A 3mm stone was pitted against a 180-lb man ... and the stone won. Most of you know that I was recently knocked out of the game for most of a week due to a kidney stone. Those who've had them know - those who haven't can only guess about the intense pain stones can cause. The first day that I tried to make it back into the office, our Admin (Christina) texted the chairman of the Elders (her husband, Dan) suggesting that he call me to tell me to go back home. Apparently, I didn't look so good. (I called it quits before Dan had a chance to call, because I didn't feel so good, either.)
Many of you expressed sympathy, offered prayers, and were eager to help out in any way possible. There was nothing really that you could have done (unless you could have somehow had the stone instead of me - any takers?), but the consistent, heartfelt offers were therapeutic in themselves. It made recovery far easier to tolerate. So, thanks to all of you - you did in fact make me feel better, which is what I needed most.
What impressed me about this whole episode was just how quickly I was taken out of commission. I was feeling a little off for about a week, but that Saturday morning, strong pain came on quickly, and then strong pain became intense pain in just minutes, and then I was useless for days. I was taken out of making progress on my house todo list, I was taken out of being able to ride my bike, I was taken out of going to the store, and after the pain meds, I was taken out of being able to sustain connected thoughts.
But I was most struck by how quickly I was taken out of ministry. In a matter of minutes, there were very few of the things I normally do in ministry that I could continue doing. Even praying was hard to sustain. Just like that - I could do basically none of it.
That didn't strike at my identity (which can happen when a man is unable to do his job), but it was a fresh reminder of what a privilege vocational ministry is. Even considering all the hard, stressful, heartbreaking, frustrating, thankless, fruitless, burdensome moments that inevitably occur, I realized anew what an amazing privilege you allow me to have. Even just the thought of not being able to do this ever again makes me profoundly sad. If the Lord takes me out of it, we'd adjust, of course, but it would mean a tremendous time of mourning for me.
Thanks for the prayers and offers of help. Thanks for the privilege of serving you.
Sidebar: Thanks, Jimmy, for being called off the bench late in the 9th inning and still being able to bring in the winning run. Great job pinch hitting.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Looking at Halloween differently
So let me just start dancing in a minefield and talk about Halloween.
I don't intend to tell you how you should view Halloween. If your best judgment is to avoid any association with it, then do so in good conscience. If your best judgment is to be a part of the activities that do not intentionally engage evil, then do so in good conscience. (Engaging in evil cannot be your best judgment, so I'll leave that one be.)
I do invite you, however, to consider the missional possibilities.
Jesus loved His neighbor. He considered loving our neighbor to be the second greatest commandment out of the entire Old Testament. While never engaging in or celebrating evil, He was often found participating in the gatherings of others, especially those whom the religious despised. "He eats and drinks with sinners" was a continual criticism. He valued spending time with those who didn't believe.
We've talked about ways to genuinely love our neighbor in the way Jesus does. No bait-and-switch. No strings attached. No manipulation in order to force our agenda on anyone. But love them, pray for them, and be authentic with them - enough to where matters of faith might be discussed with the "gentleness and respect" of 1 Peter 3:15, but never as a condition for our love.
Halloween brings our neighbors to our doorstep, and us to theirs - people that we may struggle to find ways to connect with. Rather than just exchange cavities with one another, how can we be missional with this cultural phenomenon? Again, no manipulation, no bait-and-switch, no strings attached - but ways to cultivate authentic relationships with our neighbors, to love them as ourselves (you wouldn't bait-and-switch yourself, would you?).
Here are some ideas of how you might be missional with Halloween in your neighborhood, if you choose to:
- Be at home, answer the door, and give out candy. That's not hard.
- Don't just give out candy, give out the good stuff. It costs more. If our purpose is to spend as little as possible, then give out the cheap stuff. If our purpose is to bless our neighbor, give out the good stuff.
- Don't just give out good candy and shut the door, talk to the parents and the kids. They don't want a long conversation right then (they are on mission, too!), but if you don't know their names, for example, exchange names. Wish them to be safe and have fun. Connect, if even a little.
- Would it be more welcoming to actually be outside, welcoming people as they come, creating more chances for dialog?
- If you take your kids, stay in your neighborhood, even if the candy is better in the next neighborhood. Introduce yourselves, mention where you live, find out names, or just say 'hi.' Don't be so far away that they can't see you (but not so close that your kids roll their eyes).
- As you go from house to house, pray for your neighbors! As kids leave your doorstep, pray for them and their families.
- Consider having a little block party afterwards - invite people to come back later. Again, no bait-and-switch - that's dishonest and very un-Gospel.
