training so that service does not dwindle from him.

The parallels to service in the Church are astounding. So much so that I have found that most of my old principles and ideals for serving and training in the Temple fit seamlessly with serving in the Church. When I don the vestments for a Sunday morning, it might as well be the flowing uniforms we trained in. When in the sanctuary, I have every instinct to bow when I enter or exit just like in the Temple. The Cross I carry seems well weighted like a kwan dao. Orthodoxy feels like loyalty to the "past masters." Apostolic succession of the Bishop seems reminiscent of the importance we gave to tracing the line of one's master, though a succession of masters, back to the early Temple, as a manner of claiming fidelity to the Art and the master's that have come before. I was once told that if I looked at the Church through the same lens that I looked at the Art, I'd be in a liturgical context - most likely Anglican. Well, indeed that is exactly where I am.

I considered all of this as I trained my old forms today in the backyard. In light of the clear comparisons that can be drawn, I could not help but think of my kung fu as a exercise of in service of the Church now. Each movement, every leap and strike seemed like practice for skills that Church puts to use for servicing the Lord and the community. Blurring the line between Art and Church even further, "kung fu" is often a euphemism for "excellent work." There's a "kung fu" of poetry, of architecture, of writing, of reviewing accounting statements or working on cars. Yes, there can be also a "kung fu" of liturgy and service in the Church. Thus, kung fu in my back yard now feels like a living analogy of my "kung fu" of church service. If I ever have the opportunity to teach kung fu in the church again, the combination will feel so very complete. The mixture of kung fu and church service is a joy, especially when I feel like one flows into the other without any effort at all.

On the difference between sermons and homilies

2011-06-13T07:29:00.000-07:00

Sunday was my first occasion to deliver the homily for a liturgical service, and the differences between this setting and previous ones in which I have preached could not have been felt more strongly. The transition from one tradition to the next has been rather smooth regarding participating in other aspects of the service, but none of those so clashed with my personality and ministerial experience of preaching the sermon in the midst of the ritual's flow. In Baptist context, a physically animated communicator is not simply welcomed, but practically required. The science and art of communication must become the focal point of the service because the preaching of the Word is the most highly valued "sacrament" in that tradition.

When I was a Baptist preacher, I was very animated. I've never stood stationary behind a pulpit in my life. I moved around, gesticulating wildly to make my point with hand motions, face expressions and body stances. My marching along the stage and around the podium has even helped me address my life-long battle with talking too fast. The steps and gestures created something of a "cadence" with which to time my syllables and avoid becoming the audio equivalent of fine print. The "auctioneer" preaching style needed to be tamed and movement helped with that.

In addition, extemporaneous anecdotes or quips were also encouraged in the Baptist preaching context. Sure preparation of a quality sermon was prudent and expected, but relating to the audience was also valued; and this is achievable through letting one's "hair down" a bit. After all, the entire service builds up to the "climax" of the compelling sermon and the responses it motivates. For this reason, I've spent approximately 18 years with that approach, developing those skills and seeking to refine THAT type of delivery. I've spoken in front of churches and classrooms, and have been confident that I'd be at ease addressing them once I get going (the butterflies before have never really fully gone away).

That confidence would flee far from me last Sunday as I prepared to deliver the sermon in a context that differs so considerably from the Baptist genre. In an Anglican service the preaching of the Word is not the chief "sacrament" that the congregation will encounter - Communion is. Thus, the service does not build up to the sermon. The sermon is part of the build up to the Eucharist. For this reason, it's inappropriate for the preacher to so deliver his message in a manner that might eclipse the importance of Communion. The same characteristics valued in a Baptist preacher are not those valued in an Anglican preacher. The sermons even differ in length and structure. Consequently, it's important that the Anglican preacher remain behind the pulpit. Mobility is not your friend. In addition, I was trained that when reading the Epistle selection in the Sunday morning service, it's inappropriate to infuse too much of one's personality into the reading because, again, that would be imposing upon the reading of God's Word the distinct skills and nuances of the reader. It's NOT all about you after all.

Therefore, I wrote my sermon to the requisite length, preparing to read it as I had the Epistle lesson at other times as well. This proved a disaster for two reasons: (1) I still did remember that I was delivering a sermon, and thus all the old instincts were right on the surface desiring expression, and (2) focusing on the new constraints created somewhat of a nervous "bind" that distracted from good oratory discipline. Thus I rattled off that sucker with the speed of a radio commercial contest disclaimer. A sermon written for a strong 15 minute duration was completed in 10 minutes. The syllables smeared together like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. The dynamic acoustics of the sanctuary ensured that elderly ears would be forced to hear several sentences at once. That puzzled look on those in the audience was not attentive interest in what was being said; it was the looking of straining to discern WHAT was being said. All of the years of preaching experience had been rendered null and void for this vestment clad "greenhorn."

The solution is not, however, to think about returning to former habits. Instead the need is to adopt new ones. The sermon must be delivered with attention to the components of good communication. The chief need for me will be to SLOW - THE HECK - DOWN. One idea presented to me might prove useful. After the sermon has been written and printed out, I can stamp around the page the image a of turtle. It's slower than a hare, but gets there nonetheless. I'll be looking for that turle stamp in a stationary shop very soon. It will need to have the desired effect by the time the next preaching opportunity arises. Years of experience delivering Baptist sermons can work against you when it's time to deliver an Anglican homily. Perhaps the turtle will help me make that transition smoothly.

Man in Black

2011-05-31T09:51:00.000-07:00

When I first learned that both Deacons and Presbyters wear clerical uniforms in the course of executing their office, I knew right then that would never be me. That last thing I need is someone looking to me as a visible representation of anything organized about the Church of our Lord Jesus Christ. My initial inquiry into the meaning of the uniform received a satisfactory response. The Deacon I asked first point to his black clothes, "I'm a sinner," then pointed to his collar, "but I am called to speak what is pure, true and right." An over-simplification? Possibly. But I found the explanation adequate at the time. Nevertheless, I remained equally committed not to ever be wearing such an indicting set of threads.

Let's be honest. The black suit would be more true than the white collar. On the one hand, my confession is to having been not much of a "spiritual man" in life. I've known many that more easily fit this picture. They seem to find time for daily devotions with great ease. Each word appears filtered through a pastoral care paradigm before being spoken. On the other hand, any particular sense of God's "presence" that I've lived with in life has mainly made me aware of my own depravity. Thus some may spy the clerical uniform and think they are sighting a "saint," when in reality it's more "sinner" that they see.

Nevertheless, to the degree that those who decide such things might find it acceptable to place in uniform such an example as me of simul iustus et peccator ("at the same time saint and sinner"), I will wear such clothes being faithful to that office. I'm used to uniforms. The Navy, the kung fu studio, the fire department all had uniforms, and corresponding ranks and symbolism that needed to be faithfully expressed in both sharp grooming and mindful living. This is different though, in that those uniforms did not carry that weight one representing The Church must bear. Hopefully all of this will remain fresh in the mind, and scare me often enough to be a faithful "man in black."

The "Call" to Ministry

2011-05-22T13:51:00.000-07:00

Resting in its charger, the pager looks like a rather innocuous device that potentially might *squawk* after it's initially turned on. There it sits, in the corner of the bedroom, quietly taking up a little four by five inch space on the desk you try to keep un-cluttered. For the most part, it remains quiet, allowing a blissful REM cycle next to your spouse. The pager may have even remained dormant all day as it was worn on the belt, going about the necessary business. But then sometime around 3:17 a.m., the high-pitched tone emits from the little black speaker nestled in the charger. Several sharp *beeps* ensue, followed by the dispatchers voice calling:

"Attention Fate Fire... Attention Fate Fire, need you enroute to...."

Most often the dispatcher was a woman, so her voice became familiar. Still in a dream-like state, you raise your head off the pillow, jolted awake by the pager tone. Hopefully, you shake your head clear fast enough to hear the remainder of her directions. For the chaplain, it was never expected that I would get to the station as quickly as the firefighters, or even attend every call. But I did listen to each one to discern whether this call might be one in which a chaplain would be of some help. On many occasions, I went anyway, whether or not I would be useful for victim support or rehab, simply because my beloved firefighters were having to be out on a call at this hour anyway... and at the end of the day, I'm first and foremost here for them. Nevertheless, I listen to the dispatcher voice describe the nature of the call: "structure fire." That's all I need to hear.

I hear those words and all ambiguity is gone. Whatever thoughts I might have had about letting them get that "downed power-line" without me, or investigating a carbon dioxide detector going off without the encumbrance of an extra body around, fade into adrenaline filled clarity. Someone is possibly losing valuable heirlooms tonight, or business property they've invested their money, sweat and soul into. At best, some already damaged property will require a messy overhaul to ensure no rekindles threaten even more. At worst, a family is losing a home; to think nothing of the unthinkable, yet very real, potential that loss of life could enter our experience before the Sun rises. In addition, my role is not merely to be present for them that lose so much anyway, but also (arguably mainly for), those that will spend themselves to the last ounce of energy (and sometimes beyond) attempting to save life and property.

Even if the structure is an abandoned barn, with no discernible threat to nearby residents or business, my beloved firefighters will still be up combating the blaze, fighting valiantly to "slay the dragon" wherever he may choose to appear. It is at those times when I want to be with them, to assure them of God's presence, to offer them cold bottles of water in Jesus' name, roll hoses for them or help them get the air pack off for some rest. I want to be with them to persuade them, if by any means I can, that God accompanied them on the call, rode with them on the apparatus and is present with them on the fire-ground. Put simply, when the pager goes off, it's a "no-brainer." The call has been issued for ministry to ensue, and I'm going.

For this reason, I've never been comfortable with the way we commonly speak of a man "called to ministry." What does that mean? Does the "calling" reside upon him like some sort of incurable virus?

Doctor: "I have some heavy news."
Patient: "What is it?"
Doctor: "Your blood work came back positive for "calling:" the virus that causes ministry."

Many an immoral, greedy and heretical man has reaped untold harm upon people simply by constructing ministries out of thin air, seemingly "deserving" of such influence because of the "calling" that is upon him, as if a self-declared "minister" may, by the authority of his own internal promptings, get in on the lucrative religion market. Because I am neither morally superior, not greed-less, the only protection extant for people (from me) desiring to be ministered to is that "calling" that comes from a legitimate need for one authorized to meet it from within a structured team. I simply must, for conscience sake, have the comfort of knowing that if an ecclesiastical "pager" goes off, the one "calling" is authorized to "yank me out of bed and into action." Without that type of official seal, I'd be just another curious intruder, messing up the fire-ground order (I'm speaking of the church, of course) without proper authorization to be there.

In addition, the "call" of the pager creates the vital connection between "caller" and "responder." Without it, I'm just a wandering annoyance looking for a place to be relevant, but without any true resources or backing. I don't agree with the common rhetoric concerning the "call" to ministry. A man may say that he's "called," but then I want to ask, "by whom?" "By God!" he retorts in self-assured indignation. "So say you," I counter, "but if God's communication patterns remain consistent (letting the Prophets, Apostles and many witnesses in on his little 'secret' regarding Jesus Christ), then it seems like he would 'call' in some tangible manner detectable by the rest of us in the Faith also. Take an antacid pill, dude. That 'burning in your bosom' is going to hurt somebody."

As for me, if the "pager" goes off, either by means of a request to teach in church or at college, or even the prodding of authorities over me in the Church to prepare for new levels of usefulness in her operations, I can at least say that I'm responding to being summoned. But respond I will, because such is the instinct of one remaining available for timely service. Of course, all of this use of a pager as an analogy for "calling" is made relevant because the dispatch tone truly is the "call" to ministry for a fire chaplain. Of all the "calls" to ministry I could hear in my life, none could ever be so obvious, and inducing a frantic getting dressed and rushing out the door at 2:48 a.m., than that pager issued to me by the fire department. In such moments, all other thoughts of slumbering comforts, personal schedules or inconvenience are eclipsed by the singular mission of persuading (with my presence) my beloved firefighters that, during their exhausting labors to save life and property, God was with them on "the call."

Faith over Certainty

2011-05-16T18:21:00.000-07:00

Hebrews 11:1 reads "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, being convinced of what we do not see." (NET). The verse is so often quoted that it can be among the most memorized in all of Christendom. The emphasis is often placed on being "sure" and "convinced," but not as much is said about "what we do not see." This is because so much is made of having "vision" in our culture, on "seeing" what's coming up ahead, detecting God's "plan" or discerning God's "will." The problem with that is that it seems to really marginalize the end of the verse: "what we do not see." If a thing cannot be seen, how then can one claim certainty about it? Oh sure, faith may be "convinced" of it, but it doesn't claim the same certainty as though it could SEE it.

In fact, if certainty is the standard, as though we could "see" these things, where is left room for faith? Certainty seems to have become so much of what we think is associated with "vision" that we even suggest that people just "have faith" in the same way. Therefore popular understandings of faith will tolerate no uncertainty. To entertain doubts about what is popularly believed is to "lose one's faith." In circles where faith is highly valued, the one with any doubts may find themselves in a silent minority. In essence, they must remain "in the closet," keeping their doubts to themselves. Otherwise, their faith will not be considered strong enough to receive that coveted of all titles within the fellowship: "edifying."

But over time, I've come to care less and less about whether I deserve the coveted "positive person" statue, and instead if I'm truly wrestling with matters of faith and doubt as I should. Oh this by no means excuses someone to suck the life out of the room when they enter. There's no reason to suddenly become a spiritual "Eeyore;" however, neither should one feel the need to artificially become the "Tigger" of the church either. Honesty with one's self is a vital component to honesty with one's God. Which leads me to my frequent maxim of faith:

Say what you know... not what you don't know.

The list of faith assertions I'm prepared to declare with great confidence has shrunk over time. I now assert fewer propositions, but assert them more strongly. By extension though, things that do not "make the cut," I've become more comfortable with saying, "I don't know... and neither do you." So many subjective assumptions become "received dogma" simply but the frequency of popular use. The everyday phrases thrown out regarding God's "will," God's "call" and God's "plan" all typically come from superstition more than Holy Scripture.

I'm prepared to assert a few things that I "know" (which are more likely than not found in the ancient Creeds), but I won't assert things that I don't "know."

---"You know this is God's will for you, don't you?".... No, I don't "know" that. I'm playing it by ear, hopefully with wisdom - which Scriptures say I should ask for.

---"You know that God has 'called' you to this, don't you?".... No, I don't "know" that. I'm remaining available to be used by the Church according to my skills, abilities and gifts that they perceive a need for.

---"You know that God has a 'plan' for your life, don't you?"....Perhaps, but since he has not revealed that "plan," it's fruitless to obsess over discovering it.

My doubts do not threaten my faith, they just corral it, clarify it, help me assert only reliable things. Please don't be upset if you hear me express doubts, even sharply in the face of adversity. I'm not punting faith, just trying to maintain a faith that won't look silly to me a few minutes later after I've regained the lucid ability to seriously think about what I just said. At those moments, I'd want to slap my forehead and think, "You dork. You don't know that at all. Why did you say it?" That's actually when a strong faith can emerge that, by it's nature, is really "faith;" not the grasping for certainty we often entertain that does not like that there are some things we "do not see."

Generation "xbox" at War

2011-03-22T12:40:00.000-07:00

The present military action in Libya has several troubling components. I can assert, with a clear conscience, that I would have the same concerns even if I had voted for the current President. It seems that the "bar" has been considerably lowered for what constitutes a "clear and present danger" to the sovereignty of the United States. For some reason, we simply are not as war averse as we use to be. For all the accusations leveled by the current culture against previous generations for being less humanitarian, the present day society seems much more comfortable with prolonged military operations with less definable objectives. The present generation of American leaders fight more wars in more places than previous generations did.

This critique uses WWII as "the gold standard" for setting the "bar" in justifying Americans being sent out to war.

To ensure consistency, I will apply to this to the "War on Terror." Unfortunately, what began as a response to a specific attack has seemingly lived beyond its "shelf life."

A "shelf life"?!?! For wars?! Yes. Definitely. When the "War on Terror" began in Afghanistan, many complained that it was taking too long (after 1 year!). I remember, in 2003, chiding the culture, saying, "Come on, people! Can't you have at least the attention span of the WWII generation?" Now, eight years later, I'm inclined to remember those words I spoke and admit: the WWII generation weren't asked to maintain their support for a war THIS long, against an enemy THIS nebulous.

WWII set the bar by offering a clearly definable enemy, with clearly definable objectives. The war effort had a goal (the unconditional surrender of the Axis nations: Japan, Germany and Italy). That generation, it seems, was less willing to enter war that could not be tied directly to American sovereignty or national interests. Accused of being isolationists, those in leadership demonstrated an understandable reluctance to commit U.S. soldiers and sailors, ships, tanks and planes to a cause not convincing to a peaceful populace. The nagging question seemed to be: when the troops return for their victory parade, who will the thankful civilians know they were protected from?

The point is that the WWII generation appeared to accept the "hell" that is war because the enemy was THAT evil, THAT organized, THAT powerful and THAT much of a threat. Therefore, because of those conditions, we were willing to enter into that war (though we were the latecomers). However, as a culture, we seemed to hate war then. We understood that war is "hell," and a horrific perversion foisted upon the human experience when evil forces are on the march, that must be resisted and defeated. Therefore, when we got into a war, we fought as nasty and efficiently as possible in order to destroy the enemy and go home. We seemed to understand then how bad war is, or at least how bad it SHOULD be so that no one wants to do it very often.

Since then a watershed change has taken place. War is seemingly a lot less abhorrent to the present generation. Thus, we're willing to do it often, and for far less threatening reasons.
We don't require that our incarnations of evil be Hitler anymore...
they can merely be Saddam Hussein.
We don't require that our enemies be threats to our national sovereignty...
they can merely be treats to our "interests."
We don't require that our enemies be powerful compare to us...
they can merely be cruel to their neighbors.
We don't require that our enemies even have a military...
then can merely have enough weapons to terrorize their neighbors.

Thus, we now seem more into "fighting" than we are into "winning."
We're seemingly willing to keep the event going rather than to decisively conclude it.
It's like we don't think it's THAT bad anymore.
It's like a video game.

Generation "xbox" has decided that war is like a "game" that can just keep going, so long as you can show that you seemingly have the upper hand. In a video game, you fight surgically, house-to-house, with hand-held rockets, small arms and occasional bombs. War is clean and neat. You don't gain any points for collateral damage. Our enemies know this, so they have the advantage of knowing that though they destroy our buildings, we will not destroy theirs.

The "War on Terror" has come to resemble more an xbox game than the destruction levels of WWII that convinced the German, Japanese and Italian cultures to get along with the West. And because we fight wars this way, we seem willing to fight them when no discernible mission or clear national threat is present. Libya is along this vein; in this category.

Some may suggest that I'm only critical because this present action was ordered by a President that I did not vote for. But in defense I say that the "War on Terror," though seemingly closer to that standard at the front end, has slipped below it over the years. Therefore, I believe this is a consistent opinion. America does not like war, and thus needs better reasons to enter into it. But the xbox generation needs only the thrill of fighting to justifying picking up the controls and rebooting the game.

The Things that Attach and Corrupt

2011-03-17T06:54:00.000-07:00

Sin is alive...
It has a will.
It eats.
It hates.
It spares no innocence; gives no quarter; honors no boundaries.
It remains ever hungry, and is never satisfied.
It has one instinct, and one instinct alone:

To attach itself to a host, and impregnate him with a creature that will feed on him... destroy him... and then attack everyone around him.

Sin has a metaphysical element, traveling across creation... across time... and across dimensions. It emits out like a wave, and passes through substance, soil and soul.
It's more destructive than a tsunami.
It permeates more than radiation.
It consumes more than Great White shark.
It's more venomous than a Cobra.
...more encroaching than darkness.
...more communicable than the flu.
...more blinding than cataracts.
...more intoxicating than Everclear.
...more irritating than a rash.
...more scalding than boiling water.
and more tactical than a chess master.

It's faster than a viper strike.
...colder than wind chill.
...sharper than a straight razor;
and meaner than a bully.

With sinister cunning, this creature eludes detection until it is close enough to pounce. All of its sensors reach out with mystical searching, seeking to find its prey and perceive its weakness. It crouches at the door (Gen 4:7) of the dark room. Lying in wait, it's patient to await just the right moment to launch through the air and land on the unsuspecting. As the legs extend out to secure a grip, its tail wraps around the horrified victim. If the victim cannot resist well at this point, the creature attaches firmly to the face so as to implant its destructive seed down their gullet. If they can resist, the fight is violent and erratic. So determined is the muscular, spider-like alien to affix itself securely to the new host, that removing it takes the timely and persistent help from friends that care deeply enough to get their hands on the thing and pull with all their might. In fact, unless the quick assistance of beloved associates intervenes, the struggle may be short lived. This creature is strong, agile and wiggly.

Sin, a living thing, does not rest until it attaches itself to the child of God, and lays in them the "seed" of a creature than can destroy them from within and will terrorize those around them. If their family, their friends and their church doesn't step in with loving vigilance, Sin is often too strong for them to fight alone. This is why secrecy is such a friend to Sin, and confession is so harmful to it. Through transparency and confession (James 5:16) the community becomes aware that quick help is vital. In addition, Sin's ability to affix itself to the soul is weakened by confession as well. It's a great mystery, but the very things one would want to keep to themselves out of shame must be shared with others to overcome.

