I lament the lack of stars in the sky. But the stars are still there. I just can't see them.

There's a message in here somewhere...

It's a beautiful day outside, one of those I-can't-believe-this-is-August days, where the whole sky is available to be seen, the clouds augmenting it rather than hiding it. And most of the city is in an office building somewhere, unaware (or perhaps painfully aware) of what's available for them just outside their door. Once we've escaped to our homes, we'll sit in traffic or wait for trains, angry (however justifiably) about the traffic and the inevitably delayed trains, and arrive home for the last moments of daytime in a huff, either hurrying to the next thing or crashing on the couch. Once the sun has set (the walls of buildings around us making that very difficult to see), all of our technology will hide the glory of a nighttime sky. The only stars we'll see are airplanes. So we'll finish our day and fall asleep too late and rush to get out of the house in the morning. In Chicago, there is so much to do and so little time to do it in, it's plausible that we could go a whole lifetime in a routine where we never once encounter a moment with the physical universe that causes us to consider what's at the core of this world.

But... in spite of all that... or perhaps better said, in light of all that... God is still there.

We're very good at hiding the evidence, but He's there.

I wonder if this plays out in our daily lives? We make more time to watch TV than to be with God, who I for one have had what I believe to be actual two-sided conversations with. Is he always there, waiting for me to press the power button and give him a minute? Even if I can't see him. Even if I can't see him because of what I've created. Is he there? All the time?

photo - Don McCrady

Labels: Jesus

We spent the weekend far away from the city, on a beautiful Green Bay shoreline where counting stars was an exercise in futility. Saturday night, I submerged my eyes in hundreds of stars and literally (or figuratively, depending on your baseline) saw God's presence in the universe.

I recalled staring into space on an African safari, overwhelmed by what had to have been thousands of stars (my attempts to systematically count them broke down around 100). Our temporary home on the Masai Mara made sounds I'd never heard before, the only thing holding me back from a modest panic attack was a fence just tall enough to keep out anything that could jump. I soaked my ears in lions and cheetahs and monkeys (oh my), until I was inebriated in God's creation.

We spent an afternoon in Nairobi's national park, with a local commuter-turned-tour-guide showing us all the uninhibited wildlife - rhinoceros, ostrich & hippos highlighting the pre-dusk time. At dusk we encountered several giraffe snacking on a treetop and watching out for anything that was looking for its own exotic dining. I remember thinking that God was showing off. Turned out he was just getting started.

As we got ready to exit the park, the sun melting into the landscape serving as our alarm clock, we came to a crossroads. Down the street were three giraffe strolling with purpose. We turned the car off and quietly waited to see how close they would get to our car. The answer was so close we could have reached out and touched them. As they walked past our car, I started to cry. I'd never felt God's presence in such a powerful way before. They moseyed in front of our car and slowly made their way up the street (in Nairobi, the animals have the right of way). We started the car and headed out. The giraffe paid us no mind though, and paced us with their long, surprisingly graceful steps, letting us follow them for quite a long time.

And all of that wildlife was free to leave the park, to come back into the city. In one neighborhood we visited, we heard stories of Henry, the giraffe who daily visited to the point where, at the end of his life, Henry got a moving eulogy in the local paper.

And above us were those stars.

In Chicago, there is lots to see, but almost all of it is man-made. And at night, we can count the stars on one hand because of all the light. And even in small-town Wisconsin where the sky is full of stars, I have first-hand evidence that without all of the unnatural light, there would be thousands more. So, for all of my love for all of what people have done with what God has created in Chicago, I have a profound sense that if you are able to count stars, something is not as it should be.

I long for God's restoration on his creation. I long to see the world as God wants me to see it, full of animals and under a canopy of plasma. In those moments I find my deepest sense of rest and personal restoration. Under the sea in Mexico and in the Mara in Africa, I saw God. And I hope to see Him again soon.

giraffe photo: taken by my wife, without a zoom, from inside our car.
africa skyline photo: me, proving that in Africa, anyone can take an amazing photo

Labels: africa, Jesus

There are things I take for granted in America. Housing. Convenience stores in walking distance. Convenience in general. Clean drinking water. Paved roads. Electricity. If I were to move to a foreign country, like, say, Uganda or Kenya, and those staples of my life were absent, I'd like to think I would adjust.

But safety... safety would be tough. I don't take safety for granted here. I double-lock our doors and tread carefully in traditionally "bad" areas of the city even if I'm in a car. But in Africa, I felt unsafe as a present rather than passive way. There were lots of contributing factors of course - we were regaled with stories of missionaries being bound & held at gunpoint while their small children had to go around the house collecting their valuables. We were somewhat constantly reminded to know where our passports and wallets were at all times. There were big metal doors with big metal locks on them separating the living areas from the sleeping areas in both homes we stayed in. Most of the neighborhoods that we saw that weren't extremely poor were surrounded by gates, barbed wire, armed guards and more. Most people we talked to didn't think about if they would be robbed, but when.