- Be creative! No formula, no program - just a chance to take a cultural opportunity to be missional.
- It's almost certainly not very missional to drop religious material into their sacks - there's no relationship in that.
Again, if your choice is to not be a part of this at all, that may be the right decision for you. But if nothing else, this exercise might spark in us other ways to think about familiar things in unfamiliar ways.
For more ideas, please see the following two articles, where I got several of these ideas:
Thursday, October 17, 2013
The Missio Burb
I was so eager to hear Michael Frost speak. He's an Australian speaker in the missional movement who had a breakout session at a recent conference in KC, and he was scheduled to talk about a missional lifestyle in our neighborhoods. This has been a nebulous goal for us - we're smack dab in the suburbs with a desire to have a positive impact, but have been struggling to know what that might look like.
It's easy to see in the inner city and the urban core how to have impact. The needs are obvious - there's economic poverty, physical homelessness, substance abuse, and broken lives. Even in rural settings, the needs are visible, even if you have to dig a little bit. But in the 'burbs, people have hardly any visible needs. Plus we have our automatic garage doors, air-conditioning, and 6-foot fences, all which minimize natural opportunities to get to know our neighbors. So, Frost's session promised to be enlightening.
The first words out of his mouth were something like, "You Americans. I don't know how to be missional in the suburbs. Now, let's talk about the neighborhood...," as he proceeded to talk about locales where people naturally do life together, go to the same market, eat and drink at the same pub, and don't move away often. In other words, all the things we don't do in the 'burbs. His talk was rich and wonderful, but even he has no clue how to be missional in the 'burbs. But the 'burbs are where we are. We have the missio burb.
The session that followed Frost's was specifically about the 'burbs, and also extremely helpful, led by a couple living in the 'burbs north of Dallas. They introduced some creative, helpful ideas. I also picked up some good nuggets from the plenary sessions that helped me get a better grasp of living life on mission in the 'burbs.
In the 'burbs, we see very little economic poverty. But what we do see is relational poverty. There are many in the 'burbs who do not enough deep, authentic relationships. We are more isolated, we spend more time alone, we immerse ourselves in electronics and social media, and we are hidden behind our 6-foot fences wallowing in relational poverty. We have friends, but we're not rich in authentic friendships.
In the 'burbs, we see very little physical homelessness. But what we do is social homelessness. People in the 'burbs have less sense of "neighborhood," of community, of a sense of "home." We often live hundreds of miles away from family and where we grew up. We have to travel for the holidays. We are like those without a home ... we have a nice shelter over our heads instead of cardboard, but we still feel displaced.
I think there's a powerful effect in using the words poverty and homelessness. They paint wordpictures to describe what many in the 'burbs feel. City dwellers who mock the 'burbs often brag about the sense of community they enjoy. These two words also provoke compassion that we automatically have for their physical counterparts. Our hearts hurt for the poor and homeless, but we have a tougher time feeling that for our neighbors in the 'burbs. And yet there are plenty of "poor" and "homeless" living on our own blocks!
We actually can add value to the 'burbs. Just because our neighbors don't have many visible needs, there are plenty of ways that we can offer relational wealth and a social neighborhood.
Think about your rhythms of life as family. Then think about ways to include your neighbors in some of those rhythms. Add value to your neighborhood. Fight against poverty and homelessness.
It's easy to see in the inner city and the urban core how to have impact. The needs are obvious - there's economic poverty, physical homelessness, substance abuse, and broken lives. Even in rural settings, the needs are visible, even if you have to dig a little bit. But in the 'burbs, people have hardly any visible needs. Plus we have our automatic garage doors, air-conditioning, and 6-foot fences, all which minimize natural opportunities to get to know our neighbors. So, Frost's session promised to be enlightening.
The first words out of his mouth were something like, "You Americans. I don't know how to be missional in the suburbs. Now, let's talk about the neighborhood...," as he proceeded to talk about locales where people naturally do life together, go to the same market, eat and drink at the same pub, and don't move away often. In other words, all the things we don't do in the 'burbs. His talk was rich and wonderful, but even he has no clue how to be missional in the 'burbs. But the 'burbs are where we are. We have the missio burb.
The session that followed Frost's was specifically about the 'burbs, and also extremely helpful, led by a couple living in the 'burbs north of Dallas. They introduced some creative, helpful ideas. I also picked up some good nuggets from the plenary sessions that helped me get a better grasp of living life on mission in the 'burbs.