How unfortunate that the historic practice of confession fell out of favor with Protestant traditions. Psychologists and counselors has their use, to be sure, but they MUST be viewed as secondary to the timeless necessity for an officer of the Church declaring, after hearing your confession, "God offers forgiveness to the penitent. Go in peace." This "creature" is determined, and the Church must be more so, if indeed it loves the sinner seeking release from it.

Sin is alive. It's seeks to dominate, impregnate, destroy and multiply. The help of those quick to aid is vital. Though God has granted the Believer great abilities, seemingly absent from those is the strength to fight away the "creature" in isolation.

Out of Sync Shut Down

2011-02-22T08:41:00.000-08:00

When I was the operator for a hydroelectric power plant, one dial that was a "must read" on the indicator panel was the Synchroscope. It measured the compatibility of the outgoing AC being produced by the plant generator with the current already existing in the utility company's power lines. It was vital that the plant AC be completely "in sync" with the outside AC in order to "go online" and send electricity out to the system. The utility company could then measure what power we added to the grid and compensate the project accordingly. What made this "sync up" so important was that the AC (alternating current) traveling through the power lines was used in homes and businesses for lights and appliances set to use it in precise measurements. If the current sent to them was "out of phase" or out of "balance," a lot of damage could occur to these lights and appliances for which we could be responsible. Therefore, the Synchroscope was installed to ensure we would not create catastrophic "brown outs" for the nearby community.

This vital instrument not only allowed the operator to know we were "in sync" when operating, it determined whether or not you could operate. The Synchroscope simply, as a protection to the power grid (and its many customers), would not allow you to go online unless the generator was absolutely "synced" to the outside lines. Thus, during startup, the operator carefully controlled the turbine speed by adjusting the flow intake gate. Too slow? A little flick of the wrist here. Too fast? A little nudge there. Sometimes this could take a while as you "felt" through the process. When the needle finally stayed straight up, you were in sync.

CLUNK! Pressing the "close contact" button locked in the generator frequency, and activated the automated turbine governor. You now could walk away and let the computer do the rest. The power plant was now "in sync" and did not require your complete attention. Go home or drive up to the cabin for a nap. I spent many a night, in all sorts of weather, standing in front of the control panel, fidgeting with the turbine speed to get that sucker "in sync," so I could climb back into my sleeping bag on the powerhouse floor. Old men at the Platina bar still talk about "that idiot" that skied the 5 mile road to the powerhouse one night when the snow was too deep to drive. I HAD to. All that snow-melt runoff represented a lucrative "harvest" for the project.

Anyway, once the generator was "in sync," running on its own, it would continue going until something caused it to shut down. The causes were many. During rainy season, debris in the water might clog the intake screens and force a shut down because too little water was in the pipe to drive the turbine. In the middle of winter, heavy snow might bend a tree limb over and short a power line. The short produced a "phase imbalance," which in turn sent the power plant "out of sync," causing an automatic shut down. In response to this, the plant computer called me on the phone and summoned me back up to the project to fix the issue and start the process all over again. The point is that the Synchroscope was finicky (and rightly so for safety reasons described above), and when it detected a "phase imbalance," it shut down the system to avoid catastrophic damage.

Such can be the case with the human soul. Life conditions can be delicate, and the adjustments necessary to finally feel "in sync" can prove tediously laborious. A little nudge here...a little flick of the wrist there... while you hope that things will finally feel "locked in" and "running smoothly." This is not to pursue the mythical "easy life," but instead to achieve a relative level of "balance" that does not require CONSTANT tweaking. It is, by no means, easily achieved. The "synchroscope of the soul" points up, and the deeply felt connection with one's surroundings seems safe, the "contact" is like no other peace in the world. It's what Hebrew tradition calls "Shalom:" the peace and well being resulting from good, meaningful connections with God, man and creation. It's among the most coveted of conditions known to humankind. This peace and "balance" can be felt in friendships, in families, at work or in one's community. You sense it when you visit the restaurant where everyone knows your name. You can feel it when you lie in a hammock with a spouse on a perfect Spring afternoon. You can detect it when friends hover around a campfire and tell stories about about their ancestors.

It's REALLY tangible when the connections truly "sync" at a local church. Friendships develop, confidences are held, prayers are shared and tears are shed all as part of the procedure of inching into "sync." It's a painstaking process, but when you're in "sync," you finally extend the vulnerability-inducing trust of "closing" the connection (meaning being truly connected). You're in "sync," and there's no feeling like it in all the world. What, then, if something causes a "phase imbalance?" A personnel change; a communal upheaval; a tectonic shift in polity or culture and a "phase imbalance shutdown" can ensue. Conversation seems suddenly overrated, and a systematic retreat from communal gatherings seems not only safe, but strangely wise.

I am there now... and it's perhaps just as well since I have nothing useful to presently offer "the grid" anyway. Oh, a new "start up" may result in productive outgoing energy in the future (none can know how soon), but that's a painstaking process that starts over from "square one" all over again. It's a long drive back out to the wilderness in the middle of the night, where you throw on the skis to traverse the miles of snow-blocked road, then don the wetsuit at the cabin so you can dive into the icy water and scrub debris from intake screens in the pitch black of 12 feet of water at 2 am. Then warming back up at the cabin before hiking to the powerhouse, where you start over from scratch getting this sucker back online again. Such is the labors of re-syncing the soul to one's surroundings after a "shut down."

Breaking Point

2011-01-29T15:52:00.001-08:00

The question is: How much can a man handle before he breaks? How much disappointment can he endure before, as a "defense mechanism," he numbs out and disengages? How hard and steady can the winds of pain blow before his trunk snaps and he's lying over on the forest floor?

So many wonderful things have been taken away in such a seemingly short amount of time. So much loss in quick succession. At such times I cling, white-knuckled, to those things which cannot be shaken or ripped away from my grasp. They are few - and they're all creedal. Though all else is violently yanked from me, rending my heart along with it; yet will I remember what cannot be taken away. It's all I have left to hold onto.

And yet, at the same time, I am very afraid...

The turnover we've experienced in church family has left us feeling like a foster child who, being being very near to or having actually connected with a set of parents, is told that "the system" is changing their family again. Just when the child is truly accepting the guidance of the father and the nurturing of the mother, a social worker, for reasons the child can't understand, says,"You're going to get new parents tomorrow."

"But I don't want 'new' parents!" the foster child exclaims. "I want these people. These ARE my parents! Why can't you see that?"

Nevertheless, the social worker, following some inexplicable protocol of "the system," maintains their composure, and with passionless certitude proclaims, "That's the way it's got to be." The organic and natural manner in which families are brought together is discarded. Procedure is king.

The coldness with which the families are changed out has the inevitable effect of extending it's icy chill into the child's soul. They numb a little more to the possibility of real connection. This process repeats itself over the years, with the defensive walls built up a little higher, and a little stronger each time. How many times must this play out until the foster child finds true familial intimacy too difficult? Who can say? But each familial "rotation" is, by no means, helping.

How much change, upheaval and disappointment can a man handle before the "breaking point" is reached? That is never really known until the break occurs. What does the "break" look like? That is distinct to the situation; but regarding the "family" analogy, the "break" takes the form of a closed off youth resigned not to expect close familial relationships in the future. The ability to connect is like a limb crushed in a car accident - the pain can be anesthetized, but the limb does not grow back. I don't know if I would ever reach such a "breaking point." It can be faithfully asserted, though, that if such a point does exist, surely each time I'm forced to "rotate" church families, I get a little closer to it.

Parting Shots

2011-01-19T09:28:00.000-08:00

It's always very unattractive when someone, leaving an organization or position, uses that opportunity to get their last "licks" in. For one reason or another, they are stepping down or passing the baton. In those moments when grace and class could really prevail, they instead discuss openly the frustrations that might have facilitated or motivated their departure. We've all seen it. The outgoing employee or leader inserts, in the midst of their last comments, observations about what they "just couldn't stand about this place." While the rest of us hang our heads in embarrassment for them, they leave the remaining dignity that they might have otherwise preserved tumbling around on the table like dice in a crapshoot.

I find that this practice is a violation of an unspoken "honor code." Not only does it dishonor the one that has been one's employer, but it also dishonors one's self. It suggests that this was a rotten place to seek vocational fulfillment and, at least until now, you lacked wisdom to detect it. It's a fundamental denial of your own abilities to perceive the landscape and anticipate the "potholes" that you might encounter. Listening to the final rant, we rightly wonder if you were the appropriate choice for this position in the first place. Your "parting shot" also dishonors those that will remain and labor to improve the organization or system you so venomously eschew.

Your "parting shot" dishonors those that hired you and expected your best efforts.
Your "parting shot" dishonors those that remain and seek to "enjoy the work of their hands."
Your "parting shot" dishonors you for shedding decorum and revealing your lack of poise.

When I witness this first hand, I typically just hang my head in shame; not on account of my own shame, but that of the one leaving. To observe someone shame themselves in this manner is an ugly thing to behold. I don't like to watch them shed their dignity in this way. Let them exit with grace and poise, and retain their honor even as they wisely (and quietly) move on from a position they should not maintain.

Thanksgiving Run

2010-11-30T10:49:00.000-08:00

The contents of a rich life consists of experiencing meaningful events. I've said it many times before: the title of my autobiography will be "Certificate of Participation." Being first. Winning. Achieving dominance in a given enterprise is not as important as having a wealth of experiences to draw from to comprise the "act of living." I've never really developed a strong streak of competitiveness. However, years ago I developed "adventure" as a personal value. Thus, new things to do and see holds great appeal; this includes achieving milestones that are never too late to add to one's catalog of meaningful moments.

Because fitness is a universal indicator of our ability to manage ourselves, I've desired a life characterized more by fitness than sloth because the disciplined life can yield greater blessings than the undisciplined existence. Bodily fitness can be achieved through a variety of means. Some use cycling, jogging, hiking, biking, swimming or martial arts. The avenues to fit a life are too numerous to comprehensively list here. Suffice it to say that an active body if better than an inactive one, regardless of the activity chosen with which to remain active. Nevertheless, since inactivity is often more easily achieved than activity, motivation is at a premium. One does not need motivation to do nothing. Motivation is needed to overcome one's propensity for sloth and to sufficiently exercise the body.

What, then, was the motivation to exercise regularly whether or not conditions or comforts cooperated? Simple: a specific goal written on a date.

By signing up for the YMCA Thanksgiving Day "Turkey Dash" well in advance (even paying money!), I had committed myself to a measurable goal on a specific date. Therefore, I had to run on a regular basis in progressive distances to make sure that the race day goal (5K) was completely doable. However, the achieving of the goal on Thanksgiving was not the greatest value. It was was whole experience of people out for this community event, with 2,000 other runners in the neighborhood. It was a rewarding experience, and I felt enriched for having participated. Singing up for a couple of these each year will keep me motivated to maintain a fit body the rest of the time. But the chief value in these is in being with so many people for a fun community event. Again, my "certificate of participation" will be the prize of a full life.

Abusive Power

2010-11-08T07:47:00.001-08:00

I yelled at my daughter the other day...
...because I could.

Why could I? Because she's the daughter, and I'm the father, and that gives me power. Is it wrong that I have that power? No. The benefits of parents having the authority to exercise their office are too numerous to list here. However, that same power that the authority bestows can be used destructively... and I did.

I apologized later, but the moment had been lost already. Did she forgive me for abusing power like that? Likely. She's that kind of person. But I'm left with the sick feeling in my stomach that knows such abuse is always there waiting to face. I wouldn't yell at an adult like that. Why would I raise my voice at my child that way? Because there's seemingly no immediate consequences for doing so. I can get away with it because my children have no recourse; except maybe to lost respect little by little for the pathetic specimen before them who lacks the self-control they will one day admire in someone else.

God help my children to grow up into better, more well adjusted people than can be accounted for from their interaction with me.

Reformation Week 2010

2010-10-26T07:42:00.001-07:00

Of all the holidays that enjoy a place in the Christian calendar, among the most understated must be the one packaged and prepared for believers to celebrate God's correcting providence when the Church has wandered into error. Indeed she has wandered from time to time, and as a loving Father and Good Shepherd, God in his wisdom has moved her to cast off fanciful inventions and harmful speculations, returning to faithful orthodoxy. Such was the case when, on October 31st, 1517 a young Augustinian monk in Wittenberg, Germany took the bold move to nail a list of topics for debate to the door of the town church. Each thesis (or point of debate) represented an area of conviction where the Church seemed in need of correction; needing to return to the plain teaching of Holy Scripture as it had been understood by more ancient church fathers. Devoutly catholic, Martin Luther's clear intent was not that the Church should experience rifts and divisions, but that she should reform, and return to faithful and orthodox doctrine and practice - as one spotless and holy "Bride."

But human nature being what it is, there were diverse and varied responses to this bold critique of the Roman Catholic church at the time. Within a century of its humble beginnings, the Protestant movement (those "protesting" Roman Catholic authority in various ways) saw a fracturing of the Church on continental Europe into factions that no only persist to this day, but have themselves splintered into innumerable subsections. The body of Christ has indeed experienced great trauma in the West. Nevertheless, this tragedy can, by no means, negate the necessity of setting aside deviations from ancient biblical orthodoxy that erode the Church's faithfulness to the Lord Jesus Christ. Inappropriate responses to the Reformation can be observed in how many seek to reinvent the church according to popular business models and entrepreneurial instincts. The Anglican Church took the wise path of simply casting off Roman inventions that were not defensible from Scripture or supported by Church Fathers in the first millennium, but saw no need to "throw the baby out with the bathwater." Nevertheless, difficult as it may seem; painful as it may prove; the Church must reform when necessary, and remain thankful to God for leading her to do so.

Thus Reformation Day is, (1) a commemoration of God's providence in reforming the Church at a critical moment in history, (2) a celebration of the God who reforms us - not leaving us to languish in error, and (3) an anticipation that he will faithfully continue this work until the return of Jesus Christ. Paul assures the Philippian church, "For I am sure of this very thing, that the one who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus" (Phil 1:6). Reformation Day offers a superb opportunity to (1) look back at what God has graciously done, (2) look around at how he shows grace to us now, and (3) look forward at his grace will sustain and preserve us in the future - as is the case with all other celebrations such as Christmas, Easter, Birthdays, Anniversaries, etc.

For this reason, we rightly take this week leading up to Reformation Day (October 31st) as a time to reflect on our own need for semper reformanda ("always reforming"). What erroneous assumptions regarding God and his work have I picked up over time that need correcting? How do I contribute to the Church's faithfulness to time-honored and biblical truth? Are my instincts that she should reform intact rather than split further asunder?

In addition to these points of meditation, it is also appropriate to make of this a joyous and festive occasion that celebrates God's reforming work in us. Blowout parties and fun-filled gatherings should mark the Church at this time. Mine certainly is going to party over it. I recommend that yours does too.

Baseball Gloves and Cobwebs

2010-10-24T16:19:00.001-07:00

I recently had an episode that was very, very humbling as a father. Though there were no witnesses, it was still one of the most embarrassing moments in my recent history. I may have been the only one to perceive it at the time, still I swore I heard a collective sigh escape from even the surrounding furniture in the room. Perhaps it was just as well that no one was around to offer absolution; no one to dilute the sense of secret shame.

The exchange started out innocent enough. I turned to my youngest son and asked if he would like to go outside and play catch. It had been some time since I had thrown the baseball with him, and the spontaneously open afternoon before me left ample time to resurrect that practice (I couldn't recall the last time we had played catch). He said that he would like to throw the baseball with me, but then added that he didn't know where his glove was.

Now at this point it's important to remember how normative it is for young boys to sleep with their baseball gloves under their pillow. Such vital equipment is practically an extension of their body. You might sooner ask a policeman where they have misplaced their firearm than ask a little boy where their sports gear has disappeared to. Nevertheless, the eleven year old male in front of me didn't know where his glove was, and as a result I began to shrink inside.

"Go check in your room," I commanded. "It's got to be in there." To this he responded by immediately excavating through his bedroom rubble. After three to five minutes he emerged empty-handed. This was getting less pleasing by the moment. The next phase was obviously to check in the garage. I couldn't believe I was directing him to search for his baseball glove in the garage, but at this point I was determined that this would end with us play catch if I had to buy him a new one.

Dutifully, he ventured into the wilderness of our stored belongings to seek out the wayward mitt. I could hear my son rummaging through boxes and tools, around bicycles, rakes and shelves. He came back with something in his hands, presented it to me and asked, "Is this it?" To my horror he held in his little palms an unused baseball glove. Still retaining its original rigidity, the basket was even stuck spread open. I looked down and saw that the palm of the glove had collected cobwebs.

I swear I am NOT making this up. COBWEBS!

To say that I took the image of this personally is an exercise in understatement. Instead of having a baseball glove worn and weathered from frequent use playing catch with his brother or his father, my son had a glove filled with cobwebs languishing out in the garage. My paternal instincts had been subjected to a "pass/fail test" and come up short. It was painful.

Walking outside, I grasped the baseball intensely, feeling its stitches dig into my palm. "OK, let's go play catch," I whimsically added, trying to shrug off my shame.

"I'm not sure I know how," he sheepishly countered. Really kid. Do you have to twist the knife in my heart THAT much?

"We'll figure it out," I assured him. We started pretty close, tossing the ball lightly. Slowly we bravely moved away from each other so that the throws could become more powerful and the catches more difficult. With each subsequent catch and throw he seemed to grow in stature and pride. Though it was a delight to witness him exult in the new skills developed with his father, it did not absolve me from the guilt of time lost up until now. The image of a baseball mitt covered in cobwebs is burned into my brain. Not only did that event leave me with a resolve to never again be confronted with that type of neglect, but perhaps my humiliating moment, confessed here, will be beneficially instructive to some other father that has just gotten too damn busy. By God's grace and with his help, we will keep the cobwebs out of the baseball gloves.

Deadly Sins: Pride

2010-10-05T07:47:00.000-07:00

Among the oldest and most deadly of sins (considered by some to be the sin from which all others spring) is destructive pride. It is the attitude of superiority that renders the proud quite above all influence from outside sources. I've had the unfortunate opportunity to watch some lives simply implode because pride kept them from ever thinking that self-evaluation was appropriate, thus submitting themselves to healthy wisdom. Even when confronted with pending catastrophe, the proud will maintain that all others have unreasonably collaborated on their doom. They will debate, and haggle and negotiate the terms of their situation; but never once will they entertain the notion of submitting to wisdom regarding their specific situation.

Having witnessed the proud follow their foolish path, and even having experienced it myself before, is what led me to once codify:

Pride is the path of destruction.
Pride leads to defiance.
Defiance leads to rebellion.
Rebellion leads to blindness and death.

The wide swath of debris left behind as stubborn hubris traverses through a household is a wonder of nature. Not all people deserve the relational, financial or emotional (or sometimes even physical) carnage wrought upon them; but sometimes one "sows wheat and reaps a harvest of it." Their life is a fitting lesson to the rest of us that must learn the key principles they have collided with. It's tragic, but instructive.

I dare not develop the pride that thinks myself above learning such lessons or susceptible to such folly. The correct response is not to gloat and think, "You may have fallen into such folly, but I would not." Instead the appropriate response to think, "But for God's grace, I too could welcome such calamity upon myself as well." The antidote to destructive pride is submission to the wise - the wise that offer wisdom in the Church, from the position of faith. If the fear of the Lord is indeed the beginning of wisdom, then the folly the leads to self-destruction must have started with something else - with no humble "fear of the Lord" rendering one teachable.

Why I Torture my Kids

2010-09-16T13:43:00.000-07:00

My kids are not having a fun childhood.

I can only image how they must view their home experience in light of all their friends whose parents are much easier on them. Normal households probably don't require as much reading, as much work, as much discipline and as much thinking as ours does. Growing up in our house is likely not the pleasing experience that they hear about at school or from peers in other places. In my more reflective moments, I feel sorry for them.

My poor children... It seems their dad is never satisfied with how much they have read, how clean their room is, how fast they're growing up or how mature they act in public. I come home everyday and ask "What are you reading?" in a transparent attempt to make them 'bloom' sooner than I did. As the "patron saint of late bloomers," I know first hand the challenges accrued by an atrophied instinct to learn. There are so many ways in which I wish for my children a better path of development than I stumbled through. For this reason, I likely have an obsession with them learning at the front end, many lessons that I required life-pain to learn by now. It's unfair and, frankly, kinda mean.

However, as I examine the trajectory of culture, and the world as it was when I was their age, there appears fewer ambient voices calling for them to be strong people of character than there were when I was young. The moral compasses wielded by school teachers when I was in high school are virtually absent from my kids' experience. Television has degenerated as well, with shows extolling virtue and wisdom airing mainly during rerun marathons. It seems that parents have less help from the surrounding culture to grow children into responsible, strong and faithful adults than they did just a generation ago. This does not make it impossible to parent in today's American society, it just seems that to raise children as well as parents of yesteryear did, one must simply work harder than they did.

Working harder (and smarter) as a parent translates into being even more engaged in the church than parents a generation ago felt was necessary; to performing spiritual leadership in the home more than our parents did; to make the home more of a classroom; to being more attuned to children's needs and developmental stages; to taking even more advantage of the teachable moments to connect with kids around important principles. It simply requires greater commitment, competence and concentration from parents today to be as effective at developing the people in their home than was required of parents generations ago when the culture was more helpful. Some acknowledge this and retreat into the Christian subculture, avoiding as much contact with the outside world as possible. Our philosophy has, instead, been to simply take it to the next level so our children can "take the culture by storm."