After a few days of this thought occupying unfortunately gigantic spaces in my head, I brought it up with one of our hosts. How do you live like this? She said, in a simple, unpretentious voice...

"After awhile you realize that safety isn't the most important thing."

Of course, this thought quickly spun into every corner of my noggin.

What if I wasn't worried about getting sick? What if I didn't care if I died? What if financial security weren't the most important thing?

Would I live intentionally in one of those "bad" areas of Chicago? Would I devote all of my time to things not of this world?

It's not new information for most of you to hear that the non-Western world is less worried about stuff, or even that the westerners that go there become less attached to stuff pretty quickly (there's hope for us all yet), but it was an important piece of how the trip affected us. And that's what I think is worth talking about. The specific experiences in Africa were hardly mundane, but they also weren't turn-your-world-upside-down exciting. But the way they affected me has lasted.

There was a freedom from stuff over there that I envied. When we got home, I recharged my iPod and booted up my iBook and turned on the DVR and was happy to be reconnected to my stuff. But I was very aware of how my stuff owned me. I looked in our storage area at all of the things I had held onto for years and decided i could pare down and be less handcuffed to stuff. It was liberating putting things on Craigslist and making piles for the Salvation Army and the Harvest. But then I came to the stuff that I really like. The books, the DVDs, the toys... things that I am now aware of and have to sort out. I no longer get the luxury of ignorance. I stare at books I've never read and DVD's I haven't watched in years. What's important and what's not? If something is not important, does that mean I should trash it? Can I enjoy stuff? What would being free to enjoy things look like? What's reasonable? What's unreasonable?

So I wrote a manifesto. For myself. Maybe I'll post it someday. I looked at every corner of my life and decided that some things needed to change. I facilitate a conference each summer whose unofficial theme is "Not changing is not an option given to you by this program". I feel that way about my time in Africa. Confronted with how important all things security (physical, financial, et cetera), I had to make some decisions and stick with them. Luckily I had a lot of momentum to work with.

Next time: momentum. Or, what I learned from 19 Kenyan pastors and one Holy Spirit.

And then maybe we'll get to the giraffes. Oh the giraffes...

Labels: africa, Jesus, Other

People often pray for God to stretch them, to make them face their fears and to wake them up to a new life.

Those people are crazy. I'm one of them, so I can speak for us. We're crazy.

From the moment we arrived at O'Hare to the moment we left O'Hare, nearly every experience I had felt stretching. So for two weeks, I was completely out of my comfort zone. Hopefully you will understand then why I feel two ways about my first experience overseas. I'm trying to remember that feeling two ways about something doesn't disqualify you from fully feeling either (so... I'm still being stretched).

I want to start processing the trip, but I'm going to do it in parts. Today, I'm just going to cover our very first experiences in the country, but this isn't going to be a day-by-day thing so you can read with confidence that this isn't going to go on for weeks (Also, for once I get to use pictures that either Verity or I took during the trip. Africa makes it easy to be a good photographer for a couple weeks).

ARRIVING IN UGANDA
We landed in Nairobi, Kenya after 18 hours of flying (more on that later) for a quick overnight stay with friends, and then hopped on a plane to Kampala, Uganda early the next morning. The drive to the house was my first real out-of-country experience but it didn't really feel like we were on the other side of the world. Maybe because people spoke English well or because Coke billboards were littered along the roads, but it felt like America only... tweaked. For example, the roads were paved but without streetlamps. And we were stopped by police, but they had big (!) guns hanging menacingly around their necks. Or the home felt like any home in the States, but there was mosquito netting on the beds (which confirmed my fears about getting diseases in Africa, and I was now convinced that I was not going to come out on the other side fully intact).

The next morning we woke up from our Ambien-induced slumber feeling bright-eyed and ready to go. We got our passports stamped again and were off to Uganda, where we were whisked away to our home for the next week. We stayed with the Willisons, which was worth the trip in and of itself. Most of you know the Willisons better than I do, but let me say that as a married couple, as parents and as a family, they are truly wonderful people who I feel touched to have as role models.

The drive from the airport revealed something I was less prepared for because I spent all of my pre-trip time suffering the flight and not thinking about what Africa would actually be like: it was gorgeous. The lake, the greenery, the colors. Apparently we came a short while after the Queen of England had been there and so a lot of money had been poured into beautifying the city (...), so let me clarify that it was the God-made part of the land that got me. As we drove through we put on our mosquito repellent and took everything in. The people bustled down the street dressed in suits and dresses, like pictures of America in the 40's (only everyone wasn't white). The traffic was, not for a lack of a better term, INSANE. The roads were largely washed out and ... "bumpy" (later someone said to us, "It's nice that they put a road in that pothole, isn't it?"). Stores with a small room full of one item (DVDs, bananas & cell phones seemed to be a popular choice) lined the roads and shacks served as a bedroom for many families.