In the 'burbs, we see very little economic poverty. But what we do see is relational poverty. There are many in the 'burbs who do not enough deep, authentic relationships. We are more isolated, we spend more time alone, we immerse ourselves in electronics and social media, and we are hidden behind our 6-foot fences wallowing in relational poverty. We have friends, but we're not rich in authentic friendships.
In the 'burbs, we see very little physical homelessness. But what we do is social homelessness. People in the 'burbs have less sense of "neighborhood," of community, of a sense of "home." We often live hundreds of miles away from family and where we grew up. We have to travel for the holidays. We are like those without a home ... we have a nice shelter over our heads instead of cardboard, but we still feel displaced.
I think there's a powerful effect in using the words poverty and homelessness. They paint wordpictures to describe what many in the 'burbs feel. City dwellers who mock the 'burbs often brag about the sense of community they enjoy. These two words also provoke compassion that we automatically have for their physical counterparts. Our hearts hurt for the poor and homeless, but we have a tougher time feeling that for our neighbors in the 'burbs. And yet there are plenty of "poor" and "homeless" living on our own blocks!
We actually can add value to the 'burbs. Just because our neighbors don't have many visible needs, there are plenty of ways that we can offer relational wealth and a social neighborhood.
Think about your rhythms of life as family. Then think about ways to include your neighbors in some of those rhythms. Add value to your neighborhood. Fight against poverty and homelessness.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
The Evolution of "Gravity"
SPOILER ALERT: What follows is an interpretation and worldview critique of the recently released movie Gravity by Alfonso Cuarón starring Sandra Bullock. I will give away the ending, so save the link to this article for later if you want to see the movie first.
All geeks love space movies, so I've been eager to see Gravity. Based on the reviews by pros and amateurs, I anticipated a great movie, but I did not expect to wake up early the next morning figuring out the social commentary it made. I will spend exactly one sentence on what everyone else is writing great reviews about: the visual effects are stunning, the story tension makes you use body language in your seat trying to help out the characters, and the acting is strong. That's about as wordy as I can get as a movie critic. "Good movie; go see."
What started my attempt to unravel the subtext of the movie was the last scene. Bullock's character (Dr. Ryan Stone) flops out of the water onto the beach, struggles a bit (because she's been in zero gravity for many days), then makes it to her feet, and stumbles away. Cuarón focused in on that first step with such emphasis, it was clear he was trying to say something. It's almost certainly a microcosm scene of the "Evolution of Man" taking his first step. But I realized early the next morning, Cuarón was actually talking about the "Evolution of Woman."
The movie begins with Stone and Matt Kowalski (George Clooney) in a peaceful, idealic coexistence - "Adam and Eve," tending to the "garden" (the Hubble Space Telescope) in innocence and beauty. He the strong, experienced one, flying independently with a jetpack, charming and sincere, but interpreting all events to be about himself; she the inexperienced, weak (even nauseous), but brilliant one who is dependent on the space shuttle's arm. He was there long before she arrived (the only thing missing was a rib comment). Then tragedy intrudes suddenly, with a massive onslaught of space debris from a chain reaction accident of satellites. The Fall. Eden is ripped apart into chaos, and Adam and Eve are expelled. A third astronaut (Abel? the serpent? innocence?) is killed, and death has come.
Stone is thrust into space alone, completely unable to help herself, spinning out of control. But low and behold - the Man, the rescuer, saves her. He must tether her to himself, so that she is now utterly dependent on him for life and safety (this scene includes the only face-to-face close up with the characters, suggesting the sexual politics that woman are "tethered" to men also in this way). Where he goes, she goes, like the cave man dragging his woman around by the hair.
Eventually, the tether is cut, and the man floats away, forever out of her life. She is free, independent, and needing to be self-reliant for the first time. She makes her way into the abandoned International Space Station, and immediately curls up into the fetal position asleep, with the camera angle showing her gestating in the "womb," ready for birth. Via the Russian Soyuz spacecraft, she makes her way to the Chinese space station, also abandoned.
At this point, she does not need man. Kowalski is gone, she can't get Houston the radio, the Russians are gone, the Chinese are gone. She is untethered, independent, alone, no men to rescue her. Perhaps Cuarón gave her a strong man's name (not just "Ryan," but "Ryan Stone") to show she has effectively replaced men. After a strange howling scene (primal?) where a disembodied male voice sings her a lullaby, she nearly gives up, until an aberration of Kowalski sparks a brilliant idea from her independent, brilliant mind, and she is reawakened. From fetal to strong. I wonder if her opening scene nausea was just her being weak or if it was a form of "morning sickness" for her own rebirth.