Our decision has not been easy on our children though. They'd have likely had an easier existence had my wife and I simply resigned ourselves to developing average offspring. The temptation to revert to that is ever present. However, we've received reports that our philosophy is yielding promising results. Others that provide a positive report about our children only encourages us that all this hard work is having a positive effect. My poor children; this does not help them.

When I wake them up at 5:30 am twice a week for "morning PT" (physical training), they feel the full brunt of this philosophy. When we run a mile and a half on the dark, quiet streets I use that opportunity to share thoughts and principles of life with them. It's a special time of influence with them to offer fatherly insights while we struggle and sweat together. Moments like this are more difficult than most "reasonable" fathers might put their kids through; but we're not trying to produce children like most are. We are attempting to develop these children into adults that will be decidedly unlike most - with greater endurance, leadership instincts, character, wisdom and faith than their peers. Such times must seem like torture to my poor children. The average teenager would escape into an iPod to weather such moments of intensive interaction. However, we are not attempting to produce average teenagers either.

My poor children... I 'torture' them by assigning more reading than their school does. I 'torture' them by implementing strange family traditions that differ from the surrounding culture. I 'torture' them by giving all those 'pep talks' while running in the morning. I 'torture' them by helping them develop goals and aspirations that will require more work and excellence from them than perhaps they realize. I 'torture' them making them learn more, get stronger, think longer and mature faster than they would choose on their own.

My children are not having a fun childhood. They have a father that thinks they can grow up to be amazing people, and is working toward that end. I hope they one day make enough money to afford all the therapy. But if they don't need the therapy, hopefully they look back and think that while the childhood experience wasn't fun all the time... it was good.

Symbols Mean Things

2010-09-13T06:49:00.000-07:00

When worshiping in symbol "rich" service, it behooves the worshiper to look around and take stock of the various images and objects surrounding them designed to inform and influence the worship event. Particularly in a liturgical setting, one should not take the various symbols for granted; on the contrary, it falls to the parishioner to learn of their meaning and have that lesson aid the religious experience. One such symbol was observed regularly some time ago when worshiping at a church where a local Bishop was also the church Rector. Thus, each Sunday saw that Bishop processing into the assembly at the beginning of the service, and then back out again at the conclusion.

Those that attend such a type of church do not need to be reminded of the impressive raiment donned by Bishops during the service. The robe, the mitre and the Shepherd's staff all combine to project the simultaneous images of authority and responsibility. However, if you don't fully know what you're looking at, as has been my case during the past year, they can appear "merely" impressive, not appreciating the meaning of the symbols. Recently, however, I developed a greater appreciation for at least one of those symbols: the Shepherd's crook.

In an episcopal church structure, Bishops are the "shepherds" that delegate some of the pastor duties to the local rector (pastor). Nonetheless, regardless of how much local pastors perform some of the "pastoring," the Bishop apparently knows that responsibility for the "shepherding" falls to him. This was recently demonstrated to me in a powerful way when our church underwent an episode that held the potential to devolve into a tumultuous affair. However, in typical "shepherd" fashion, the Bishop came to offer personal assurance that all would be fine, that pastoral care goes on uninterrupted, and that the Lord is our Shepherd - therefore, we lack nothing (Psalm 23).

Symbols mean things. In this case, the symbol of a Bishop processing into a church service with the shepherd's staff reflects the reality of his responsibility, his responsiveness and the "shepherding" from the Lord offered by his office. I love that symbol. It reminds me that "the Lord is my Shepherd," and because of how the Lord sends us Bishops for pastoral care... "I lack nothing."

The Wounded make Good Warnings

2010-09-03T05:09:00.000-07:00

We've all seen it on screen. Some may have even witnessed it first hand. Somehow the group of soldiers suspects a minefield is ahead, and express a collective hesitance and caution. Nevertheless, one among them (sometimes it's the "gung ho" leader) steps out boldly, showing no fear.

What follows is a flash of light...
the ear-splitting sound of the explosion...
the aerosol musk of vaporized flesh and blood...
the unnatural screaming...
and the mangled remains of a formerly proud comrade splayed out on the ground.

Some rush to aid the wounded soldier (if he's still alive). Some click their tongues and say, "We told you to watch out for mines." All see it as confirmation of the dangers that abound. Regardless of whether the wounded man survives, the enemy has effectively taken him out. If he survives, he will no longer be part of the mission. He'll be whisked away for emergency medical attention. Hopefully, he'll adapt well to civilian life, but he won't be back to the mission he was so committed to. Some wounds don't heal. Legs don't grow back. No prosthetic yet invented can reinstate a soldier whose body was shattered by a careless moment.

I am speaking, of course, regarding leaders in The Church.

The story is far, far too frequent. He knows the dangers. He's heard the warnings over and over again. He may have even witnessed a comrade "step on a mine" before, and the horrific carnage that ensued in the man's professional and personal life. Nevertheless, in a moment of dropping his guard down, off he trots out into a suspicious "field" without regard for the warning signs.

BOOM!!!!!

...and in a flash his career as a minister is over. The respect of his peers is vaporized. The trust of his wife and children is gone. His influence in the community vanishes. His credentials are empty. His degrees meaningless. His income cut off. His purpose jettisoned (for the foreseeable future). Those that loved him aren't certain whether to pity him for his weakness or hate him for his betrayal. They'll feel both strongly for quite a while. If he's a repentant Christian, just about the only thing you can say is going for him is that he'll go to Heaven when he dies.

Such is the plight of the Christian minister that succumbs to moral failure while leading in the Church - especially if that "failure" involves infidelity to his wife. The loyalty of the minister to his spouse is a picture of the loyalty of Christ to HIS "Bride" (The Church). If he punts his loyalty to her for a few moments of deceitful ecstasy, people who discover it understandably wonder how faithful they can expect God to be to them. "After all," they reason to themselves, "Where was God here? How could he let this happen?" Some may have their faith considerably shaken by the revelation that their minister has betrayed his spouse and them. The spiritually resilient, at best, will emerge from their pain with a new perspective on how much more faithful God is than man.

As for that once confident "soldier" that now has to adapt to civilian life... Hopefully the once effective minister will be able to make an adequate living selling used cars somewhere in the panhandle. As a Christian, he needs to humbly integrate into a new church somewhere far away, and take private satisfaction in being given the honor of cleaning the bathrooms. All sins are forgivable, but not all sins are reversible. When he submits to a new leader (that also knows his background), forgiveness will take the form of his opportunity to come to the rail, commune with Christ and His body, serving humbly when and where he is directed; but no more leading the charge. After having “blown himself apart” with careless presumption, he should not seek to lead anyone anywhere - and none should follow him.

I've now seen this scenario play out a couple of times with men that I have known. Hopefully, their wounds make for good warnings to me. Far from being the most exemplary "soldier," I've veered too close to the minefield before - spared by a caring buddy that yanked me back and shouted, "What the F@#% is the matter with you?! You wanna blown your legs off?! Pay attention, A**HOLE!!!" How embarrassing to know that among the two possible modes (1. vigilant and 2. careless), I've been one before because I wasn't being the other.

Nevertheless, the wounded make good warnings - for me and for all men.

BOOM!!!! There's goes our buddy. The guys trained in first aid try to help... But there's no getting around it - he's out of the game. We'll keep patrolling our area, watching our corners, knowing that HQ will send another one at some point - but he's done. Hope it works out for him "stateside." We'll remember him for a while... that is until be build new memories with the next leader we get. Everybody's on their guard now. We all walk lightly. Tex tells me that Mac can "smell" a minefield. He's got "point" tonight. We pay attention to him... close attention to him. The wounded make good warnings. Maybe that's a way to look at it. Sucks that Lt. Smith lost both legs like that, but maybe eight or nine of us won't lose ours because we saw it happen.

Digging into History

2010-08-16T12:14:00.000-07:00

Sunday was my first opportunity to participate in an archaeological excavation. It's one thing to study and read about the material remains left behind by cultures of the past, but in order to be a good archaeologist one has to get out of the library at some point. The net effect was a magical connection with the process that is earned only by digging, sweating and laboring. There is a certain "electricity" that comes with a tactile engagement with the material one studies. Scraping the dirt or holding a piece of glass extracted from the ground builds a sense of "touching history." We're physical beings, and we like to physically interact with the things that fascinate us. For this reason, I could not wait to go to the Bernardo Plantation site, grab a trowel, kneel down and dig into history.

The dig was conducted for both days of last weekend, but I was only able to be present for one of them. Nevertheless, in that one hot August Sunday I most certainly "caught the bug" - as though I hadn't already. No significant finds were extracted from the pit I was working in, and thus invited an apology from the site manager. "I'm sorry your first time out did not produce anything spectacular," was her sympathetic offering. Was she not aware how elated I was to merely be present at the dig site?! What a privilege I found it to actually kneel down and dig our pit to the necessary depth regardless of the finds? I understand the scientific process enough to know that it was helpful to the excavation that our unit was able to identify where things were not. Knowing that no artifacts and structures were evident in our grid helps the site supervisor to better triangulate where things are. Like playing a game of "Battleship," a 'miss' helps the player know better where the ships are, increasing the chances of a 'hit' later on. No 'pegs,' or digging is wasted.

But the site supervisor, well meaning though she might have been, had no idea the number of dreams (since childhood!) that were being fulfilled in the midst of the heat exhaustion, sore muscles and dust. More digging is expected at this site later in the fall. I plan to be there again as much as I can be. Do they all need to know how fulfilled I am to be there? Probably not. I'll just keep it to myself that digging into history in the manner 'feels' like touching destiny in some way (I know that sounds corny, and I don't care).

The House Seems Quiet

2010-08-13T14:07:00.000-07:00

I've joke, every year when my kids head off to the grandparents' house for a month, that I begin to miss them about the end of the third week. Well, we're just about there and it's starting to set in. I'm beginning to notice how quiet the house is at night, in the morning and on the weekend. Don't get me wrong... I love my children very much and want them around me as often as possible. I am, however, also enamored with my wife.

Because we had been married such a short time when our children began to arrive, we have not experienced a great deal of that existence that many couple have; that being, freedom to enjoy one another unimpeded by parenting responsibilities. Admittedly, some couple elect to live out this state for too long, later rearing children at an age wherein they're too tired to keep up with them. Other couples live this arrangement far longer than they want to, desiring to have children sooner than they are able. In our case, we may have "attempted" to have our children later, but were unwilling to exercise the only method of birth control proven to have a 100% success rate (i.e. abstinence). Thus it can be argued that we possibly weren't that committed to waiting.

Nevertheless, when we discovered my wife was pregnant with our first child we knew two things: (1) that we were thrilled beyond measure, and (2) we were no longer alone. Thus, ever since we've kept on the lookout for opportunities to be alone for those little breaks here and there. The kids' summer vacation provides just such a break.

Having said that, I am indeed starting to miss the sounds of the boys sparring, my daughter's wit, the endless laughter and the joyful commotion. I enjoy being a father, and that aspect of me goes unexpressed when they're away. My wife and I have one more week to enjoy our time alone in the house, but by next weekend I'll have my nose pressed up against the glass as the kids get off the plane.

The Cost of Convictions

2010-08-12T15:00:00.001-07:00

Let's face it. Christians in the United States are NOT suffering for their faith in comparison to the plight of the faithful in other countries abroad. Voice of the Martyrs catalogs various regions of the world in which believers truly suffer for maintaining exclusive loyalty to Jesus Christ. So it would be unseemly to engage in the laughable exercise of equating the challenges to a believer's confession in America today to the slaughtering of Christians in the Roman Colosseum. Nevertheless, even the believer of the present day, that appreciates any sense of continuity with devout followers of old, has their mind quite made up about the next potential test coming around the corner. They say to themselves, "This test of my loyalty to the Lord is far more benign than others have endured before. How much less understandable would be my compromise now than any they were tempted with back then?"

Nevertheless, although the cost for some convictions today nowhere near meet the "apples and apples" comparison to persecuted Christians elsewhere in the globe or in history, maintaining firm resolve on some issues may very well cost something at some point in the present society. I'm speaking of those social or vocational contacts that expect a level of relativism unachievable for the committed believer in Jesus Christ. It is a lamentable reality that simply being polite, agreeable, gracious and humble often is not enough for those nearby that will not abide a differing opinion. Regardless of how much the Christian has attempted to "live at peace with everyone" (Rom 12:18), their mere stopping at "tolerance" cannot be tolerated. Either they will shed their convictions and fully endorse the deviants around them, or the cost of their convictions will become evident.

What is it about the present headlines in California that raises the ire of so many, particularly the volume of objecting rants from religious circles? Some may ask, "What's the big deal? How does this affect you? Why can't you just let others be?"

The saddened Christian hangs their head in solemn grief over these questions and mutters under their breath, "But I didn't seek you out to offend. You backed me into a corner." There may be all manner of ways the devout attempt to show grace and be a good neighbor, but what one cannot ask them to do is deny their faith. "But I'm not asking them to deny their faith," the advocate of gay marriage will counter, "just to accept my right to live with full societal endorsement as they do in heterosexual marriage." And therein lies the problem; to officially declare, by means of a marriage license, the moral equivalence between heterosexual marriage and homosexual unions is to make the same societal declaration that no god exists that has prescribed these moral norms in the first place. In essence, it is to make law a 'functional atheism' that denies the right of any god (of any type) to dictate morality to which I must conform. It's right because I feel it - goes the logic. While this philosophy has been tolerated by the law up until now, this issue requires the endorsement of the law. Tolerance is simply not enough.

Thus the Christian, who formerly was content to simply be neighborly and agreeable, is left with an impasse. They want to avoid offending those with whom they have developed friendly or professional relationships, but they cannot "retreat" any further. With backs painfully pressed against the wall they declare, "I'm so sorry, but I simply cannot deny the God who has made things as they are. And to deny that God has made the morality upon which society is built is to deny the God who made the morality - for no such 'god' (that will invent new moralities to suit you) exists." So fundamental is this to basic theism that for government to endorse the moral equivalence of homosexuality with a marriage license is for that same government to officially deny God's existence and right to dictate moral norms. To those that find the religious community's objections so puzzling, you'll forgive us if we're not all prepared to declare our collective atheism just yet.

What's more? Endorsement of moral equivalence between GLBT and straight couples is to do away with redemption. For what need of we for redemption if there is no standard from which we have deviated? Furthermore, redemption is rendered meaningless by voiding any Divine power to declare norms which I might be guilty of violating. He cannot declare me redeemed who has no power to first declare me lost. Thus the issue of 'licensing' moral equivalence in marriage is to attempt undercutting the foundations of faith and society that have been in place for millennia. The Christian has stepped politely back for many an issue, but they are now alarmingly brushing against the precipice and know they cannot step back any further.

Therefore, the follower of the God that exists (and there is no other) knows that they must offer the "push back" of vocal objection, also knowing that this slight contrary gesture may cost them something valuable. It will not cost them health, property or their very lives, as occurs in other places and times. It may, however, cost them that opportunity for vocational promotion or the advance of a growing friendship. Some pain, though small in the grand context of history, will nevertheless be felt. There is, indeed, a cost for convictions at some time and in some places. Certainly the "martyrdom complex" has produced many a jerky contrarian, but at some point even the most peace-making Christian will have to say, "I'm sorry. I can't go there. It would deny too much of what I know to be true." For this they know a cost is in store, but they meditate on faithful believers of old and think, "By comparison, this isn't costing me all that much."

To Build or Not to Build a Mosque

2010-08-10T07:03:00.000-07:00

The prospect of having a mosque built so closely to "ground zero," the site of the World Trade Center collapse, has many up in arms regarding the apparent Muslim 'gall' of this move. Seemingly a blatant initiative to declare victory over taking that ground, the mosque's nearest spire will no doubt symbolize an Islamic version of the raising of the flag on Mount Suribachi after the Battle of Iwo Jima. No greater equivalent of "In your face!" could be accomplished, comparable in offense to the United States building a mega-church within the former palace complex of Saddam Hussein in Baghdad. No plausible explanation can be advanced that will convince mourners of 9/11 victims to accept this new development without insult. Far from 'building bridges,' the new mosque development is building a symbol of victory and conquest.

Nevertheless, no credible objection can be advanced that will prohibit the building of the mosque either. That a significant measure of the population is aghast at the decision to allow it cannot add up to legal justification for stopping it. The religious freedom enjoyed in the United States cannot be selectively applied (though many will claim that it currently is anyway). Imagine, however, a city counsel publicly denying the building of a synagogue or church simply because enough outrage in the community could be conjured by those not sharing the faith represented by it. Vocal 'contrarians' can be found to oppose any worthy cause as well as unworthy ones. The offended rabble are abundant and ever at the ready when needed. Thus the Constitution rightly restricts the amount of real power the many can exercise against the few. To those that suggest this is a misapplication of the First Amendment, can they not imagine a brood of noisy Congregationalists 'derailing' attempts to build a new Anglican church in the late 18th century?

According to the Constitution, that the building of a new mosque in the shadow of 'ground zero' can be seen as no less than an Islamic war victory cannot be of any legal consequence. Instead, the protections afforded the Muslim under the Constitution are the same for us all - Christian, Jew, etc. How quickly people forget that the proverbial 'pendulum' swings both ways. While I may hope that Christians would have better 'taste' than to build a cathedral on the rubble of the former Bathist headquarters in Iraq, that Baghdad's city planners allowed it would certainly be evidence that they are entering the 21st century with the West.

It is the nature of American civil religion that we have various factions of fervent belief all seeking to convert one another, yet leaving that mission out of the legal process. Church historians may critique this paradigm as having launched the erosion of Christianity in the West, but acknowledge some of its benefits too. In the meantime, an 'a-religious' legal system is the 'bed' we have made, now we have to kneel and pray next to it, before we lie in it.

Marking the Date

2010-08-07T06:37:00.000-07:00

Seventeen years ago today, I uttered vows of loyalty to my wife that no other earthly entity has ever received, or will ever receive from me. Ever since then the will to demonstrate loyal love to this woman has attached itself to the most basic of human dignities. Such that, in the event I abandon those vows, I will have also set aside among the most primal aspects of what it means to be a man. We rightly hold suspect the word of one that has strayed from the covenant so elementally wrought upon their soul. On the contrary, during at least one conference former college football coach Bill McCartney has quipped, "If you want to know a man's worth, look at his wife's face. Everything he has investing in or withheld from her will be reflected in her countenance" (he speaks credibly from experience).

My experience has been that the beauty of the relationship is heavily reliant on the female influence. That which is enjoyable, pleasing and fulfilling of the human desires for peace, comfort and belonging will emanate from the powers she wields in the home. However, the strength of the relationship seems heavily reliant on him. Not to suggest that women are somehow flaky in comparison, but the fortitude of a marriage interweaves with the manly force of will that makes a good husband stare in the mirror and wonder if a "good man" is looking back at him. It is no mystery that a "good man" quantifies his manliness, in no small part, by the quality of his relationships.

For this reason, many wives lack an understanding of how much they have been entrusted with their husband's ego. Their is simply no displeasure so painful as any she may express in him. In like manner, he is never so affirmed as when she expressed pride in him. Thus a "good man" strives ever onward toward becoming the man she deserves, and she declares his achievements to him. His strength is also made manifest in her glory as well. Has he been a source of energy to her, or merely an outlet for energy she expends? A "good man" revels in the achievements of his wife, and finds in her happiness motivations for native masculinity.

They are opposites...

...and the manner that these compliment one another hearkens back to a primordial 'Garden' in which all was right with the world. Creation functioned in blissful order, enjoying unhindered access to the Creator. No relationship is perfect, but good ones echo a time in which there once was one; a time in which the differences were not causes for contention, but instead causes for communion.

For seventeen years now I have been bound to a "good woman" (I leave it to her to define it), and in marking the date I reflect on the benefits of that bond. They are far too numerous to delineate here, but they are tangible nonetheless. Suffice it to say that in my most cynical moments, when humanity seems in dire straits and a process of de-evolution appears to grip society, my wife gives me hope that such specimens were still being made at this time in history. Would that all potential suitors find a "good woman" as I have, but they won't find as good a woman as I did on this date, in the year of our Lord, 1993.

Why NOT to Freak Out

2010-08-05T07:04:00.000-07:00

Current news headlines related to the accelerating erosion of American society can leave many that have maintained a healthy tension between orthodox Christianity and national patriotism with a sense of apocalyptic angst. Whether it is the political "tribalism" that acknowledges race as a governing value, the pagan "messianism" that looks to godless public servants for "salvation" or the cultural atheism that seeks to cast off all vestiges of Divine norms, the cause for alarm appears to grow. Some see in these developments evidence that the world is close to its end, yet this supposes that the plight of America is the plight of the world as well. Anthropologists refer to this as "ethnocentrism:" the belief that (quite literally) the world revolves around one's own culture. Most preaching concerning the "end times" is guilty of this. My own culture is going to hell so that must mean that Armageddon is scheduled for next Tuesday at 2:43 pm Pacific Standard Time, so goes the logic. The temptation is great to run screaming for the hills when the lawless enemies of God prevail in numerous levels of civil authority.

But what is it, really, that one fears that is inducing the panicked stampede for the bunker?