So one would assume that we were in a poor part of Kampala. While you wouldn't necessarily be wrong, we did learn that you can't use western values to judge the state of non-western cultures. We learned that life in Kampala is done outside and that housing for many local people is seen as merely a bedroom. So you could be very poor or fairly well-off and live in one of these shacks. I decided to throw away snap judgments for the rest of the trip.

We pulled up to the Willison's home where they live with their five children and six dogs (most of who are guard dogs) and opened the gate covered in barbed wire. Thus begins the next part of the story: safety.

Labels: africa, Jesus, Other

I've been sitting in the McCarran airport for more than ten hours. Dozens of names have been called that didn't rhyme with "Schmave Schmandell". The PA system have become one with the atmosphere - it's no longer surprising to hear a booming voice. It's a minor distraction, like sirens or trains in Chicago. In the airport I can find no healthy eating choices, except for a sports bar that was no longer serving food. I've drank more Pepsi and eaten more junk than in the last three days combined, which is amazing since I've been dining on buffets every third meal (I've made really healthy choices at said buffets and almost entirely stuck to water since Friday, however, making the former sentence possible). And the monotonous sounds of the slot machines will surely follow me like a phantom to Chicago.

I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm ready to be home. Ah, Chicago. The greatest city on earth. I'm convinced of it. There's no place like home. But this post is about Vegas. And it's long because I want to pour my thoughts onto the page and see what comes of it. Because somewhere in there I think I happened upon a deep truth about God this weekend. So if you have a minute, let me tell you about my first (and hopefully only) trip to Las Vegas, Nevada.



I have officially experienced Vegas. The glamour. The glitz. The sleaze. Vegas - where women are treated like delivery pizza ("girls to your room in 20 minutes or less"). Vegas - where people walk down the street with open containers & drop hundreds of dollars in minutes for the thrill of it. Vegas - where an NCAA tournament weekend could probably have paid to provide fresh drinking water to the world. In cash. Vegas - where mothers and fathers bring their sons and daughters for a fun-filled family vacation. Wait, scratch that last part. I can't figure out why someone would bring their kids here. Heck, I can't figure out why someone would bring their selves here.

Vegas. Right now in the airport I'm sitting in front of 44 slot machines, most of which have been occupied throughout the day. They promise spins worth $2300 and jackpots of $644,789 and counting. I'm tempted to pull the lever on the Wheel of Fortune for the chance to win that $644K. I'd like to think we'd buy a home, put money away for the future and give generously to our church.

I walked the strip up & down at least six times during my three-day stay (now four with a full day in an airport). What I'm told are illegal aliens, men as young as ten years old and even women handed out pornographic fliers for hookers, the way a new hair salon might hand out coupons as you get off the El, the aforementioned '20 minutes or less' written boldly on their t-shirts. I watched husbands take the fliers and laugh about them with their wives. I wondered what the wife actually felt like saying about his source of amusement. On Saturday night we hung out at a sportsbook (where I daydream I could make my living if I lived in Vegas - 11 for 12 for the weekend, although i didn't have a cent on any of that), and a man with arms larger than my head casually came up to us, as if he'd known us for years and we proceeded to have the following conversation verbatim. It began innocently enough.

"What are you guys doing tonight?"

I don't know, going to bed maybe. Kinda tired.

"You like strip clubs?"

Ugh.

Vegas, baby, Vegas. It's worth noting that there were nice memories mixed in. On Friday my friend Jason treated me to dinner and we stared entranced at the Bellagio fountains for at least a half hour (if anything, this weekend made me want to watch the Ocean's Eleven films, the first of which was on TNT last night as I laid in bed suffering from a two-hour time difference that never worked out right). On Saturday, I got to have a nice dinner with a good friend named Pos, and we had such a great conversation. And the training event, what I was here for, went quite well. I got to meet a lot of great people we laughed a lot (there was ample fodder).

But, I am ready to go home. I feel toxic, as if someone spilled chemicals all over me for three straight days.

But here's what I want to say. On Sunday I was able to get out of Vegas for a little bit to see some spectacular works of God's hands. Canyons of every shape and size, each colored and cracked uniquely, as if the mountains were expressing their personalities the way we use clothes. I sat in my car with the rain hitting and talked to God. We talked about my life, my future, my marriage, my health. Well, mostly I talked. It wasn't until I was driving down the mountain that God collapsed on me like a ton of bricks. As I drove home, I slowly drove out of the storm and I saw at first just a hint of the sun. Then, I saw this giant white ball pouring down on God's creation. It was simply majestic. The clouds split in just the right way that the Sun's beams shone divinely on all of the land below.