More drama and tragedy and tensions carry the story through to Stone's fiery entrance into earth's atmosphere, eventually splash landing in the ocean in a capsule. The door pops open, and the capsule quickly fills with water and sinks. Underwater, she is "birthed" from this "womb," and as frog swims by (you know, the lab animals we studied in school to learn about evolution), she must shed her skin (spacesuit) in order to survive. She breaks the surface of the water and breathes air into her lungs.
She then evolves onto the beach, unable to walk. Earlier, she said she never prayed to God; here on the beach, she utters a simple "thank you." A few attempts, and she's finally bipedal, but shaky. Alone and female on a desolate land. No man. No other humans in sight. No one to rescue her. (A snarky little part of me was hoping she'd run into Tom Hanks with a Wilson volleyball.) Roll credits.
The tethered scene, it appears, pictures the hierarchical view of men and women. Men with the power, women dragged behind with no control for a very unpleasant ride, going wherever the man decides to go. By the end of the movie, the fully evolved woman is not just equal to man, but completely without need of him. Her only companion here is the "missing link" frog. It is like Irina Dunn's statement made famous by Gloria Steinem, "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle." Was her "thank you" for being alive, or for no longer needing a man? (Noticeably, her daughter is mentioned in the movie a few times, but never the girl's father.)
But both views of gender are unbiblical. Perhaps Cuarón believes the Bible teaches the hierarchical view, but he clearly eschews that model (as do I). But neither view properly displays the biblical concept of "one flesh." The hierarchical view is more like "one flesh - with an appendage." The manless view is "one flesh - hers." Rather, the concept of one flesh is male and female, equal in their standing before God and importance, but with some roles that are gender-specific based on the marriage covenant. Truly equal, but complementary. It is the only way to be "one flesh."
Of course, I may be reading too much into Cuarón. Some people online think the tether represents an umbilical cord, for example. However, starting from the ending scene and working backwards, give this view a shot. Good movie; go see.
All geeks love space movies, so I've been eager to see Gravity. Based on the reviews by pros and amateurs, I anticipated a great movie, but I did not expect to wake up early the next morning figuring out the social commentary it made. I will spend exactly one sentence on what everyone else is writing great reviews about: the visual effects are stunning, the story tension makes you use body language in your seat trying to help out the characters, and the acting is strong. That's about as wordy as I can get as a movie critic. "Good movie; go see."
What started my attempt to unravel the subtext of the movie was the last scene. Bullock's character (Dr. Ryan Stone) flops out of the water onto the beach, struggles a bit (because she's been in zero gravity for many days), then makes it to her feet, and stumbles away. Cuarón focused in on that first step with such emphasis, it was clear he was trying to say something. It's almost certainly a microcosm scene of the "Evolution of Man" taking his first step. But I realized early the next morning, Cuarón was actually talking about the "Evolution of Woman."
The movie begins with Stone and Matt Kowalski (George Clooney) in a peaceful, idealic coexistence - "Adam and Eve," tending to the "garden" (the Hubble Space Telescope) in innocence and beauty. He the strong, experienced one, flying independently with a jetpack, charming and sincere, but interpreting all events to be about himself; she the inexperienced, weak (even nauseous), but brilliant one who is dependent on the space shuttle's arm. He was there long before she arrived (the only thing missing was a rib comment). Then tragedy intrudes suddenly, with a massive onslaught of space debris from a chain reaction accident of satellites. The Fall. Eden is ripped apart into chaos, and Adam and Eve are expelled. A third astronaut (Abel? the serpent? innocence?) is killed, and death has come.
Stone is thrust into space alone, completely unable to help herself, spinning out of control. But low and behold - the Man, the rescuer, saves her. He must tether her to himself, so that she is now utterly dependent on him for life and safety (this scene includes the only face-to-face close up with the characters, suggesting the sexual politics that woman are "tethered" to men also in this way). Where he goes, she goes, like the cave man dragging his woman around by the hair.
Eventually, the tether is cut, and the man floats away, forever out of her life. She is free, independent, and needing to be self-reliant for the first time. She makes her way into the abandoned International Space Station, and immediately curls up into the fetal position asleep, with the camera angle showing her gestating in the "womb," ready for birth. Via the Russian Soyuz spacecraft, she makes her way to the Chinese space station, also abandoned.