Is it that some are seeking to change the definition of marriage? Don't despair. They cannot. That some may declare (loudly even) that the moon has turned to cheese and the Earth has flattened out (again!) does not make it so. Is the fear that the uninformed deviant will be in a teaching position? Teach your children correctly. Is the fear that the deviant will imperil themselves with their folly? The foolish will always be among us. This does not threaten the wise.

Marriage is, at its core, three things:

1. Religiously - it is a sacred union between one man and one woman brought together by God to functionally perpetuate humankind and to theologically reflect his characteristic loyal love (clergy are historically sought to officiate this).

2. Anthropologically - it is a communal, familial and cultural acknowledgment of the union brought about under purpose #1.

3. Civilly - it is a legal recognition of the union enacted first under purpose #1 or (for the religiously diverse society) under purpose #2.

These 'purposes' for marriage are unchangeable. They have always been true since the creation of humankind. Occurring in order of priority and weight, each 'purpose' in the list is subservient to those above it. Thus if one declares themselves married in a manner that does not conform to these in their succession, they have not changed reality simply by voicing their folly. They simply are not married. They have, in fact, changed nothing. It is no more accurate for a homosexual couple (regardless of the legal document they secure) to say they are married than for a heterosexual couple to say so that have never sought ecclesiastic or legal endorsement either. Panic and despair is not warranted, just empathetic grief for those that will destroy themselves thinking that making a thing legal also makes it so. How is it that a country that has murdered millions of infants since 1973, declaring a wide swath of society less human because of their stage in utero, is SUDDENLY falling apart because of one evil judge? How can one justify so promptly freaking out when such cultural decline clearly does not happen over night? Faithful Christians have reason to keep their cool.

But this is tied to something larger... Christians are to maintain a tension between contributing to a healthy present society and remembering that the Church has weathered the rise and fall of many societies before. As Christ's Body, and tasked with spreading the Gospel until all the world kneels in submission to Christ, the Church continues uninterrupted through the ascension and destruction of many of history's most promising cultures. On the one hand, it's possible that (by God's grace) the Church in America might experience a resurgence of orthodox faithfulness and effective influence in leading souls to submit to Christ, thus saving America from galloping fatally over the precipice. On the other hand, it's also possible that (with historical precedent) the Church of America is eventually represented by a faithful remnant that weathered the 'storm' of it's own cultural collapse, while God's grace seemingly facilitated the triumph of the Church elsewhere. In either case, the Church prevails and the "gates of hell shall not prevail against it" (cf. Matt 16:18).

Why should the faithful not 'freak out' over the happenings in American culture now? Because regardless of how lamentable this society's collapse may be, it cannot hinder the forward march of the Church. Shall the glacier despair that weeds have sprouted up in front of it? No. Christians must keep their wits about them, or risk forfeiting opportunities to preserve what and who they can for as long as they have to do it.

Wisdom plays "Hard to Get"

2010-08-04T08:11:00.000-07:00

The wisdom literature of the Bible pictures "Wisdom" as being like a virtuous, yet attractive woman that any red-blooded male should pursue with reckless abandon. She simultaneously both calls out in the street so as to be found and remains hard to find among a thousand. All at once she's the picture of every desire and yet stands in stark contrast to the "easy" slut. She speaks truth that convicts the conscience, yet clearly differs from the contentious nag. She's feminine, but not sultry; romantic, but not trashy; dignified, but not snobby; knowledgable, but not a "know-it-all;" sophisticated, but not "stuck up;" relatable, but not simple; devout, but not judgmental.

Wisdom is the ideal "woman" to pursue above all others.

Yet she is a mysterious and demanding maiden/matriarch. When asked for a date, she may turn down the first, second or even third attempts, yet seems eager to reward the determined "suitor." Casual "come-ons" will be turned down flat, but even the slightest interest shown in sincerity finds an enthusiastic dinner date. Wisdom is tough to figure out. She doesn't conform to most formulas men try to construct. The buttons we push that seemingly work for "wooing" her today may be met with a cold shoulder tomorrow. She's a tough nut to crack.

For this reason, many in our society often abandon the pursuit. Wisdom may stand on the street corner and rightly declare herself the only woman worth your time, but most still choose to wander away dejected because they couldn't figure her out. Saddened that they give up so easily, she entreats, "I'm not difficult... just more complex than the 'Barbie Dolls' you've been dating up to now." Nevertheless, for many, courting a woman of this quality, this renown, this beautiful, this articulate, this industrious, this virtuous and this devout is just too hard for them. They settle for something less, convincing themselves over time that they're happy with what they got.

All around me I see evidence that Wisdom has been bypassed. In political circles, the insights of the country's Founders is ignored in favor of present popular feelings. In relational circles, timeless principles of marriage are ignored in favor of fleeting individual desires. In religious circles, sound principles regarding life's diverse nuances are eclipsed by a simplistic list of arbitrary rules. Those who cannot tell the difference between the negative of 'situational ethics' and the positive of 'firm ethics applied according to the situation' reveal that "Wisdom" was just too intimidating to ask to the prom.

In our own home, people ask what 'method' we have employed in rearing our children. At this point in their life, our children's behavior is pleasing enough that this question arises frequently (Yes, we know this could change anytime; but up to now, they're pretty descent people). It's an awkward question to answer though, because we have never employed a 'system.' Classes for "Love and Logic," "Basic Youth Conflicts" or "Growing Kid's God's Way" never had any appeal to us. Instead, upon learning our first child was fast approaching, we prayed for wisdom; that 'she' would help us observe our children closely, interpret their needs and apply ourselves accordingly; that 'she' would grant us insight regarding those moments with our kids that the other 'systems' will never address or even think to teach about; that 'she' would remain in our home and perform her work shaping my wife and I as she supervised our kids' development. We courted "Wisdom" instead of dating lesser "tarts" of rules, lists and behavioral 'laws' not explicitly given by Divine revelation.

For Wisdom never conflicts with God's law given in Holy Scripture since she is sent from God to give life and rescue from folly. Wisdom knows God's Word on a matter, yet assists in the moment when the application of that Word is not otherwise obvious. Wisdom stands beside the one of innocent ears, bristling at the profanity emitting from the conversation companion and whispers in the ear, "Listen to what they're saying - not just how they're saying it." Wisdom leans in and assures, "There's much to enjoy that is not sin. Consider enjoying more the people you know than the rules you invent." Wisdom is attractive and beautiful, sending tingles down the spine as she utters softly in the ear the secrets of sound judgment. Her words hone one's skills and make the hands bear good fruit. Her influence brings prosperity instead of destruction, dignity instead of debasement, honor instead of shame, life instead of death.

Though it may seem like Wisdom plays "hard to get," she is nonetheless the only 'woman' fully worthy of a man's passion (she is, by far, the finest 'matchmaker' for young people as well as a wife's best friend). Wisdom is clothed in God's glory, perfumed by God's grace, groomed by God's perfection, speaking insights from God's Word. She is none other than the Spirit of God remaining the close companion every young person should be looking as their "first love."

The Right Religion

2010-07-26T14:01:00.000-07:00

Evaluating our religious trappings and expressions can be a precarious process that threatens to, in typical vampire fashion, suck the lifeblood out of our meaningful worship moments and gatherings. All the same, evaluation is so vitally necessary precisely because deviating from good practice will forever remain easily instinctive. While I have already broached the subject of praxi fide before, some of that warrants repeating here. Belief and practice are inextricably linked, and both communal and personal expressions of them are wrapped up in what can best be summarized as "religion." I get so tired of the foolish statement often uttered by well-intentioned evangelists, "It's not a religion. It's a relationship." Imagine attempting to apply that type of false dichotomy to marriage, suggesting that a healthy relationship is possible without ANY outward expressions of that relationship manifested in the 'rituals' of quality time, giving gifts, physical touching, words of affirmation or acts of service (borrowing from Gary Chapman's The 5 Love Languages). It's not a choice between a relationship or expressions of relating. It's relating through expressions of a healthy relationship. So it is with our most important relationship - our relationship with God; and practicing a right religion will be symptomatic of a healthy relationship with him.

"Religion" can be defined as: the service and worship of the divine or supernatural through a system of attitudes, beliefs, and practices maintained within a given culture or community. Such a definition is helpful, but leaves us with the notion that if there is indeed a 'received' system "maintained within a given culture of community," it would not only be necessary to identify the various spectra of communal and personal expressions of that "system," but also ways of deviating from that system as well. Thus, in evaluating observable religious practice, two axis can be offered to form a "grid" for 'plotting' religion in relation to a community or culture. A horizontal axis would be the 'normative' vs 'deviant' continuum, and the vertical axis would form the 'official religion' vs 'popular' (or personal) continuum. Click to image to the right to expand it. In this manner, we can identity where a practice falls in relation to 'received' practice in the culture, in relation the religious authorities appointed to facilitate or conduct the religion, or in one's own personal piety. Along with this graphic, some other definitions may also be helpful.

What is meant by these 'types' of religious practice?

Normative religion: adhering to the accepted practice and beliefs received and codified within a given community (i.e. Sacred Scriptures or cultural consensus).

Official religion: practice and beliefs conducted and/or required by authoritative leadership (i.e. priestly or royal figures).

Popular religion: personal piety of the private practitioner influenced by criteria decided upon by the motives and needs of the individual.

Deviant religion: operating outside acceptable normative parameters related to religious thought and ritual.

These categories help us to organize and make sense of the wide diversity of religious expressions evident in ancient Israel, as well as understand how their history offers beneficial lessons for us today. It also helps us to evaluate religion even in our present day with regard to our own Christian context. For example, a popular idea might have arisen among some Christians that differs significantly from what is taught at the official level of professional theologians within a given tradition. Likewise, certain doctrines and practices can be acknowledged as having been 'received' and codified by all Christians everywhere, thus making them the norm from which someone might deviate.

My contention is that any culture's religious expressions fall somewhere into this rubric, but of course in my own case, it is applied specifically to Christianity. Therefore, the 'norms' of Christianity are determined by what the Apostles and church fathers showed to be the clear teaching of Holy Scripture. This creates the normative Christian religion that official leadership is tasked with leading people to follow. At the popular level, it remains the responsibility of each believer to follow the normative religion prescribed by orthodox authorities. It is sobering to realize that leaders can deviate from the accepted norms, and lead others to do so as well. Not only this, but individuals can, at the popular level, deviate from official orthodoxy also. Certainly any pastor might find it disconcerting to discover what superstitions are entertained by those regularly exposed to his preaching (and thus should know better).

For ancient Israel, all of these categories are well represented in their history. Official normative religion is well demonstrated by the orthodox worship conducted in the wilderness Tabernacle or at the dedication of Solomon's Temple in Jerusalem. Yet official deviance is shown through Israelite kings following after the neighboring Canaanite gods and, by virtue of their royal office, leading the rest of the nation to do the same. While normative religion is easy to experience through the popular psalms, hymns and poetry of David, Hannah and others, popular deviance is detectable in the household idols used in the period of the Judges.

The personal ramifications are weighty. Having become confident that authorities over me are leading in and facilitating normative Christian religion, it falls to me to follow it and adhere to those norms at the popular level. It is possible that the leadership could deviate from orthodoxy in some obvious manner (as with the Episcopal Church; ECUSA), thereby forcing me to find new leaders that follow Christian norms. However, so long as my leadership is officially normative, my popular and personal piety must align with it. Some in our culture will champion one's right to choose their religion, but it seems more healthy to exercise that choice to adhere to right religion. After all, it expresses my relationship to God, so there is nothing more important to be right about.

That's Sacred to Me

2010-07-21T06:14:00.001-07:00

Growing up, I heard two contradictory messages from Christian authority figures all around me, though I didn't realize it at the time.

1. God is everywhere and with us all the time. He doesn't need special rituals or spaces to meet with us (as was supposedly the dominant reality of Jewish religion in the Old Testament). "We're not like those Catholics," I was told, "who need rituals, robes and ornate buildings to worship. We don't need all that 'extra' stuff." Buildings, things and job positions aren't particularly "special" to God.

2. "Don't run in church!"... "Don't treat your Bible like that!" ... "Dress in your 'Sunday best'"... "Support your pastor. He's a 'man of God'."

You can see the conflict. There was an overt anti-Catholicism in the Baptist tradition that sought to reject 'elements of the sacred' while intuitively practicing them in many respects. Over the years though, I've come to discover that Protestant traditions rightly maintain this unacknowledged instinct because it has such deep roots among the populus Dei ("the people of God" for all time). What is necessary is not to deny these 'elements of the sacred,' but instead to plainly identify them, properly engaging them in worshiping the Lord. I offer here five categories of "the sacred" that the people of God naturally use in the lifestyle of worship:

Sacred Times

One of the most easily acknowledged of these categories is the notion of specific times 'set apart' to God for worship or his particular use. The 10 Commandments includes this with "Remember the Sabbath day to set it apart as holy. For six days you may labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God; on it you shall not do any work, you, or your son, or your daughter, or your male servant, or your female servant, or your cattle, or the resident foreigner who is in your gates" (Ex 20:8-10). Thus the notion of sacred time is introduced in the Old Testament, and carries forward into the New Testament as early Christians gathered on Sunday to commemorate the first day of the week when Christ arose from the dead. Therefore, the Christian Sunday replaced the Jewish Saturday ("sabbath") as the day of the week set apart to the Lord specifically to worship him and enjoy his provision.

However, 'sacred time' was, by no means, restricted to merely a day. Sacred holidays (feasts) punctuated the calender to create the occasional party 'to the Lord.' In addition, even times of day were designated for 'morning and evening sacrifice.' Sacred time is setting aside particular amounts of time for worshiping the Lord and enjoying life with him.

Sacred Space

Though not listed specifically in the Decalogue, the element of sacred space remains ever present throughout the Bible. Though it's more easily observed in the Old Testament (i.e. Moses removes shoes on 'holy ground,' Jerusalem as God's 'holy city' and the Temple as the 'house' of the Lord), the New Testament makes no effort to counteract this paradigm. The early Church appears to have understood this level of their continuity with the ancient faith of the Israelites, developing healthy appetites for the 'sanctuary' as designated space for communal worship. The "Don't run in church!" admonishment of the Baptist church betrays a heritage beholden to the ancient Church catholic. What's more? The front of the church building differs from the rear of the 'sanctuary' (i.e. auditorium or 'worship center' for mega-churches). Even if horseplay is tolerated among children after service hours, they still are not allowed to rough-house on the stage, around the pulpit or across the communion table. People of faith have an intuitive sense of 'sacred space' that suggests to them, "the Lord communes with me there in a different manner that he does elsewhere."

Sacred rites

It is only natural that protocols and procedures are in place for interacting with the Divine that acknowledges their superior place over the worshiper. This acknowledgment is essential to demonstrate reverence and appropriate respect to the deity one believes is being worshiped. Obviously, one can get around this by simply not believing that a deity is present or listening, but this amounts to a functional atheism unacceptable to the devout. Communal worship in the Old Testament is the very model of rites and rituals all crafted to reflect the holiness of the God being approached through the system of sacrifices. Though all of these would not be exactly duplicated in the New Testament, echoes of them are found in such NT admonishments to "do everything in a decent and orderly manner" (1 Cor 14:40) and worship descriptions as "They were devoting themselves to the apostles’ teaching [suggests a creedal confession of faith] and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread [suggests sacramental communion] and to prayer [lit. the prayers]" (Acts 2:42). Even church traditions that claim to be "non-liturgical" demonstrate this principle in how accepted practices naturally emerge as facilitating worship during the gathering of the faithful.

Sacred objects

The tradition is long and obvious that God uses stuff as instruments of his presence and power. Whether it is Moses' staff during the Exodus story, the Ark of the Covenant or the hem of Christ's garment through which a woman was healed, objects have been designated by God throughout redemptive history to convey God's 'localized presence.' The fear of overdoing this instinct into a quasi-idolatry should, by no means, retard the tendency to continue what God has instituted in ancient times. If Paul's quotation of Habakkuk that "the righteous by faith will live" suggests a continuity of faith among the Faithful of all time periods (cf. Rom 1:17; Hab 2:4), then God's use of sacred objects to convey his presence among his people is no less appropriate today than it has ever been throughout time. Thus, abusing sacraments in the NT can carry similar consequences to unauthorized contact with the Ark of the Covenant in the OT (cf. 1 Cor 11:27-30; 2 Sam 6:6-7). One appropriately demonstrates reverent care for those objects used for worship today (i.e. Bible, crosses, communion ware, even worship garments) knowing that reverence employed in handling those objects reflects one's reverence before God.

Sacred offices

Within a given community, there is always a clear necessity for designated people, set apart and skilled, to facilitate the communal worship rites. This is not merely restricted to the prophets, priests and Levites of ancient Israel. Presbyters, pastors and teachers are listed among the "gifts" God gives to the New Testament covenant community as well. The office of "Apostle" holds special status as the first of Jesus' followers who are trusted with accurately and effectively spreading his message. Thus, it remains necessary for clergy to be ordained by someone that was ordained by someone that was ordained by someone [etc....] ordained by an Apostle and trusted to succeed them ("apostolic succession"). Even now, 'holy men' are consecrated within a given religious community, and recognized as qualified to lead the community in their accepted rites. Being 'set apart' as holding a sacred office, these individuals fulfill an intermediary function, assisting worshipers in connecting with God, reflecting the ultimate and complete manner this function is carried out by Jesus Christ.

These 'elements of the sacred' are clearly evident in the Biblical record, and are reflected in modern Christian practice as well. The most legitimate Christian practices embrace this heritage and seek to maintain the healthy intermingling of orthodoxy and orthopraxy. In addition, we have not even addressed here the concept of 'scared people,' that renders the populus Dei as the official residence of the living God (sacred space), with a lifespan dedicated to God (sacred time), who is his instrument of presence and power (sacred objects), who are invited into his courtly presence through royal protocols (sacred rites) and must bear his image and represent him to the world (sacred office). This notion of sacred people would thus render all sin a defilement of the sacred.

I grew up in a tradition that offered contradictory messages about 'the sacred.' I now operate in a tradition that maintains better harmony regarding these. In my opinion, all Christians would benefit greatly from acknowledging their instincts toward the sacred as given by God, and that those instincts, while needing parameters and direction from Holy Scripture and the wisely authoritative fellowship of the Church, are ignored at our own peril.

Run in the Rain

2010-07-02T17:17:00.000-07:00

Hurricane "Alex" is primarily south of Houston. In fact, its major presence has been felt where Texas and Mexico share a border. Nevertheless, its influence on the weather extends quite a distance out from its "Eye." As a result, the long reach of this storm has even given Houston a considerable amount of precipitation for a few days (I cannot speak to whether it is more than normal, but the recent downpour has certainly been attributed to the reach of "Alex."). For us, rain is always welcome. There is no tendency in this family to peer out the window and lament that all the fun has been "rained out." No Cat in the Hat will be visiting to cause trouble indoors. There simply is no need to entertain bored people cooped up inside while the water cascades in sheets outside... for we'll likely be out in it anyway.

Water is our "family symbol." This legacy began with my father, Ron Ott, who is a renowned water engineer. Growing up, I always heard about his work developing hydroelectric projects, water collection and diversion systems or water quality and cleanup studies. He was the kind of man that didn't "bring work home" per se, but exposed us so successfully to his profession that we all took pride in his work. I remember wanting to learn the names of various turbine types and the hydrodynamic processes that made water behave this or that way. Water became something we all appreciated and knew about. What's more? We lived on the shore of the Sacramento River. I'd watch its high flow periods, ask about its flood stages and respect its currents. Each summer we spent a week vacation on a houseboat on Lake Shasta, water skiing and swimming from dawn to dusk. Heavy storms were an opportunity to listen intently to the rain beating its excited drum beat on the roof, or check local culverts for unobstructed flow. Water was so heavily integrated into our "family culture" that the logo for my father's engineering firm came to represent more than just his business - it was almost our family crest.

Later on, as I became increasingly aware of the biblical use of water as an analogy for the power, influence and movement of the Holy Spirit, that same family legacy took on spiritual significance. Water was no longer just the family business. It was a means of meditating on God, life and the truths that shape one's thinking. Water facilitates reflection on life, lessons of particular importance and connection to creation for living it out. Water provides a connection to the Earth. It refreshes the land, provides homes for fish and animals, sustains human life and cleanses the landscape. To be surrounded by water is to be surrounded by life. Even at sea, when the water cannot be consumed, it's still teaming with life and creatures of wondrous variety. Streams and tributaries are the arteries of the land. Mountains, valleys, canyons and plains all shape themselves in connection with water.

For these reasons, heavy rain is by no means a deterrent from going outside. On the contrary, it "calls" to me. I hadn't run my normal route in a few days and desired a good jog. The "curtains" of rain outside made it seem like a perfect time to go. Donning my jogging shoes, I left the garage and felt the beads strike my face. It didn't take long before the clothes were drenched, so there was no need to worry about that anymore. One hundred yards into the two mile run I realized that I was a truly loving the whole experience. The iPod remained at home, so only the sounds of the rain served as the "soundtrack" to my exercise. The arms and legs felt every drop striking with exhilarating force. Sheets of water pelted my face, daring me to keep my head up and peering down the road instead of staring down at my feet. Occasional winds moved the water to horizontally hit me from a different angle altogether. The roar of the downpour and the swirling blasts collected into a stereophonic challenge to my resolved, and seemed to yell, "This is too difficult and too uncomfortable for you. You should just walk back to the house now and dry off. This is crazy for you to be out running in this. It can't possibly be enjoyable." In response to the challenge I just smiled wider and plowed ahead.

Being engulfed in the elements of the storm, with the rain beating down upon me, I felt so very much alive. To be physically enveloped in the very legacy of the family and the analogy of the Spirit, all the while feeling the resistance of weather, drove me to glory in the harshness of the environment. "Bring it on!" I screamed in my head. It seemed like such a natural setting - being so intensely resisted by the elements, yet simultaneously being "at home." A powerful and mystical combination, to be sure. The entire moment seemed analogous to other pursuits in life as well, being both unaccommodating and inviting at the same time. In any of those moments I will certainly hearken back to my exhilarating run in the rain, and how marvelous it felt to press on in the face of such meteorological "protest." After all, whatever the clouds sought to throw at me only heightened the sense of legacy, tenacity and destiny. I suspect, because of how therapeutic this was today, I'll likely run in the rain more in the future. I'm sure I'll need it.

What's the "Calling" in life?

2010-06-23T09:25:00.000-07:00

One of the issues that contributes a great deal to "teen angst" is the concern over "What do you want to be/do when you grow up?" The process of selecting a profession that will be both personally fulfilling and financially sustaining is a daunting task that few high-schoolers are up to. It is, therefore, of little help that so many influential voices surround them regarding what they ought to do with their life. The malaise of messages they imbibe while braving the gauntlet often labeled "finding yourself" are by no means harmonious. Familial opinions may clash with the youth's own internal proddings, or they may echo them. In any case, the young person can by no means ignore the thoughts of their surrounding peers or parents when considering the career path.

Hopefully, all of the hard work of personal discovery pays off as choices are made regarding vocation paths and education strategies. Nevertheless, when engaged in that path, the individual must perceive that it is a course they have chosen. However, the truly autonomous choice is somewhat of a misnomer. Myriad factors come to bear in the process of decision making, and ambient conditions of peer pressure and familial approval cannot be fully discounted. On the contrary, so varied are the influential components on one's choosing of a life course that it remains highly problematic to identify them all. As a result, many do not even attempt to do so. Instead, the kaleidoscope of shades that color their decision are clumped together and summarized with a nebulous label: "calling."

This term ("calling") has come into such popular use that the fact that no one truly knows what they mean when they use it is, by no means, a deterrent from using it with dizzying frequency. It's uses range from the relatively benign compliment "You missed your calling" (given when one supposedly observes exceptional skill demonstrated in another), to the more sinister source of teen-angst "You must discover your calling" (saddling the youngster with the heavy misconception that there might be one thing they can do in life). In any event, "calling" is meant to convey the supposed marrying of aptitude and appetite as regarding one's vocation. It can be used in a comparatively harmless manner, suggesting that one's "calling" should reflect both high aptitude AND high appetite activity, but in religious circles it can take on a very different connotation.

The propensity of the religious sub-culture to "punt" to the work of God as a sort of universal "fudge factor" cannot be overstated. Anything for which I'm unwilling to take the time to explain, I can simply invoke how "God works in mysterious ways" to end the conversation. This instinct is not entire misplaced, for the life of faith acknowledges how frequently God works through seemingly natural processes (also labeled "Providence" in some literature). Nevertheless, this same instinct can be abused to infuse certain inexplicable choices with Divine authority. In few cases is this more evident than with the manner that minsters describe themselves as "called of God." Instead of simply acknowledging the choices they made, and that their aptitude and appetite converged in a ministerial career, the choice to pursue a career in ministry is suggested to have been a response to a "Divine call."

This language can have the positive effect of helping the minister weather tough moments in the career, where setbacks and disappointments can test resolve. However, at the other end of the spectrum, it can have the destructive effect of keeping someone locked into that arena that should not be there. It is one thing for a man to endure hardships in a vocation because he feels "called" to it. It is another matter altogether for a man to remain in a vocation he not well suited for because of the guilt over potentially ignoring his "calling." Thus the whole language of "calling" seems hardly worth it's destructive potential. Surely God is not offended if a man who he "calls" admits that he really wanted to become a minister. But what untold pain ensues when a man that should not be in ministry stays at it because he perceives himself "called by God?"

This misplaced and pious language borrows its terms from Biblical terminology used less than a dozen times in Pauline literature (Greek-kaleo meaning "to urgently invite someone to accept responsibilities for a particular task, implying a new relationship to the one who does the calling — ‘to call, to call to a task.’"). Most often the phrasing of "calling" or "called" referenced God's drawing of someone to salvation through faith in Christ - having little to do with vocation choices or service in the Church. Nevertheless, because the term is found in the Bible, this gives license to use it, in popular religion, to blame my career choices on God more than on my own desires or the influence felt from friends and family.

For years I had labored under the assumption of having been "called" to the ministry. Many education and ecclesiastical choices were made in light of this assumption. However, now, after a considerable time of reflection, it is more plainly evident that the various ambient influences that came to bear should have been better identified. Ministerial choices were made with considerable attention to how family and friends found it laudable and praiseworthy. In an evangelical sub-culture, it is considered that if someone is truly spiritual, they will seek to "devote their life to the service of Christ" (this is code language for pursuing a religious career). As much as I revered my father, there was no one he revered so much as the local pastor. If a young man wanted to pursue a career that pleased that father, the choice was obvious. In addition, having various friends in the evangelical sub-culture who also thought a ministry career to be more respectable than any other pursuit, peer approval also played a role.

Can it be forcefully asserted that God played no role in this? By no means. To the extent that Providence can be credited for life lessons, God is appropriately thanked for life events that have proven beneficial. Was ministerial training and service totally contrary to my desires? Not at all. Indeed for one who enjoys teaching and training others, such aptitudes can find fulfilling expression in many careers (ministry included). But was I "called of God" to ministry? This language seems so meaningless now. I was once quite convinced I was "called," but had also failed to account for the various factors that had influenced my choices. So now, it seems far more responsible to merely assert that one is "called" to be conformed to the image of Christ - and some may choose careers of training other people in that process (which I did for a time).

But that's not good enough for some. It was recently posed to me that if I once was "called," to rebel against that "calling" now is sin. THAT'S SICK! The man that suggested that to me is one who I have some respect for, so I didn't exclaim to him what was blaring in my head at the time ("You pulled that out of thin air!" - censored, of course). What great pressures are heaped upon some for suggesting that their career choice is no less vital to the Church than when Jesus "called" his disciples to follow him. No, it is far more helpful to simply acknowledge one's choices, along with the various influences impacting that decision (Yes, religious zeal is a legitimate influential factor; so long as it is acknowledged as part of one's own choice), rather than to "punt" to the ambiguous language of "calling" that, while shielding one from others questioning the choice, serves to misplace responsibility for the choice. God didn't make you do this. You wanted to. Now admit the various reasons why doing it brought you fulfillment.

For me, Christian ministry brought me fulfillment because I enjoy watching people develop. It gives me pleasure to see people learn, and through that learning be better equipped to advance in their pursuits. In the Christian life, "advancement" means to be more conformed to the image of Christ. But for the same reasons I found fulfillment in ministry, I can easily find it elsewhere in academia as well. It's better to simply admit this than to maintain the unhelpful language of "calling." If a minister I respect speaks of being "called" to the ministry though, I won't try to refute him. I'll simply think to myself, "actually, you pretty much chose to do this. You're good at it. There was an opportunity to do it...and we're all the beneficiaries of your choice." May we all take more responsibility for our choices, identifying the various motives we bring to the table in making our choices, so that, while Providence can be credited for some good choices, God won't be blamed for bad ones.

I'm Proud to be from...

2010-06-10T10:01:00.000-07:00

Geographic pride is varied and diverse among people I have met, and I'm not immune to it either. I've spoken before on the manner in which so many of us seem inexplicably "attached" to the land. This can be topographically true, with people self-identifying as a "mountain man" or a "beach bum." However, I have found that can be very regionally true as well. While few may take particular pride in being from "the north" (who knows? Perhaps there are some native Minnesotans I haven't met yet that are very proud of it; "Ya betcha!"), my recent experience has been that being from "The South" holds a peculiar air of honor. While my "southern" friends acknowledge some of the less complimentary legacies of the region, there's still a sort of "geographic loyalty" that doesn't allow the critique to go too far before a hearty "hold on there, pard'ner" brings the conversation back to a friendly tone.

I'm the same way. I'm proud to be from northern California (stress on the "northern.") I always (ALWAYS!) sing along with Hank Williams, Jr. (in that part of his song "A Country Boy Can Survive") when he mentions "north California." People from Texas that don't know where Redding is often ask, "Isn't that in northern California... near San Francisco?" My answer is always swift: "NO! Redding is really in northern California. San Francisco is a 4 hour drive away" (stress on the "4 hours"). "They're not in northern California," I clarify. "We are!" Whenever the news discusses some crazy occurrence happening in California, I always assume it's far away from my beloved homeland.

I'm so pathetic... I get all defensive as well. Someone may say, "Go to such and such a place. The lakes there are beautiful," but I'll quickly counter, "maybe, but not as pretty as Whiskeytown or Shasta." A well meaning acquaintance here in Texas will suggest I visit the "mountains" in west Texas, but I quickly correct, "They're not like the MOUNTAINS in northern California." That type of "geographic loyalty" just comes out of one's speech before you've even had the chance to stop and think about what you're saying. I'm sure some must find it rude at times, or at least shake their heads and think: he's illogically loyal to his home region.

Those in "the South" are no worse than I am. How could I expect them to throw their regional loyalties "under the bus" whenever someone not from there brings up historic episodes related "Jim Crow" laws, the Klan or slavery. It's unreasonable to think that people will shed their homeland identity the moment an "outsider" wants to point out a region's "checkered past." In addition, no region is immune to such critiques, so "the South" should not have to endure a disproportionately negative report. I'm sensitive to this because of recent comments offered from those that both are not from "the South," and don't acknowledge their own attachment to "a land" either.

I find that it is very natural to admit a "regional identity," proudly affirming one's homeland and even listing ways that geography has likely shaped you. By contrast, those that have not explored this may unreasonably question another's defense of their homeland. If someone approaches me with attacks about the U.S. acquisition of California from Mexico or the displacement of Indian tribes, I'm likely to interrupt with, "Yeah..yeah. I know about that. But you should hear the great stories of the Gold Rush and Sutter's Mill, and many others that will blow your mind."

I imagine this phenomenon of "regional loyalty" has got to be quite widespread. No doubt such sentiments would arise when conversing with someone imbued with the "wild Alaska spirit," or that was raised in the hills of Tennessee. The Nebraska plains or the Florida beaches much invade the psyche so that someone from there may think of any negative legacies: that's for me to know, but not for you to say. I'm sure the lighthouses of Maine must shape a person just as much as the Colorado Rockies do, and I don't begrudge a New Yorker turning defensive for Lady Liberty anymore than I would the Texan that stands at The Alamo in silence.

There's a way in which people are naturally tied to the land. We're made to work the soil, follow it's seasons and feel it's rhythms. It's not pantheism or a Gaia cult. We're made by the Creator to be in harmony with the creation, and the way the land shapes us should not be surprising. I'm proud to be from northern California, and I glad to meet anyone proud to be from anywhere else too.

Symbols and Ignorance

2010-06-05T07:18:00.000-07:00

Symbols gain their significance not only by the historic setting into which they are first introduced, but also by popular usage over time. As a result, some symbols take on a wide variety of meanings depending upon the context in which they are used. Therefore, the symbols, by themselves, cannot convey a clear meaning unless accompanied with some explanation as to why it is being used, and what message they are meant to embody. For example, a bronze eagle perched atop a flag pole carried in procession might represent national pride in a 2nd century Roman legion, a Third Reich military parade or a local gathering of the Boy Scouts in your neighborhood. Symbols must have a context, or else their range of meanings is simply too vast to convey anything meaningful.

Another excellent example is the symbol of the Confederate Battle flag. Used during the Civil War as a battle flag for some Confederate states, it has particular historical significance. Some may use it to symbolize, in a panoramic way, the entire "War Between the States," appreciating the forming and shaping this conflict accomplished for the still relatively young nation. Other historical enthusiasts and societies use it to symbolize a very specific aspect of that history related to military legacies or southern family settlements dating clear back to the antebellum period. On the other hand, others may use it to symbolize legitimate and contemporary political discussions concerning state's rights versus federal authority on a given issue. It can represent something as generic as one's geographic pride in being from "The South," to something as light-heated as the famed "General Lee" car in television's "The Dukes of Hazard."

And, of course, it can negatively be used to symbolize the scourge of slavery that blights American history. Fueling this usage have been the occasional racist groups that still exists to this day. Such ideological "cancers" use the above symbol to represent, if not "white supremacy," at least a version of "white separatism." The thought is that since people of various races tend to congregate together anyway, and organically form their own cultural dynamics... why fight it? It encourages an "us versus them" mentality that thinks nothing of making broad, sweeping statements about "the other group."

Such mouth pieces for this line of thinking represent the worst type of ignorance. It could very well be that they have had an experience in their sphere of life that they then project upon the rest of a group, and upon society. Regardless of what life experience has led them to espouse their view, the effect is the same: racism. They give themselves over to the intellectual laziness of assuming that those of a specific racial group all share a common trait (seldom is this trait a positive one). Yet the racist does not stop to consider whether he has performed a reckless leap of logic; he simply assumes, unquestioningly, that broad generalities (either told to him by another racist, or that he extrapolated from his own limited experience) can be safely applied to entire people groups that share a common color or accent that differs from his own.

In a previous article (What do you Mean when you Say, "Equal?"), it was discussed that ultimately, the ignorance of finding groups to be inferior is not merely a wrong-headed evil, it's a theological heresy. Because the blessed doctrine of "universal depravity" reminds us that we are all crooked deep down and in need of the saving work of Jesus Christ, to suggest that the negative effects of "the fall" are more concentrated in another group than one's own is to find one's self at odds with this doctrine. The doctrine of "universal depravity" is supplanted with the heresy of "concentrated depravity," supposing that depravity is more "concentrated" in another race or gender than mine.

But the racist defends, "It's not that I think 'that other race' is wholly inferior to mine. I just think there exists a conflict between 'that other race' and mine." Again, the "racism" is evident in the unbridled willingness to accept that ALL of "the other race" are in conflict with ALL of mine. The generalizations abound with unflinching force and comfort. This green man and that blue man have a quarrel in a specific part of the country; ergo... green men and blue men everywhere are in conflict. Rubbish!

Again, the racist defends, "But the green man and the blue man SAID that they were fighting because of their colors." He accepts without criticism whether the "green and blue men" in question are the best examples of humanity with which to be formulating sociological assumptions. No, he imbibes the explanation that such "conflict" must be everywhere because he already accepts the premise that "blues" and "greens" just don't mix well. It helps him organize his view of people, make sense of the world and manage the input of various experiences he has. He may not wear a hood, tattoo a swastika on his shoulder or "jump into" a Neo-Nazi gang, but he has adopted the racist paradigm nonetheless. He thinks in groups, in terms of race, and fully expects "the other race" to be in conflict with his.

It remains lamentable that the Confederate Battle flag is seen so easily by some as a symbol of racism. Journals and memoirs from Confederate Army generals are replete with musings on the blight of slavery, and the desire to see it eradicated - "just as soon as this conflict with the invading Federal Army from the North is won." But such sentiments are seldom the headline. Instead, the meaning often ascribed to it is one of racism that was formalized in the institution of slavery of the 19th century. And present-day racists, in their various forms, that use it to symbolize there own message aren't helping.

I Don't Know... and Neither Do You.

2010-05-24T07:02:00.000-07:00

The exercise of "doing theology" can be a fascinating process, seeking to place into arbitrarily decided, logical categories the diverse and varied bits of data one can find regarding things pertaining to faith. The categories can include (but are not limited to) matters regarding the nature, character and habits of what one calls "God," the makeup of human beings and the manner in which the two entities interact. Other categories can emerge as well, such as beings that seem to exist but do not fit either of those categories (angels, demons, spirits of various types, etc.). The entire process is predicated on the assumption that there exists more to reality than what can be empirically or materially proven. Thus these are matters of "Faith," not science. The "science" of thinking about God (theology) may have a set of criteria, but must not expect the level of detail achieveable in the "hard sciences" (geophysics, biology, chemistry, etc.).

In the Christian tradition, the parameters for "doing theology" have chiefly emerged from the Holy Scriptures (The Bible). However, since the Bible requires interpretation, the question of "who has authority to interpret it?" has also been hotly debated. This has given rise to "Church tradition" being a trusted benchmark for whether one is reading the Bible "Christian-ly." In ancient times, concerns over whether those reading the Scriptures would arrive at "Christian conclusions" necessitated major biblical themes being codified into "Creeds." Today, one can be reliably confident that they are "doing theology" in a Christian manner if they fall between the boundaries set by the great Creeds of the ancient Church (The Apostle's Creed, The Nicene Creed, etc.). The ancient Church "Fathers" wisely defined in the Creeds what is emphasized in the Scriptures, and central to Christian faith. However, they also wisely left undefined those matters that are not emphasized as much and are not as central. It would seem that even in a pre-scientific era, the Fathers knew not to require the same level of scientific precision that would later be pursued in...oh say... nuclear energy applications.

However... the wisdom of the Fathers appears largely absent in the present religious landscape of the West. Our curiosity gravitates automatically to nearly any matter not made plain in history or Holy Scripture. That the Fathers, the Apostles, or God (for that matter) left a thing under-defined is by no means a deterrent from our endless speculations. In our twisted re-direction, we emphasize that which Scripture does not, and marginalize that which it does. That a thing cannot be well known, is not considered a significant obstacle from trying to know it better than anyone else.

How is it that the authors of the great Creeds sought merely to assert that God created "all things visible and invisible," but did not codify how God created these things? Did they lack the "sophistication" to offer such "scientific" details? Or were they instead moved along with Divine wisdom to simply assert THAT he created, and render further details unnecessary? I argue the latter. Yet curiously, Evangelicals of the West have made the "how" a tenet of faith. Allowing those without faith to somehow "draw the battle lines," Evangelicals have declared the Creeds' pronouncement of "God as Creator" to be inadequate. "One must be against Darwin to be for Christ"... goes the refrain. Matters that cannot be known are assumed to be "knowable enough" to constitute a new layer of criteria for orthodox belief. I lament this with head hung low.

Yet this is only one example... Many others can be offered. The myriad ideas that have arisen regarding angels, demons, Heaven, hell, the return(s) of Christ to Earth and the "filling" of the Holy Spirit grow so fanciful and outlandish as to welcome popular superstitions with open arms. For this reason, the mind develops a sort of "theology fatigue." Recognizing that the "goofy" so often prevails over the "thoughtful" in such topics, the reflective observer simply "shuts down" and declares, "I'm out." The instinct to muse creatively about things not emphasized in Scripture or Creed leaves the bystander discouraged about the level of certainty entertained regarding what cannot be known. It's not just that I admit I don't know certain things... I don't think you know them either (but that certainly hasn't discouraged you from asserting it as though it was a central doctrine). Sigh.

Because I used to fear appearing unlearned, and the acceptance of peers was so paramount to self-esteem, I would offer my speculations about all manners of concepts, regardless of whether they were demonstrable from history or Holy Scripture. Having increasingly lost my appetite for that sort of "creative thinking" though, I'm now much more willing to simply say "I don't know;" and in my braver moments might even add, "...and neither do you."

I have No Opinion

2010-05-22T07:36:00.000-07:00

There is a phenomenon I've observed in our culture that is not restricted to a single arena. It is the situation wherein you hold a differing opinion than some of those around you, and they simply cannot handle that. They must set upon you like starving Dingos to persuade you to their point of view, discourage you from further voicing your thoughts or to marginalize you in the ideological landscape. The notion that you might thinking differently than they do cannot be tolerated (in contrast to the "tolerance" supposedly valued by the those same people). There's a sense in which they hold the "orthodox faith" in a specific category, and you are the unrepentant "heretic." As a result, sharing your thoughts on a matter can be risky business - even among those you call "friends" (facebook's redefining of that term notwithstanding). To this end one must be prepared: if you share your thoughts on a matter, and it deviates from the "party line," you may be required to debate your point with nauseating endurance by those unwilling to simply let you have your view.

It is because I have no appetite for debating, arguing and rhetorical "combat" that I now have learned to keep many viewpoints to myself. Those around me that have constituted that "swarming Piranha" can glory in their triumph for having successfully intimidated someone into keeping his opinions (for the most part) to himself.

I find this prevalent in two arenas (though there may be others): politics and religion. In both of these, the propensity for debate and argument is strong. Ever since preaching replaced "the table" as the primary "sacrament" of the Protestant church, the art of speech as a persuasive enterprise has permeated throughout not only Western Christianity, but politics as well. Prior to The Democratization of American Christianity, personal views would have appeared more tolerable because (1) kings did not have to persuade subjects to vote for them every few years, and (2) pastors did not have to persuade people to remain in their church. However, as western culture has progressively moved toward the necessity to persuade every individual, the rise of the opinionated person has become so commonplace as to nearly constitute a next "phase of evolution." As a result, anyone with a strong opinion is (or has to be) in "persuasion mode." I'm seen as a "preacher" for my viewpoint, proclaiming forth the "correct" perspective and shouting down all opposition.