At this point, she does not need man. Kowalski is gone, she can't get Houston the radio, the Russians are gone, the Chinese are gone. She is untethered, independent, alone, no men to rescue her. Perhaps Cuarón gave her a strong man's name (not just "Ryan," but "Ryan Stone") to show she has effectively replaced men. After a strange howling scene (primal?) where a disembodied male voice sings her a lullaby, she nearly gives up, until an aberration of Kowalski sparks a brilliant idea from her independent, brilliant mind, and she is reawakened. From fetal to strong. I wonder if her opening scene nausea was just her being weak or if it was a form of "morning sickness" for her own rebirth.
More drama and tragedy and tensions carry the story through to Stone's fiery entrance into earth's atmosphere, eventually splash landing in the ocean in a capsule. The door pops open, and the capsule quickly fills with water and sinks. Underwater, she is "birthed" from this "womb," and as frog swims by (you know, the lab animals we studied in school to learn about evolution), she must shed her skin (spacesuit) in order to survive. She breaks the surface of the water and breathes air into her lungs.
She then evolves onto the beach, unable to walk. Earlier, she said she never prayed to God; here on the beach, she utters a simple "thank you." A few attempts, and she's finally bipedal, but shaky. Alone and female on a desolate land. No man. No other humans in sight. No one to rescue her. (A snarky little part of me was hoping she'd run into Tom Hanks with a Wilson volleyball.) Roll credits.
The tethered scene, it appears, pictures the hierarchical view of men and women. Men with the power, women dragged behind with no control for a very unpleasant ride, going wherever the man decides to go. By the end of the movie, the fully evolved woman is not just equal to man, but completely without need of him. Her only companion here is the "missing link" frog. It is like Irina Dunn's statement made famous by Gloria Steinem, "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle." Was her "thank you" for being alive, or for no longer needing a man? (Noticeably, her daughter is mentioned in the movie a few times, but never the girl's father.)
But both views of gender are unbiblical. Perhaps Cuarón believes the Bible teaches the hierarchical view, but he clearly eschews that model (as do I). But neither view properly displays the biblical concept of "one flesh." The hierarchical view is more like "one flesh - with an appendage." The manless view is "one flesh - hers." Rather, the concept of one flesh is male and female, equal in their standing before God and importance, but with some roles that are gender-specific based on the marriage covenant. Truly equal, but complementary. It is the only way to be "one flesh."
Of course, I may be reading too much into Cuarón. Some people online think the tether represents an umbilical cord, for example. However, starting from the ending scene and working backwards, give this view a shot. Good movie; go see.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
"Doing" Justice
We are making the grave mistake of oversimplifying when we say that the Old Testament is about a bunch of rules (often with the equally oversimplifying comment that the New Testament introduces grace). Reading carefully, we see plenty of instances where empty, faithless, ritualistic fidelity to the Rules is strongly critiqued. One such instance is Micah 6:8. After lambasting the people for empty, but "faithful" (i.e., going through the motions accurately) ritual, the prophet says:
He has told you, O man, what is good,
and what the Lord really wants from you:
He wants you to promote justice, to be faithful,
and to live obediently before your God.
Let's focus on the word "justice," even though all parts of this verse are rich. What does it mean to promote (or "do") justice?
We often think of "justice" in terms of the law of the land. Someone commits a crime, so what is justice? Prison. A homeowner has been bilked by the utility company, so what is justice? Restitution and a fine for the company. A youth vandalizes a public building, and what is justice? Repair the damage and community service. We think of "justice" in terms of law and order or having the rulebreakers pay up. In a passage that faults empty rulekeeping, certainly "justice" can't mean only this.
There is also a common view of "justice" that basically means that it's unfair that anyone has less. "Justice" in this case is the cause of the poor and oppressed. The bad guys are the "system" and there is no justice as long as there's poverty or underresourcing. This, too, is partly correct to the context. Where there is oppression, there is no justice.
However, it would be insufficient to say that "justice" is just one of these. And it's not even accurate to say that "justice" is the both of these together.
The word "justice" in this passage means "to make right." It is related to the word "righteousness." It is not a legal term and it is not a social term. It is not restricted to punishment or poverty. The word means to set wrong things right. This of course can include law and order as well as fighting forms of oppression. On the other hand, just punishing lawbreakers or extracting people out of poverty does not constitute "doing justice." It includes any situation where things aren't "right."
Micah tells the people that empty religion is displeasing to the Lord. If you perform all the rituals but are not "making things right" in your society, you are not offering the Lord anything He really wants.
What does it mean to "make things right" with lawbreakers and rulebreakers? Only punishment? What does it mean to "make things right" with the poor, when Jesus says we will always have the poor with us? What does it mean to "make things right" when we see any form of oppression? What does it mean to "make things right" when someone needs eternal hope but doesn't know where to find it?
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