In the religious arena, my experience has been that the fundamentalist mentality will not countenance a differing viewpoint. It's never enough how much in common you might have with someone in the same broader faith context. On the contrary, the differences (no matter how slight) are cause for their alarm; to the extent that they will "root out" the deviant within their midst. It is not enough to hold in common the same basic tenets of faith, particularly in regards to (in my case) historic Christianity. No, the manner in which your smallest opinion differs from mine must be discovered and camped on until it's all we talk about. It's the most important thing I know about you, and the major issue in which I need to convince you to think the way I do. Whether or not you like me or can stand my presence is of no consequence; your complete agreement with me is all that matters.

Such is it in political discussions as well. I am sure that there exists plenty of this type of person on both sides of the political spectrum, but because I am a "conservative" (with "libertarian" tendencies), I've experienced it mostly from those on the ideological "left." Post any opinion or share any idea regarding my distaste for government expansion, the eroding of personal responsibility or monstrous taxation, and "it's on." It is not enough for those friends or acquaintances of mine that fit well within the "liberal" or "progressive" category to simply shake their heads and think, "There he goes again." No... their biting comments are nearly inevitable. Not content that my view differs from theirs (even thinking me misguided), my view must be "shot down" with righteous fervor and forceful argumentation. It is simply intolerable that I might have a different opinion. It is not enough to subscribe to a different political philosophy, my view must be demeaned and mocked with biting jabs until I finally "shut, the heck, up."

Well, to all of my debaters and arguers, I raise a glass in your victory. I am successfully intimidated. You win. I am now, by and large, fearful of posting anything on facebook or twitter regarding politics, government, or those goofy ideas you hold about "how many Angels can dance on the head of a pin." Since I'm so confident I'll never persuade you either, I'm not going to waste energy trying. I'll simply vote how I vote, worship how I worship, and hopefully raise children that are pretty reasonable too. But around you, I pretty much have no opinion. Why? Because it's just not worth expending the energy to endure the onslaught of your intolerance. Congratulations... My silence is your glory (and the saddest part is, I'm sure you think so).

Why do you do it?

2010-05-07T13:53:00.000-07:00

"Sunday's Coming" Movie Trailer from North Point Media on Vimeo.

I simply could not resist. I'm teaching a course wherein we evaluate religion in ancient Israel, and with this wisdom try to evaluate ourselves. For this reason, a little satire goes a long way in helping us maintain a healthy perspective. This is so awesome!

A Full Trip

2010-04-30T05:40:00.000-07:00

I could not have planned a more full trip, nor one more fulfilling from a relational standpoint. Stacked with events involving friends and family, the schedule proved a steady stream of joyous reunions. All was not mere nostalgia though. A number of new experiences provided detours from "memory lane" that remain points of reflection.

Several themes emerged during this trip that deserve treatment here:

1. Old Friendships must be Updated. It is not enough to merely have memories with people. Photo albums and scrapbooks have their place, but the taste for them quickly wanes amidst the possibility of discussing current life events. Images of yesteryear have some value, but the people in those pictures no longer exist; only the people in the present are the people that do. Those that were are not those that are. Stories that start with "remember the time...?" must be eclipsed by ones that begin with "this is what's happening now..."

I had the opportunity to perform this friendship "reboot" on a couple of occasions. It was a great pleasure. In several cases I was treated to full tours of the arenas where these friends work, leaving me completely fascinated by their respective careers. In addition, so little of the past was brought up because there was simply too much happening in the present to cover. These friendships were indeed "updated," and brought current. What a joy.

2. Geography is Sufficient to Induce Memory. Driving through northern California produced a tsunami of recollections. The routes through Sacramento somewhat started this, but it was Interstate 5 north of Sacramento that began to 'crack those flood gates open.' By the time my approach to Redding took me through the towns of Red Bluff (where all my children were born), Cottonwood and Anderson, I was abuzz with visions of "way back then." As I drove through the downtown area of Redding, near Shasta Dam and Whiskeytown Lake, across the Cypress Street bridge or down Hilltop Drive, "the force" was strong in this place. I noticed all that looked the same since I last was here, and all that had drastically changed.

Some roads were as easy to navigate as if I had never left, yet others left me somewhat 'turned around.' I noticed some buildings that had stood since my childhood, yet other new structures seemed glaringly out of place. The palm trees down the center of Hilltop Drive gave the whole area a different look. This whole "hot/cold" combination of nostalgic sensations could have kept me cruising around the ole' hometown for days.

3. New Experiences make for great Re-creation/re-connection. From hiking to Feather Falls east of Oroville, or playing my first gold course, having these new experiences make for moments of discovery with those loved ones that really should share them with you. Riding a bicycle around Lake Natoma or sauntering casually through Old Sacramento facilitated opportunities to point out to a mother, father or sister something new and neat.

"Look at that! Isn't that cool?"

Such discoveries are meant to be made with loved ones who will share your excitement and exult in your joy. Yet not all new experiences can be shared. At the end of the trip, I enjoyed the annual conference for the American Research Center in Egypt held in Oakland. While I could not take any friends or family with me to this, it nonetheless was filled with sufficient new stimuli to fuel my excited stories upon returning home.

The trip could not have been planned better, and many of the encounters will leave lasting blessings. Would that many be able to enjoy such a time of re-creation and re-connection that offers great comfort to the soul and warmth to the heart.

The Courtyard of the Temple

2010-04-10T16:29:00.001-07:00

For the first time, last Friday I got to train the Art (kung fu) at Church of the Holy Trinity. While I lament immediately taking a two week break for the sake of a much needed trip, I was glad to fit in the initial session. At present, the those gathered to train include only myself and my two sons. In the future, others may join us as we become more comfortable with using the space for this purpose. Nevertheless, for the time being, the 'threshold' has been crossed, and we can credibly state that the body is trained in the same location as the soul. A local church produces 'sacred space' for more reasons than the obvious Sunday services, but is dedicated ground for developing the whole person - just as Christianity should be.

Reunion Prep

2010-04-08T07:43:00.000-07:00

A more 'secure' man would think nothing of 'preparing' for a trip in which reunions with many old friends will ensue. No thoughts at all would dwell on fitness, hair color or how impressive the job description sounds. He would confidently invade the old stomping grounds, aware that maturity trumps expectations and that feeble attempts to "wow!" the social circle of yesteryear fall pathetically short. He'd dismiss with a casual wave any notions of "gearing up" for meeting ancient crushes whose attraction he once found validating, or spending extra 'mirror time' examining the thinning mane (*sigh*). With suave chuckles, he'd ignore any primal instincts to improve appearance, 'inflate' the career description or put his "best face forward."

Well, I am not that man.

I am not immune to fears that re-acquaintances, after replaying "the good ole' days" in their mind, will find the present specimen comparatively underwhelming; Or that the reunion will include such innocent phrases as, "You sure got gray," or "It's good that you're staying active at your age." I don't easily ignore the possibility of having someone look me up and down, then declare sheepishly, "the years have been kind." Nor it is lost on me that some might stumble through the compliment, "I heard you're still a Bible teacher... that's nice." Being a "secure man" is a rather fluid state that sets upon a man at some times, yet can elude him at others. Were I completely above such tendencies, I'd be performing no more push-ups this week than I was prior to planning "Nostalgia Tour 2010."

What can inoculate a middle-aged male from the need for affirmation from historic sources?... Present day sources.

There can be little doubt that I would be far more at risk of groping for approval from old buddies and flames were I not so reinforced (daily) by present friends and family. The wealth of affirming support and encouragement I receive in the present day borders on obscene. As a result, the 'insecure man' is made a little more 'secure' at any given moment due to the relational network. Spousal compliments are without guile, and kids are under no obligation to 'sugarcoat' their respect. Peers in present church and work circles do not convey disappointment or pity. Indeed, whether such affirmation is deserved or not (likely not), it is genuine enough to satiate the appetite for 'borrowed confidence' from exterior sources.

Nevertheless, there's nothing like a pending reunion with old friends to motivate one toward healthier habits. And as for how my career sounds when describing it to these 'sometime' peers? The choices are twofold:

1. Be proud to describe (accurately) the career you have.

2. Keep striving for the career you'd be proud to describe.

A hybrid of these two should work out fine. Besides... my teenage daughter thinks I'm cool anyway.

Dress for the Occasion

2010-04-02T05:50:00.000-07:00

What can I say? I was annoyed by having to spend a considerable sum to purchase the graduation regalia for the upcoming commencement for the college I teach at. I did not purchase it when at commencement from my own graduate school. I simply didn't, at the time, envision ever needing it again. "You might want to purchase your regalia if you plan to teach in an academic setting in the future," admonished the commencement coordinator from the Dallas Theological Seminary's registrar's office. However, I did not plan to be in an academic setting at the time. My goals lied elsewhere - a dizzying mystery considering the fit that academia is for me now. Nevertheless, I did not anticipate needing to purchase, for myself, a gown, hood, cap and tassel that would simply hang in the closet and remind me of a one-time event.

As a result, when it dawned on me yesterday that I am now a professor at the College of Biblical Studies, and that commencement was fast approaching, I was not a little irritated to realize that I need to buy that stuff now. Since much of one's regalia is specific to the degree they earned and the school they earned it at, I called the DTS registrar's office to find out how to purchase it now. They directed me to The Graduation Place based in Mesquite, Texas. Fortunately, they had a good deal on all the gear, so the expense was slightly less shocking than I feared. It will be shipped here well before the CBS commencement now, so I can breathe just a little easier.

The whole thing, though, got me thinking... that perhaps my annoyance is misplaced. The colorful robes, the hoods, tassels, 'Pomp and Circumstance,' does not exist for bringing attention to the educator. If it were, the educator could dismiss it as unnecessary hubris. Instead it is meant to bring attention to the educated. As well it should. It is the accomplishment of the struggling student that is the focus of the occasion. For this reason, I should actually exult in lauding those who, through diligent hard work, emerged victorious from the gauntlet of their education program to be recognized with the conferral of a degree. As a professor, it was a privilege for me to participate in their development and education, and that privilege carries through even to commencement.

So bring on the flashing robes and gaudy hoods... I'm ready to celebrate those whose striving has yielded the desired reward.

People of Heaven - People of the Earth

2010-03-28T18:03:00.000-07:00

What is the preferred nature of people who claim to follow Jesus Christ? At the very least it can be said that they strive to be like him. But what "trinkets" emerge when one "unpacks" the notion of acting like Jesus. The answers are many, but among the weightiest are those that take into account the mystery of his Incarnation. Reflecting further on the Incarnation of Jesus Christ should leave one more stymied the more it is contemplated. It is a mystery that simply cannot be fully understood, only confessed and appreciated. The doctrine of Incarnation primarily affirms that Jesus was fully God (in every way like the Father in essence, power and glory), and that he was simultaneously fully human (in every way like us, accept without sin). For this reason, the Incarnation teaches that he is the perfect One to represent the Divine will to humankind, AND the perfect one to represent humankind to Divine judgment. No better representative to us could have been sent; no better representative of us could have won Divine acceptance. He brings heaven to Earth, and in doing takes any from Earth to heaven that follow him. He's heavenly AND earthy.

For this reason, those that desire to be like him are called to a similar paradox. It is not to them to "escape" this life, pining away for the "sweet by and by." Nor is it to them to be so attached to this life as to forget where ultimate loyalty is properly directed. The tension is the thing. The goal is to maintain "dual citizenship" in Heaven and on Earth until Christ causes the two to meet fully. Therefore, to follow Christ is to pursue, with focused passion, heavenly AND earthy values. With souls in the clouds and feet in the dirt, Christians expand out into the world embodying the mystery of how heaven and Earth meet ("Christian" originally meant "little Christ"). They mystically enter heavenly courts in worship, and simultaneously express the elation conjured there with "earthy" elements of joy.

This is my reflection on the music our church frequently finds playing on the porch following the morning service. Instead of needing a "program" to schedule this, it occurs naturally. Mandolins, guitars and violins all emerge and the folk music fills the entire block. Neighbors peer out their front doors and muse over the joyous sounds traveling from around the corner. Passersby turn aside to see what manner of revelry is being conjured in the courtyard.

The folk songs come one after another. The tunes of the Earth flow freely. One envisions the same hands that pluck the strings also working the land, plowing the field, pulling weeds and trimming branches. These are the songs of those who appreciate honest work, changing seasons, community and cultural festivals. The dancing and clapping convey deep happiness that touches the entire human condition. It's heavenly joy expressed on Earth's "terms." It's intensely Christian.

These "people of Heaven" are also very much "people of the Earth." They demonstrate the mystery of the Incarnation, collectively participating in liturgies that ascend into the throne room of the Lord of Lords, but then seamlessly expressing the fullness of life gained there in ways firmly planted on the ground.

Accepting "the Mark"

2010-02-18T13:02:00.000-08:00

Among many fundamentalist Christians, frenzy over end times prophecy reached a fever pitch in the 80's and 90's. Paranoia concerning world events grew as the various political spheres appeared increasingly destabilized. The instinct to align current news with certain passages of the Bible led many conference speakers to peer into their crystal ball (i.e. ambiguous sections of biblical prophecy) and speculate on what world events could be expected soon.

One of the greatest concerns raised by fundamentalists was the nature of "the mark of the Beast." Supposedly, a future Anti-Christ would polarize the world into two groups: those that would swear allegiance to him and those that would not. According to this theory, loyalty to this Anti-Christ would be made evident by a "mark" on their body - either on the hand or the forehead. This mark would be necessary for conducting any commerce, be it buying or selling. The paranoia was palpable. Normally quite reasonable people became concerned about using this new thing called an "ATM card" because of how it could become "the mark of the Beast" at some future date. Fanciful speculations abounded regarding what form "the mark" might take (most of which would now be considered antiquated technology). Many who claimed to follow Christ spent most of their energy seemingly concerned about how NOT to advance the agenda of "the Anti-Christ."

Grotesquely missing from such hysteria is the concern for what mark I WANT, instead of the "mark" I don't want.

Ash Wednesday services were held in liturgical, Christian churches throughout the world yesterday. From those services, followers of Jesus Christ emerged with the "ashes of contrition" forming the sign of the Cross on their head. The symbolism of ashes as an element of lamentation has precedent dating back to such obvious biblical examples of David, Daniel and even the Gentiles of Nineveh in response to the preaching of Jonah. The ashes convey the sentiments of lowliness, of shame and of grief over the effects of personal, familial, national and even global sin. Rightly does Ash Wednesday inaugurate the season of Lent, in which contemplative reflection is focused on one's need for a Savior, and what is it about my sin that required his violent death in my place to achieve my redemption?

Christians devoted to the God who is, that sought to worship in this manner conducted since ancient times, left with a "mark." How irrelevant is "the mark of the Beast" made by receiving "the mark of the Christ?" What concern must we allot to a supposed "Beast" when the One who can extinguish said "Beast" leaves his very own mark on us?

Having received the "mark" of the Savior, I was pleased that the priest recognized this as my first time participating in this catholic practice. "I hope you don't mind," he later shared, "but when it's someone's first time I like to give them a really good one" (referring to the cross now smeared on my forehead). Mind?! It was incredibly endearing to me to accept "the mark" vigorously applied. I regret that such an event occurs merely once a year (but such is true of many events in the liturgical calendar). One might think of waiting a year for the next such moment, but then would be quickly distracted by the next meaningful event in the Christian calendar to follow.

Accepting "the Mark" of Christ is a joy and a privilege. One does not mark themselves, but are marked by the priest. This provides a living picture of God's sovereign prerogative to "mark" whom he chooses for his own glory. Nevertheless, leaving the church, I did not want to stop anywhere, but instead to go straight home. Since "the mark" is given (NOT earned), it cannot represent anything to boast about. It is not something to go out and show everyone. Close relatives and friends see "the mark" on you, but it's greatest power is seen in the mirror. Peering at my reflection, it sinks in that due to no merit of my own I've been "marked" by Christ. "From dust you came, and to dust you shall return," says the priest when smearing the ash on my head... and because of "the Mark" I am Christ's until then and beyond.

The Temple Archives

2010-02-09T10:19:00.000-08:00

Life in "the temple" is full of study and rigorous training. The ever present learning philosophy of "go and find out!" never abates. Years ago the parallels between training martial arts and the normal Christian life were discovered to be glaringly self-evident. Ever since then, living as a Christian can best be approached through the "lens" of training in an ancient temple. Be it the Shaolin temple of China centuries ago, or the "prophet schools" of Old Testament Israel, these training arenas serve as the paradigmatic analogy for developing as a man in all facets of life (i.e. faith, family, etc.). As a result, it is often enjoyable to reflect on how current activities or events point at "life in the temple" (hence the blog title). In essence, one is always training. There is no rest. One simply must decide to what end and for what abilities they are training, but the training goes on nonetheless.

For this reason, it is a pleasure to presently work at developing the library for a educational institution. To search out and select the finest resources needed for the development of students conjures elating thrills of hunting for "big game." Acquiring the right tools for the education system is very satisfying. Images of equipping the "training arena" with adequate instruments spring forth from sentiments developed during days spent teaching kung fu. I'm often asked if a unifying theme runs through the seemingly divergent pursuits of library acquisitions and, oh say, martial arts. There is indeed a common thread of "training" that binds together all of these pursuits. The one who exercises the body at the gym has a great deal in common with the one that exercises the mind at the library. Being charged with purchasing selected volumes for the library's collections would parallel a corresponding responsibility to purchase quality weight machines for 24 Hour Fitness. In each case, careful attention is paid to finding those tools that the trainee will benefit from the most.

In addition to the above explanation, there remains the mysterious love of the "training arena." Simply to be involved in the workings of "the temple" brings inexplicable satisfaction. Tangentially, it carries rumblings of the ultimate goal of the professor's career. The education environment is magical for the learning that is facilitated there. The local university campus invokes the tinglings of "sacred space." Laboring to see "the temple" well resourced is part and parcel to the education "calling." The temple archives are an integral part of the temple's function to train up those who will leave it and serve the world. Walking between the stacks, I reach out and brush my hands over the volumes. The electricity sparks off of the spine labels into my fingertips. I feel the connection to the rest of the training arena. The "temple" is alive with its pulsating mission to develop people. "I love it. God help me, I do love it so."

True Fun is Hard Work

2010-02-01T07:59:00.000-08:00

"If you never fall down, that means you're not trying anything new."

That's the pearl of wisdom I tried to impart to my boys as we skated away from the scene of my downfall (literally). With the back of my jeans and sweater covered in ice, I had the pride that uniquely belongs to those who attempt things that involve the risk of embarrassment or injury. What's more? This inglorious display was within the context of having fun with my two sons. I was particularly proud of my youngest son in how, as we skated together, he was at the ready to help his "old man" up after each spill.

The principle demonstrated in this episode is that all true fun is hard work. It takes effort, struggle, and pleasure in one's exertion. There's a connection between elation and the body's involvement in activity that is summarized in the category of "fun." This cannot be achieved as a stationary observer. Whether enjoying a movie or a performing artist, the entertainment value really needs another term other than "fun;" that should be reserved for those activities that require movement, adrenaline and even potential exhaustion. This understanding of "fun" cannot be restricted merely to team sports, although they would make good examples. This includes such other recreation activities as hiking, biking, kayaking, skiing, swimming, etc. The list could be surprisingly long with practices that move the body, spend energy and conjure the euphoric elation of holistic pleasure, albeit without the pressures of competition.

For this reason, I prefer to reserve the "fullest" meaning of "fun" for those activities that are also hard work. When asked at work this week about the sling on my right arm, I replied, "It was for a worthy cause... having fun with my kids."

Quest for Fire

2010-01-30T06:43:00.000-08:00

Rule #1: You do not talk about Pipe Club.

Rule #2: You DO NOT TALK about Pipe Club!

Rule #3: If you absolutely love Pipe Club... you have to write. (The last one is self-imposed).

The Pipe Club at Holy Trinity has a mysterious and elusive "inner circle" comprised of "charter members" of the Pipe Club. It has never been explained what the benefits are to being a "charter member" other than the obvious bragging rights. Nevertheless, such is the status of charter members that those who are not "charter members" seek how they might become one. Unlike most clubs wherein the status of "charter member" is bestowed only upon those present since its inception, the Pipe Club is much more inclusive, with the charter members willing to receive into their ranks a candidate that has offered an acceptable bribe.

Among the grand tails carried on and recounted by the old fellows, stories of past bribes hold the importance of tribal mythology. It was suggested once that these be collected in a written anthology, so that they might be remembered accurately. This, however, was quickly dismissed as a misunderstanding of oral tradition in primitive cultures. Indeed, each time the charter member spins the proverbial yarn, how they presently tell it is as important as the kernel of history behind what is told. The hearer is not to so much be curious about what "actually happened" as they are to be enthralled by how the "elder tribesman" recounts it now. For this reason, last night's "bribe" will undoubtedly find its place in the canons of charter membership lore - the event swelling in grandeur upon each subsequent telling.

On this occasion, the "bribe" was an outdoor, portable fire pit. While it had the pragmatic benefit of warming those scooted up close (temperatures had dropped considerably last night), its value was far greater than could be detected by outstretched hands. It had the effect of gathering men into one circle than normally might stand around in several. We sat facing one another, the dancing flames illuminating the wide eyes and full smiles. One man thoughtfully nurses his "Manhattan," considering the words of the peer to his right, while another man throws his head back in boisterous laughter due to the joke told across from him. This indeed was a good "bribe," and the one that brought it was inducted by unanimous agreement of the charter members present.

Consider how much deeper meanings of the oft misunderstood term "fellowship" are on display when encircled around the open flames. Is it merely the heat on a cold night that draws the men into such a tight ring around the fire pit? Can the temperature alone account for the shoulder to shoulder dialogue, the raised glasses and nods in agreement? I question whether the need to warm up can solely explain why the fire pit became the center point of the gathering.

As the flames perform their hypnotic "dance," the men gather around to pay homage. Mesmerized by the beauty of it (and perhaps aided only slightly by our drinks), the stories spill forth with manly exuberance. There is something ancient, primal and attractive about the fire. People groups of all times and places have found it a center piece of community. From the prehistoric hunter-gatherer to the Texas Aggie (No, Longhorns. Don't even say it! They are not the same), there is a drive, a quest, to build the fire that gathers the tribe, the fraternity, the community. The medieval bardic fires share common dynamics with the fire pits of the camp retreat. Such fires are lit even on hot summer nights when the heat is not necessary. The light attracts. Its "dance" hypnotizes.

Consider the roles of fire in biblical literature. Yahweh calls Moses to hear from him as he speaks from a burning bush. The Lord later will call the Hebrews to follow him around the wilderness while appearing as fire. Fire is his response to decisively settle the issue on Mt. Carmel. Fire consumes the sacrifices offered in worship. It's departure signals to the Israelites that the Lord has "left the building." It's return over the heads of the Apostles sends the corresponding signal of his return to them. Rightly do we adorn the church with red cloths, and our clergy with red vestments to celebrate matters pertaining to the obvious work of the Spirit. Fire is a motif so frequently used by God to perform his work to, for and among people, we are left with the reasonable conclusion: fire is spiritual.

Whether it activates something mystical in the human spirit, or it conducts some mysterious work of God's Spirit, fire is spiritual. For this reason and more, the "bride" offered to the Pipe Club this time was deemed "worthy." In our quest to capture and celebrate all things so inexplicably masculine, fire was good - fire was our friend. It was a gift that will reap untold future benefits as the men gather around the dancing flames to relate in elemental fashion once more.

Speaking about Groups

2010-01-22T16:17:00.000-08:00

Among the worst instincts that can be observed in our society is the habit of speaking about people through artificially constructed group designations. In order to mask the intellectual laziness inherent in one's broad sweeping statements about society, arbitrary demographic categories or occupation groupings must be used in rhetoric. Seldom does this advance more understanding among people. Instead it has the unintended (and at times even intended) consequence of pitting people against people so that the ensuing discontent will serve to the speaker's benefit. It is a sinister practice of the pseudo-intellectual attempting to persuade the unreflective to their cause.

There are many ways this is seen in present society. Whenever I am conversing with someone and they say that "African-Americans feel that....," or that "Hispanic-Americans think this way....," or that "White-Americans assume that...." My instinct is to ask them, "really? You know someone who thinks/feels/assumes that, and they told this is so because of their group?" The assumption is that what can be said about the group will correspondingly be true about anyone who appears to fit into that group. Supposedly, this practice of speaking about groups can be used to better facilitate understanding among groups, combating ignorance and hate historic felt between groups. At this time it therefore seems honest for me to confess that...

I hate this practice of speaking about groups.

Some may think that this practice can be used to reverse the effects and legacy of racism. On the contrary though, by borrowing this rhetorical practice from classic racism it instead perpetuates the same only with different labels. Take, for example, the practice of speaking about people that would identify themselves in the African-American demographic on a census. It is a horrific reality that some in history have pre-judged such people in negative ways simply because of skin color. An entire set of uncomplimentary assumptions were entertained of people whose skin color, cultural history and expressive habits differed from the one talking about "those black people." This was an evil that was more abundant in America years ago than it is now, but still can be found if one looks hard enough.

But consider the other side of that same coin...

If someone tells me something complimentary about "African-Americans," or something informative meant to help facilitate my understanding so that I will appreciate "the African-American experience," though the intentions might be considered less sinister, they nonetheless perpetuate the myth of knowing anything about a person by means of the group I have decided they fit into. Suppose that I read a book that expounds the historical-cultural experience of African-Americans in 1960's Mississippi. Am I to also assume that the next person I speak to that shares that common pigment also shares in that experience? To what extent should I think I "know about" someone simply because I have read about their "group?" Is this not also a racist practice? Can it be labeled any less racist simply because my intentions seem less sinister that the Klan member who also claims to "know about black people?"

I once had a shocking experience at seminary. The "adviser to African-American students" told me in a conversation (after I objected to the notion of thinking we "know about" people without actually getting to know them), "...but I DO know you. I know all about you." When I countered, "How can you say that?" He asserted, "Because the race in power is always easier to know than the race out of power." I was shocked, and dismayed. That such racism can be entertained at a theological graduate school was disconcerting, to say the least. Is racism made any less destructive simply by shifting the categories? I say, "no." The practice of judging groups, and assuming that any given person fits in that "group" by mere virtue of skin color or accent, is a scourge of society and a symptom of universal depravity. I experienced it at seminary, just as others who look different from me have experienced it in history as well.

Yet this practice of judging by the group is not restricted merely to racism. "Class-ism" also is used as a political tool to pit Americans against one another as well. The groupings are not racial as much as they are vocational. Consumers are pitted against producers. Bank customers are pitted against bank executives. Health care patients pitted against health care providers. Workers against employers. The discontent created by pitting this group against that group is an old tactic that the swarthy politician can exploit for acquiring power. Historically, this method of "surfing the wave" of social angst has been skillfully executed by many a fearful despot. How alarming it is to witness our current President wield this weapon with the precision of a "statist" samurai. I sit with mouth agape at his recent speeches in which demonized "groups" are targeted as the enemy of other "groups" to which he seeks to appeal (bankers, insurance companies, etc.). Are these industries not populated by Americans as well? Are we to believe that all who work among these "groups" deserve the criticism spouted by the President?

"Statism" (a catch-all term coined by Mark Levin in his recent work Liberty and Tyranny: A Conservative Manifesto meant to include socialism, communism, fascism, etc.), has seen many figures throughout history rise to power by means of pitting one "group" of society against another, and offering themselves as the solution. "This group is to blame for your troubles" (so goes the speech), "and I will fight that group for you." The problems come when one actually knows someone within that group that does not fit the description. After all, it's much easier to judge by the group than to think of the individuals within said "group," or better still to know someone within that group through relationships and conversation. Nevertheless, capitalizing on such intellectual laziness is a powerful exercise, and very tempting to employ.

My hope is that such vacuous tripe spewed in our society will be eclipsed by more thoughtful voices that account for individuals, and speak less about groups. Neat categories of racial, vocational or religious groupings cannot begin to account for the immense diversity to be found at every turn. Skin color is absolutely the least I can know about a person. For that matter, other group labels are hardly more helpful. It's disappointing to witness our elected officials traffic in these labels so fluently, but at least I can teach my children correctly, and realize that each individual person is someone I should purpose to know nothing about until they reveal their character by word and deed.

Send Them Out to Play

2010-01-17T14:20:00.000-08:00

I lament with a grieving sigh the number of sports that children seemingly can no longer simply go outside and play. Sparsely found throughout neighborhoods are the sandlots of yesteryear wherein easy baseball games could spontaneously be organized among friends. Growing up, my own neighborhood had a vacant lot where bike jumps could be constructed. Caked in mud, my friends and I would return from the track with the satisfaction written on our face of having worked hard at our fun.

Many more stories could emerge from my childhood regarding "the jungle" just upstream from our home on the Sacramento River. Because of the varying seasonal flow levels for the river, there was a significant swath of land upstream from our home, yet downstream from the Cypress Street bridge, that could never be developed. The Sacramento River flooded this area annually, if not more often. The vegetation overgrowth, the lack of development, the stagnant bogs, bamboo and vines all made it seem like a far away "jungle." How many epic adventures this "jungle" facilitated cannot be counted.

Taking turns being Rambo, G.I. Joe, Chuck Norris* or Indiana Jones, our imaginations flourished with perceived dangers around every tree (I know I listed Chuck Norris among a catalog of mythological characters, but none who know young boys or has been one would reasonably object). Even when a long cherished vacant lot across from my home finally saw a house built on it, other "uncharted territories" abounded. At the end of the street remained a low depression that simply could never be built on. Therefore, the tree in its center stood unmolested throughout my childhood. It's majestic branches housed the finest of tree forts. Nearby a mythic mound of blackberry vines ominously overshadowed the ditch's base. Only the bravest dared to attempt paving a tunnel to its center with clippers and machete. Six Flags is for sissies. We were real men.

It's not that girls weren't allowed. It's just that women's lib goes only so far. At 12 years old they may want equal rights to the stereo and the phone, but they draw the line at blackberry vine thorns, murky swamp water, and the glistening sheen of adolescent male sweat conjured through an honest day's work constructing the world's greatest hideout. With hammer, saw and nails in hand, we marched down to "The Tree" to craft the ever more grand fortress. The steps were secure and the platform was high enough to boast a commanding view of the cul de sac. From this vantage point, one could easily knock a Pepsi can off the nearest mailbox with your BB gun (who didn't have one?).

These were the battlefields of countless acorn wars, fearless knights repelling the barbarian hordes and races through foliage without concern for being struck by whipping vines (besides... chicks dig scars anyway). My parents paid little mind to the dangers inherent in our activities unless a neighbor complained (we all feared the disapproval of our fathers regarding our exploits - that kept it within reason), or unless someone was actually injured.*

*As an aside, it must be mentioned that the term "injury" is relative. Scraped knees, falling hard on the ground or lacerations that draw blood can only be called "injuries" if they interrupt play. Otherwise, you play through it. "Oh man! My mom's gonna be mad. That's the second pair of pants I've ruined this week." For the most part, mom is appreciated for slapping the band aid on so we can get back at it.

What happened to the "the jungle" though? Where's "The Tree?" Where's the bike track that I wiped out so bad on that I laid in the mud for an entire 73 seconds to make sure I was fine?

Now it seems parents are so careful, so scared, so concerned over the safety of every little activity. How miraculous that any children survived toddler stages prior to the age of padding up every corner in the house. Instead of encouraging children to simply get out of the house and play to the hilt, money must be raised to afford the sports league with its list of expenses. Xbox and Wii in the living room are replacing the dirt and danger of the vacant lot. This is a lamentable trend that, in my opinion, is weakening our children as surely as junk food is tied to the national issues of obesity found everywhere in the news. Kids don't need a video game control as much as they need a hammer. They don't need a mouse as much as they walking stick. The joystick for the couch is more dangerous than the hockey stick for the street. For the cost of most video games, parents could well supply kids to get outside and work up a sweat.

"Send them out to play," I say. That computer game, Wii, Xbox, or playstation is like junk food - an occasional delicacy that can ruin their health if not heavily regulated. Kick them off the couch and out of the house. It won't kill them. On the contrary, they might just live life more to the full.

What do you Mean when you Say, "Equal?"

2010-01-09T14:10:00.000-08:00

My recent examination of issues related to women performing combat ops in the U.S. military was actually part of a much broader subject of how one views the sexes, and what the differences between them means for society. Certainly no one denies there to be any difference between men and women. At the very least, physiological differences are acknowledged, even if no others are admitted. However, in conversing over the implications of differences beyond mere anatomical features, some terms must be agreed upon in order to advance the dialogue. The following is an explanation of the terms I have found helpful for discussing the subject:

Egalitarianism - This view holds that the sexes are equal in value, and that this equality has rendered further differences (beyond mere physiological features) to be largely irrelevant. Functions of domestic and societal roles are by and large culturally conditioned. This translates into a functional interchangeability between the sexes as it relates to responsibilities in the home and in society. Domestic roles or occupations outside the home can be pursued by either sex, for there is no rationale by which any role would be considered out of reach, or inappropriate for one or the other. Leadership in the home is the realm of either sex, or it can be shared between the spouses. The egalitarian view would not find a legitimate reason for assigning leadership responsibility to the mother or the father. Equality has rendered traditional roles archaic. Tradition is viewed with suspicion because of the manner in which one sex has unfairly dominated the other in history. Societal evolution and modern enlightenment requires that people progress beyond such paradigms of "inequality." This can be summarized as undifferentiated equality - no different roles for the sexes in home or society can be legitimately entertained because of the equality of the sexes.

Some examples of how this outlook toward humanity has been applied are roles of leadership in church, the home or even military service. The traditional domination of some societal or domestic functions by men is viewed as the unenlightened inequities of yesteryear. In Christian circles, this is seen as the trajectory of biblical ethics made evident by the Apostle Paul's assertion: "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female–for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" - Gal 3:28. Egalitarianism is often applied to traditional roles of authority, but is demonstrated also in the proliferation of woman in other roles traditionally reserved for men because of their particular demands (i.e. police, firefighter, military, etc.).

Complimentarianism - This view holds that the sexes are indeed equal in value, but that the differences between them are significant for understanding created purpose. The differences between the sexes "compliment" each other to complete the whole picture and potential of humanity. The differences are not seen as impediments to equality, but instead are to be celebrated in the quest to fulfill the unique benefits of manhood and womanhood in the home and society at large. Men, fulfilling roles seeming to have been particularly assigned to them by creation and history, also champion the necessity and value of women doing likewise. The rationale for these particular roles are taken from both religious texts and historical precedent, but by no means retards the mutual admiration the sexes have for one another. Men fulfill responsibilities that seem "delegated" them to by God, soberly considering the weightiness of these functions, while admiring the particular and vital functions "delegated" to women that they are uniquely gifted to perform. In this manner, neither sex desires to be the other, for they extol the necessity of the opposite sex while embracing the functions of their own. Therefore, this view can be summarized as differentiated equality - the different roles "assigned" to both sexes are equally valuable precisely because of the equality of both sexes.

Some examples of this are in those roles that traditionally have found both men and woman dominant in them (religiously, domestically, socially, culturally, etc.). The folly has been in the slow devaluing of female-dominant roles, forcing woman to seek male-dominant roles to feel equal. The specific applications of the complimentarian model is tricky, for the Bible seemingly addresses differentiated equality primarily with regard to spiritual leadership in the community of faith (be it a home or a church). For this reason complimentarians see the role of spiritual leadership falling normatively upon men (as a burden of service more than a privilege), meaning that among the unchanging qualifications of a pastor are that they be male (ironically, while complimentarians see the role of pastor falling only to men, they have no problem with women performing the comparatively secular roles of President of the United States or British Prime Minister).

Chauvinism - This view is seldom admitted to because so few circles can be found in which it is socially acceptable in western culture. Rare is the man (if they can be found at all) that will confess their chauvinism outright. Instead they will simply speak as though women are inferior in various and sundry ways, that their influence has weakened society and that their contribution is negligible compared to the troubles associated with accommodating them. To this brand of male, women are necessary for sexual gratification and the bearing of children (oh, and throw in some domestic duties for good measure), but little else. They truly do not find women to be of "equal" value to men, but instead see women as functional necessities that must be managed by masculine power. Differentiated inequality best describes this position. To imagine women barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen is a little impractical; since without at least some comfortable shoes to protect her feet, her life of service to him could be interrupted by injury.

Feminism - This view has common ground with chauvinism in that it also holds the opposite sex to be inferior. The ills perpetrated on human history and current society are entirely attributable to male abuse. For this reason, men are seen as a necessary evil for conceiving children, but it would be preferable for medical technology to find an alternative to the traditional method of egg fertilization. Women are superior in their capacity for virtue, with men being more prone to vice. Their macro analysis of the culture finds that man must be progressively marginalized for society to evolve. For this reason women not only can perform all roles traditionally assigned to men, but can most assuredly execute them better. No difference in role is considered because all roles are better filled by women than men. For this reason, feminism is the view of undifferentiated inequality.

Ironically, the feminist would acknowledge there exists roles that only women can perform, but would not acknowledge the existence of any roles that only men can perform. Mothers are absolutely necessary for child rearing, but fathers are an unnecessary luxury. A woman in political leadership can supposedly relate to all people, but a man in the same position is said to be unable to relate to women. A woman who preaches supposedly reaches a broad audience, but the male preacher is said to easily alienate the women in attendance.

These four views fall on a continuum (borrowing common terms of "right" and "left" to connote socially conservative and liberal trends respectively (click to view larger image):

Along this line chauvinism falls to the "far right," while feminism lands on the "far left." The middle ground is occupied by complimentarianism and egalitarianism in that they share the assertion of equality between the sexes. The continuum is necessary not only for the sake of a visual aid, but also because clear lines of demarcation separating these categories can be very difficult to discern.

Some that are called "feminists" are actually egalitarians. They are desirous of equal rights for women to vote, receive promotions based on their merits and achieve unfettered success in the areas they pursue, but do not actually view men as inferior to women. For this reason, many men are egalitarians that mistakenly call themselves "feminists." They believe in undifferentiated equality, and champion women participating in any role they choose, regardless of how historical traditions have addressed a particular issue.

To confuse the matter further, many complimentarians are accused of being "chauvinists." Because the egalitarian (to say nothing of the feminist) cannot accept a category of differentiated equality, the complimentarian's assertion that the sexes can be both equal and designed to fulfill different roles is seen at best as nonsense, and at worst as promoting inequality. To counter this the complimentarian strongly asserts differentiation, which sounds like chauvinism to those "left" of the center. However, the complimentarian understands that there still exists those to the right of them on the continuum. Real chauvinists still populate some religious and secular circles alike. They can be detected in church, in seminary or in any other gathering where they feel safe to share their true feelings about women. Knowing that chauvinists both believe in the inferiority of women and make life much more difficult for them, complimentarians bristle at their continued existence. Seeing the equality (albeit differentiated) of women as a cause worth fighting for, complimentarian men challenge chauvinists' perceptions and seek to limit the damage they can cause.

Parenthetically, the men of my church are complimentarian in that they appear to champion differentiated roles for the sexes, but will not countenance a chauvinist. Never has a single critical word been spoken at The Pipe Club concerning wives, for indeed it seems likely that the men present to hear it would, rightly indignant, set upon the erring brother with strong rebukes for his folly. Such reactions were observable from seminary professors who often so strongly asserted the value of the feminine influence in the Church that they seemed almost egalitarian to me. When I asked them if they were, their response was, "No. I'm complimentarian in my outlook of humanity. I'm just reacting to the chauvinist jerks that still seem to slither into this school now and then."

As a complimentarian, I'm not above personalizing the issue, seeing egalitarianism as devaluing roles that my wife (as a woman) is uniquely designed to perform, and chauvinism as devaluing her altogether. The egalitarian, I simply want to help gently correct their folly. The chauvinist, I'd like to correct not quite as gently.

Theologically, chauvinism and feminism share a common heresy: the belief in concentrated depravity. The effects of the great fall of humankind are universal. No one is exempt from the need for a Savior and to be redeemed from the effects and consequences of sin. The depravity of man touches all and influences all: this is the classic doctrine of "universal depravity." No one is more or less in need of saving than anyone else. We're all crooked deep down. The chauvinist sees the female as experiencing more of "the Fall's" degenerative effects. Consequently, they see the world as better managed when the negative influence of women is marginalized. Likewise, the feminist views the male similarly. Both see depravity as more "concentrated" in the opposite sex than in their own. This is also the root of racism: the intuitive assumption that the depravity of man is more concentrated in another race than in one's own.

Dismissing chauvinism and feminism for the gross errors that they are, a civil conversation should ensue between the remaining categories since both egalitarians and complimentarians agree on the equality of the sexes. Where they diverge is whether the differences inherent in those sexes translate into differentiated roles for certain spheres of responsibility in society. Will the egalitarian believe that the complimentarian they're conversing with is NOT a chauvinist simply for asserting differentiated roles? Will the complimentarian extend the courtesy to the egalitarian they're talking to NOT to assume that they're a rabid feminist simply because they desire undifferentiated roles? Civility is a prized condition for these conversations. If we could agree on some terms with which to have the conversation, that might go far in achieving a dialogue beneficial to all.

In the meantime, it is truly difficult to know what someone means when they say they strive for "equality." The feminist says they desire "equality" for women, but in truth likely sees the superiority of women far better (since men are indeed inherently inferior). The chauvinist speaks of "equality" for women in that they should also be allowed basic human services (the servant to the male must be kept fully functional after all). The egalitarian calls for "equality" between the sexes, confusing value and function, and desiring interchangeability between them (since some roles seem more important that others, denying a woman any of the more "important" roles is to perpetuate inequality). The complimentarian, however, sees "equality" of value among diverse functions (both mothers and fathers are equally necessary in their unique roles), and roles that seem gender specific are to be celebrated for demonstrating the necessity of either sex... This is the way the world best works.

Band of Sisters

2010-01-07T07:12:00.000-08:00

During a recent visit to a local bookstore, a book title caught my eye. It was entitled "Band of Sisters," and was an expose' of women in combat, fighting the war in Iraq. My thoughts immediately went to the debate of yesteryear that wrestled with the notion of my country willingly sending women into combat roles, and wondered what occasion marked the end of that debate. The idea of military women in combat roles seems such a given now as to seemingly leave any arguments against it as archaic as the phonograph. The subject is not merely women serving in the military, for indeed World War II saw many non-combat support roles flawlessly executed by patriotic women. The subject in question is regarding sending women into combat duties, where it is their job to both face potential death and destruction from the enemy and to deliver it to the enemy.

(I realize that by offering the following opinion, I risk alienating myself from friends that hold a more egalitarian view. Hopefully, they will not judge me too harshly for my position.)

It is unfortunate that the debate has seemingly ended, for I consider the practice of assigning combat roles to women among the more immoral acts of current military policy for the United States. Certainly this is strong language, but I do not offer it as hyperbole-for-effect.

Many have sought to argue for and against women in combat based on various foundations. Some have argued for or against based on "capability" grounds. Those "for" argue that women are just as capable as men are in performing the various demands of combat ops. The examples range from a woman's ability (just like a man would) to press missile launch buttons to Demi Moore's depiction of a woman qualifying to serve on a Navy SEAL team in the 1997 film "G.I. Jane." Those "against" argue the sustained physical demands on soldiers and Marines in the combat theater of operations, suggesting that men and woman differ in average strength and endurance for such circumstances. One gives examples to support their position, but then is countered by examples to the contrary.

A similar "back and forth" occurs with the "morale" arguments, debating as to whether co-ed units, squadrons or ships enjoy the necessary combat readiness that they should when also dealing with inter-sex dynamics in close quarters. Examples are offered both "for" and "against" to support the case. Some suggest that combat readiness is compromised because these co-ed dynamics intrude, while others counter (understandably) that military professionalism and discipline can render supposed intrusive inter-sex dynamics irrelevant.

Other categories include the folly of elevating diversity over excellence as a driving value in recruitment (recent articles in Proceedings showcase this discussion), as well as the influencing physiology of the soldier being a factor (pregnancy, menstruation, etc.). Some of the issues make good cases, but ultimately are susceptible to the quagmire of competing examples. Instead of engaging one of these, I choose instead to approach the issue from a position of "aesthetics."

This would seem a strange foundation upon which to argue the traditional normative role of men as voluntary warriors, with the exception being women fighting to defend their homes. Nevertheless, I am persuaded that a sense of creation aesthetics will peer back into history and find that differentiation between the normative and exceptional roles regarding combat duties find the U.S. military's policy to be a stranger invention still. The "aesthetic" argument is that war is "hell"... it is ugly (in its grandest sense). It involves the destruction of an enemy's machinery and personnel until they are persuaded not to fight anymore. For all the virtues that might be perceivable or displayed during battle (i.e. valor, courage, leadership, wisdom, compassion, sacrifice, duty, camaraderie, etc.), the occurrence of war (even when necessary) is ultimately a tragic byproduct of human depravity, the extinction of which is part of the Christan's hope in Christ.

It's ugly because of what it does to the human body.
It's ugly because of what it does to human society.
It's ugly because of what it does to the human conscience.
It's ugly because of what it does to human relationships.
It's ugly because of what it does to the human soul.

By way of contrast, there is great beauty woven throughout God's creation that must be cultivated and championed. Physical appearance is but a sliver of the beauty created by God to reflect his glory throughout all things. Rightly do we see the majestic mountains, the vast plains, the blue oceans or lush forest and gasp, "That's beautiful." However, beauty is also expressed in human relations through gentleness, redemption, forgiveness, joy, love, understanding and service. Beauty is the subtle difference between a house and a home. It's detectable when a child goes to sleep content and loved. It's evident when restraint prevails over rage. It can be "felt" when "all seems right with the world" in the presence of a love one. It communicates the way things ought to be. Being created by God, we intuitively know when something is beautiful and displays a thing the way God created it to be - uncorrupted and glorious.

Antithetically, war is ugly. Therefore, those that prosecute it long to escape it and return to something (anything) beautiful. Historically (both in world and biblical history), "warriors" have been those skilled in prosecuting the ugliness of battle, allowing others to remain behind and preserve the place of beauty. Normatively, these two complimentary responsibilities have been divided along gender lines. Although some men have perversely reveled in war, enjoying its carnage and mayhem, others have legitimately seen it as a necessary service that must be performed and then set aside when completed. The "warrior" goes off/away/afar to war so that others will not have to. As it has been normatively a male role, the men fight so that the women do not have to debase themselves with this bloody, gross and ugly chore. Indeed women such as Deborah and Jael (Judges 4) are seen as the exception made necessary when too few men would fulfill their duty. Indeed it is ugly when the caretakers of those things beautiful in society must leave those responsibilities to make up for a shortage of servants in the field.

But our society does not see it this way. Instead of war being the ugly obligation for which men must become warriors for a time, it is seen as the repository of glories that should not be denied women seeking to assert equal value in society. For the women to maintain the place of beauty to which the men might return after the ugliness of war has ended is seen as oppressing them from enjoying equality. Such has been the madness of devaluing all things traditionally feminine in our society that those tasked with preserving beauty in the world desire to live the same ugly existence as the warrior.

Where is the revulsion traditionally seen when an aggressor has so overrun the defenses of a "fort" that even the women inside must defend themselves? Is there not a wrongness inherent in the guardians of beauty having to soil themselves with the ugliness of battle? Where is the outrage historically conjured when the enemy engages not only the soldiers, but "the women and children too?" Our culture appears to be devolving into one which would instead exclaim, "they attacked the children, but the women should have taken care of it. They're equal after all."

The quest for equality has taken on a foolish pursuit for indistinctness. Supposing that to be equal means to be interchangeable, societal engineers have so devalued those responsibilities tasked to women, that many women now seek responsibilities tasked to men in order to feel valuable. The idea of women as voluntary warriors deviates from centuries of western (and even biblical) history, and represents an immoral devaluing of the beauty that warriors should seek to return to.

I hear the arguments about women being just as capable as men to fight wars, but I have never thought this was a capability issue. I know that one can always find women just as capable of warfighting as any man. In addition, I've heard the "morale" issue raised, knowing that this can be overcome with military discipline and training. The physiology issue can be addressed easily enough in the logistics of personnel needs as well. For me, this has always been a moral issue. Since creation women have (not exclusively, but more than men do) carried the mantle of God's beauty, tasked with reflecting it in their own person, as well as in everything they influence in the home and in society. That our country encourages them to enter the ugliness of war demonstrates two great tragedies: (1) preserving home and culture is now considered "beneath" these women, and (2) their presence in the battlefield might have been made necessary because too few men are willing to fulfill their responsibility as warriors.

I apologize to my egalitarian friends (particularly those women who have already succumbed to the folly of assuming equal value means interchangeable duty) that are offended by my position. My desire is not to slight you personally, but my conviction is that war is an ugliness men should not impose upon women given the chance to spare them of its horrors. To think nothing of bringing women into the ranks of warriors, creating a "band of sisters," is an immoral affront to millenia of both male and female responsibilities regarding war and peace. Let women fully embrace their power to cultivate the beauty of God in the home, in the workplace, in culture and society as a whole, and let men fulfill their responsibility to prosecute war in such a way that its ugliness does not overcome the beauty that must come after.

One-upmanship

2010-01-05T11:18:00.000-08:00

"Anything you can do,
I can do better.
I can do anything
Better than you."

I have recently become rather sensitive to a phenomenon of interpersonal interaction that to me now appears so rampant as to demand why it has taken until now for me to become so repulsed by it. As a result, I'm concerned that I might have frequently committed this faux pas without realizing it. It is the practice of offering, unsolicited, an "I'll do you one better" response to just about any comment. Seriously, we humans are so depraved that we instinctively want to add to anyone's news of achievement with "I do more," or "I know someone who does more."

Consider all the ways this type of response gets fit into a conversation:

Comment: "I ran a mile this morning."
Response: "My friend runs three miles every morning."

Comment: "I was glad to complete college."
Response: "I got a 4.0 all through college."

Comment: "My car is pleasant to drive."
Response: "My car blows all others away."

Comment: "I'm glad my children are learning so much."
Response: "My child is an honor student."

Comment: "Our church has about 50 people."
Response: "Our church has 1,000 people."

Comment: "We watch some sports at home on TV."
Response: "The game looked great on our 30 inch, plasma screen in HD."

Comment: "I completed my M.Div at seminary ABC."
Response: "I earned my Th.M. at seminary XYZ."

Comment: "I feel great after losing a little weight."
Response: "I look great after losing more weight."

Comment: "I was glad I found a suitable outfit at WalMart."
Response: "I just went shopping at Saks."

The list could go on and on. I shutter to think how often I have unthinkingly responded with an intuitive one-upmanship without considering the unkind comparisons I was constructing. Before I go trying to help my acquaintances or relatives extract this "sliver" from their eye, I had better make sure I've addressed this "log" in my own eye.

Considering how carnal our comparisons often are, it is no wonder that such responses remain continuing evidence that I'm crooked deep down ("Everyone is crooked deep down" - Derek Webb). Far better would be to respond to others' news with joyful affirmations, such as:

Comment: "I ran a mile this morning."
Response: "Good for you. That's so important for your health."

Comment: "My car is pleasant to drive."
Response: "I imagine that must make your commutes better."

Comment: "I'm glad my children are learning so much."
Response: "They must have good teachers."

Comment: "Our church has about 50 people."
Response: "It must be nice that they all know each other."

Comment: "I feel great after losing a little weight."
Response: "And you look great too."

It is for the sake of manners that I hope to uplift people more this year, and shed the one-upmanship that I so often must spew forth. You have good news? I don't need to "do you one better." I can instead be happy for you in your joy.

They Can't Help Themselves

2010-01-03T19:03:00.000-08:00

Having seen the new James Cameron movie "Avatar" this weekend, I'm left with mixed reactions to this cinematic spectacle. At the very least, I was extremely impressed with the artistic achievements represented in the piece. We paid the extra money to get 3D glasses and have the most awe inspiring experience we could. Certainly there was little about the film that did not deserve numerous and varied accolades for the animation, the imagined world of "Pandora," and the combination thereof. The fantastical creatures, landscapes and vegetation left the viewer amazed with wide-eyed surprise.

However, it is not the special effects or artistry of "Avatar" that deserves the greatest consideration, but its broad themes and story elements. Upon first examination, the film appears very much as a well produced, and skillfully stylized work of propaganda for the present day earth-worshiping, anti-military segments of western society. Several story elements convey these "liberal agenda" items:

Pantheism - the film depicted a world in which all of the flora and fauna of "Pandora" comprised the god of the Na'vi. So interconnected were the trees, plants and parts of nature in this world as to achieve sentience at a level greater than the human mind. To this end, all of the natural order comprises the god "Eywa," a personal deity to which the main character even prays and has his prayer "answered." While it would be preferable to grant this story the "immunity of fantasy," excusing this theme as mythological license, the film denies itself this luxury by seeking to incorporate our reality into it. Indeed the main character is from Earth of the future, and prays to Eywa, "They have already killed their mother [Earth], and now they seek to do the same here."
Anti-Military - the military personnel, command structure and machinery in "Avatar" are depicted as having one function: empower and protect an expansionist-industrial complex. A mammoth company desiring to mine a ground mineral are enabled to simply take what they want from the Na'vi and Pandora by the "hired guns." It would be nice to imagine that this story is depicting this rather sinister use of military force as isolated and anomalous; yet this is an accurate depiction of how the modern liberal sees all military. They cannot countenance a potentially noble use for military in an "evolved" society. Though the phrase "no blood for oil" was never used in the film, concepts of a preemptive strike and fighting "terror with terror" smack a heavy-handed reminder of evils that the filmmaker perceives the industrialized nations (and the U.S. specifically) as guilty of.
The Noble Savage - the modern liberal maintains an anthropology that suggests all the ills and evils that have befallen peaceful, self-sufficient and primitive people groups were introduced from industrialized, expansionist imperialism. People were fine, so goes the logic, before we came along. No argument against this anthropological view should posit that introduction of the West into native populaces were trouble free. However, it is shortsighted to imagine than the imperfections of humankind are found only in the West, which are then exported. We're all crooked deep down.

For these reasons, "Avatar" appeared pathetic and insulting at several moments. So blatant were the agenda laden elements that it seemed to convey the values of the modern liberal with comparable sermonic obviousness to how "The Passion of the Christ" sought to tell Christian message. As a propaganda piece, it was both skillfully executed and crafted with excellence.

Having said that, there were other aspects of "Avatar" that stand out (though it is doubtful James Cameron intended them). It is doubtful Cameron intended these because the 2007 Discovery Channel documentary he produced "The Lost Tomb of Jesus" sought to disprove the biblical depiction of Jesus Christ. Therefore, it is safe to assume that James Cameron would not intend to tell aspects of the Christian story. Nevertheless, because he is created by the one God who is, he cannot help but tell aspects of God's favorite story. Human beings are a curious lot, given over to depraved imaginations that debase ourselves and reveal our long war against our Creator. On the other hand, that same Creator gets "the last laugh" in how we cannot help ourselves but to tell echoes, shadows and allusions to His story of redemption through our art. For those "with eyes to see and ears to hear," evidence of this is on display everywhere.

In the case of "Avatar," some curious elements stand out:
(Allowing very general allusions in art is healthy, but analogies must not be pushed to far).

The Incarnational Messiah - the main character is sent from outside of the native people to become one of them. Having fully taken on their customs, their hunting skills, their method of bonding with creatures and nature, indeed even taken their "flesh" upon himself, he is the ideal figure to gain their trust. When his intermediary role is misunderstood and judged to be treacherous, he is despised and rejected, and stung up on a pole. Nevertheless, to regain their trust and accomplish their deliverance he must become what they expect of a "messiah," riding the largest predator of the sky and uniting the tribes of Pandora. The "sign" that the Pandora deity has "selected" the newcomer for a special purpose is the way that the illuminated "seeds" flutter and come to rest on him, almost like a dove might. The irony is that the viewer can be fairly confident that James Cameron is NOT attempting to tell a story that glaringly alludes to Jesus Christ.

If anything, the modern liberal should be offended that Cameron would, in a brazen display of ethnocentrism, select a Marine from Earth (an American no less!) as the "One" who must rescue the Na'vi. Why could not a "savior" have risen up from among their own ranks? What message does THAT send that these 'noble savages" were seemingly unable to save themselves? Why especially must an outsider become "incarnate" with the Na'vi in order for their deliverance to be accomplished?

The analogy must not be pressed to far, but secondary elements also emerge. The "teacher" who instructs Na'vi children and comes alongside Jack Sully to motivate him to "incarnate" into the Na'vi is Dr. Grace Augustine (I swear I'm not making this up. Cameron named the "paraclete" who comes alongside the "messiah" figure in his journey to become the savior of the Na'vi, "Grace."). Those of us with an Augustinian anthropology will also see a wink to humankind's helplessness and need for salvation. While the evil, corrupt industrial invasion can be viewed as sin entering Paradise in Genesis, such an analogy would point more toward Egyptian mythology (that sees sin entering the world because of a conflict between gods more than a fault of man). Therefore, such a connection does not hold up as well.

Nevertheless, the helpless Na'vi need an outsider to become one of them to save them from the invasion of something foreign to their paradise. Such a broad theme smacks of the Christian message with surprising clarity. With our tongues planted firmly in our cheeks, those that have eyes to see and ears to hear smile our knowing smirks as we witness James Cameron borrow elements from the only story worth telling to tell his story. Arguing authorial intent paradigms here would be irrelevant, for clearly Cameron is not intending to tell a story that points to Jesus Christ. They can't help themselves though. It's woven into our creation. We cannot help but display the glory of God, in some way, even when we do not intend to at all.

Resolutions

2010-01-01T15:20:00.000-08:00

This year I resolve to:

speak less regarding things I don't know about.
hold my tongue regarding things I do.
argue with fewer people.
praise more people (even where they're not present).
learn more than I had to in seminary.
share more of my resources than is comfortable.
encourage people who need it.
value people who seemingly don't deserve it.
show patience when I'm in a hurry.
plan more in order to hurry less.
exercise my body for frequently.
exercise my spirit more intensely.
laugh about things that make me look silly.
grieve things that hurt those around me.
help someone needing assistance.
hate things deserving resistance.
smile more.
sneer less.
advance the adventure.
drive depth in relationships.
teach like it was my only shot with the students.
meditate on truths worthy of quiet solace.
seek wisdom from sages.
celebrate life, love and grace to the full.
work hard and play hard (in that order).
love the Lord our God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength...
and love my neighbor as myself.

The following resolutions will likely NOT all be accomplished (to say the least), but consider faithful saying: he has no measure of his skills who has no target to shoot at.

Schizophrenic Holiday Needs Separation

2009-12-26T05:20:00.000-08:00

Christmas is a two-headed monster that doesn't think it is. The concerned observer can, however, witness at least two personalities at play that do not really acknowledge one another, yet occupy the same holiday. From one "personality" comes the high Christian commemoration of the Incarnation and birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. From the other comes the commercial "tsunami" of exchanging gifts with people in seemingly every social and relational direction. Each of these borrows terminology from each other, for such cross-pollination is inevitable given they occupy the same holiday space. However, I argue that they are very different "personalities" that are irreconcilable, thus making Christmas seem quite "schizophrenic" in practice, regardless of how much some may want them to be merely different aspects of one celebration.

On the one hand, there is the "Christmas" of commemoration. Arranging the calendar around the life and work of Christ, Christians start the year with the Advent and birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus of Nazareth. His Incarnation into a human fetus, conceived by the Holy Spirit and subsequent birth of the Virgin Mary in a stable at Bethlehem ("House of Bread") marks the beginning of both the Christian calendar and the execution of the Messiah's redemption. Indeed Matthew has summarized the meaning of Christmas with "Emmanuel, which means 'God with us'" (Matt 1:23). The great pinnacle of the story of redemption is in how God took on human flesh, stooped to the human condition, fully adopted humanity for himself, in order to rescue humanity from the curse of its own sin. Thus the carols, the hymns, the church services and biblical imagery of ubiquitous nativity scenes are ever appropriate to celebrate this chief of God's acts in history.

The timeless One entered time.
The ageless One became a newborn.
The all-sufficient One became dependent.
The all-powerful One became vulnerable.
The uncontainable One was constricted to a womb.
The One whom the universe cannot clothe...
...needed strips of cloth to stay warm.

Remembering this most radical of events in time is the stuff of the "Christmas" of commemoration. It is glorious. It is comforting. It is the catalyst and arena of worship.

On the other hand, there is also the "Christmas" of consumerism. Arranging the commercial calendar around this annual gift exchange, retailers have every expectation of "reaping a harvest" during this time. This has given rise to even the naming of the day following Thanksgiving "Black Friday," suggesting that businesses enjoy a sales boost that will put them "in the black" for the year. The attachment of gift giving among people to the biblical stories of wise men bringing gifts to the baby Jesus, or even alluding to Christ as our "gift" ("For unto us a child is born; unto us a son is given" - Isa 9:6) have long since been brushed aside. Now the occasion is summed up completely in the oft repeated question to children, "What do you want for Christmas?" So pervasive is this collective assumption regarding the buying of gifts for all who one knows, that it produces it's own sense of cultural shame.

Anyone with an inkling of social reciprocity will spend money on gifts for as many in the address book that can reasonably be contacted - goes the belief. This has given rise to the office gift exchange, the sending of gifts to distant relatives and any other friends that one desires NOT to insult. In an ironic reversal of the legacy of St. Nicholas, the poor are not so much cared for by anonymous benefactors, but are instead shamed for failing to participate more fully in the festival of "give more gifts." Limited resources are a curse showcased by limited engagement in the "buying/giving" festival, constituting a perceived affront to acquaintances and loved ones in every social/relational direction. Christmas Day is then transformed into an occasion of guilt for having bought so little for those that you otherwise care deeply about. Therefore, the great American exchange of materials seems rather disconnected from the Christian holiday that uses the same label and date on the calendar. A separate holiday should be invented for this annual ritual that can be clearly differentiated from the commemoration of the birth of Christ (i.e. Christmas).

For this reason, I would like to propose a second holiday be instituted for this specific purpose: the festival of Tribuo Magis Munia (Latin for "give more gifts"). Certainly some etymological progression can take place to help this roll off the tongue better (i.e. "Christ's Masse" developing to "Christmas"). Nevertheless, the other "personality" within the calendar date called "Christmas" must be excised from "Christ's Mass." In our consumer driven free-market economy, it is unlikely that the festival of "give more gifts" could be caused to dissipate, reversing 200 years of "religious capitalism." Therefore, it would seem more realistic to simply give it its own name (even if it cannot be assigned a different date). This could offer people the opportunity to celebrate Christmas fully without having to engage the consumerist festival if they choose not to. Tribuo Magis Munia could then be a matter of persona choice, and even enjoy the secularizing influence felt in the rest of western cultural as well.

Christianity has been called "the poor man's religion," for the grace of Christ is offered free of charge to the penitent. By contrast Tribuo Magis Munia offers a costly "indulgence" whereby the wealthy may purchase "absolution" for neglecting relational connections throughout the year. Scrooge ecstatically proclaims, "the spirits did it all in one night... [because WalMart is open 24 hours]." In a somewhat reversal of the Gospel, Santa Claus blesses the children whose parents can afford his visit. Instead of "the people walking in darkness have seen a great light" (Isa 9:2), the people walking in poverty hang their heads in guilt for giving so little. Tribuo Magis Munia stands in contrast to Christmas, and therefore must be given its own festival. The two resident "personalities" of this schizophrenic holiday need separation from one another. I welcome help in the name progression, but desire to differentiate these for future years in our home.