And I thought, oh my, God, you are so much bigger than me that it hurts. You have crushed and will crush the lord of Las Vegas, but you long for the people on that Las Vegas strip, with all of their brokenness and the industries that profit from that brokenness, creating more and more brokenness. Perhaps nowhere in America do I wish we could just drop a big Jesus bomb that wrecks everyone in its path with the love and peace and grace and forgiveness of Christ.

When God ushers in a restored Earth, what will become of Las Vegas? Perhaps it won't be wiped off the face of the planet. Perhaps the buildings will be swept away, revealing the earth God created. Even now Vegas cannot escape the Sun's rays. It shines brightly overhead, sustaining it and bringing new life each season. It is not forsaken. So we must pray and help, however we can.

photo - cynnerz

Labels: Jesus, Other

Merry Christmas to all...

Week One: Hope
Week Two: Peace
Week Three: Joy
Week Four: Love

So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other. - John 13:34

"You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? - Matthew 5:43-47

But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners - Romans 5:8

Jesus... If I start connecting dots... that's a tall order. So I pray for wisdom, for energy, for passion and compassion. Compel me to love others as you loved us. Help me to use my life in a way that allows others to live. We praise you for invading Satan's kingdom and reclaiming it for your own. We wait hopefully for your return and want to do as much as we can in the time being. We love you. Amen.

Labels: Jesus

It's been quite a day, so I may come back and post some thoughts later, but for now, here are the scriptures I've been thinking about this week. I keep coming back to Isaiah 2:4. We get a picture of the last days, where people "beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks". I haven't been able to shake this question: What are my swords and spears, and how I could use all of the skills, energy and emotion I expend in a way that cultivates life?

Blessings to all of you.

Week One: Hope
Week Two: Peace
Week Three: Joy
Week Four: Love

In the last days the mountain of the LORD's temple will be established as chief among the mountains; it will be raised above the hills, and all nations will stream to it.

Many peoples will come and say, "Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths." The law will go out from Zion, the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.

He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.

Come, O house of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the LORD.
Isaiah 2:2-5 (NIV)

Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD his God,
who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, who keeps faith forever; who executes justice for the oppressed, who gives food to the hungry.

The LORD sets the prisoners free; the LORD opens the eyes of the blind. The LORD lifts up those who are bowed down; the LORD loves the righteous. The LORD watches over the sojourners; he upholds the widow and the fatherless,
the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.

The LORD will reign forever, your God, O Zion, to all generations. Praise the LORD.
Psalm 146:5-10 (ESV)

Labels: Jesus

Each week of Advent, I want to post a couple verses related to that week's theme, along with the prayer that they stirred up for me. I'd love to hear what these passages stir up for you.

Week One: Hope
Week Two: Peace
Week Three: Joy
Week Four: Love

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Romans 8:18-25 (ESV)

And do this, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep; for now our salvation is nearer than when we first believed. The night is far spent, the day is at hand. Therefore let us cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light. Romans 13:11-12 (NKJV)

Jesus... I see groaning from all of your creation every day for justice, peace, love and hope. For freedom from corruption. For freedom from the works of darkness. I read about it and hear about it from every corner of the earth. And I myself groan, even when I find myself contributing to the corruption instead of the restoration.

I praise you for the hope you have created in those of us who wait eagerly for you to restore and reconcile everything. I praise you that there is a whole new energy and longing from your followers to join you in putting this world back together. I praise you for the good things that are happening in Chicago, in Iowa, in our country and in the world. I also acknowledge how much more there is to do. I pray that you will instill in us the urgency of your Kingdom. That you will awake us from our slumber and help us to turn from corruption, temptation and the works of darkness, and turn towards your light. I pray that we will do these things, and not just think these things.

I pray for more faith, more wisdom, more direction, more love, more patience and so much more hope. Hope for our world and hope for our lives. We love you. We believe you. We long for you. Amen.

Labels: Jesus

"If you want a good burger, you've got to try Rockwell's Neighborhood Grill. A good sandwich? Costello's for sure! And I love HarvesTime for fresh produce, meats and cheeses (try a Honeycrisp apple while you're there). Oh, and if you want some good healing and teaching, make sure to check out Jesus."

Who is Jesus? I'm not talking in society-wide terms. I just mean for me. For Dave Sandell. Who is Jesus? I have a close relationship with God. We talk. We spend time together. But Jesus...

About two months ago I was reflecting on the way others talk about Jesus - as their Savior. Their healer. Their friend and king. And those words didn't resonate with me. I slowly realized that to me, Jesus was a product. No different than Pepsi or Apple. One of my favorite products to be sure, but a product nonetheless. He was a character in a book. A more meaningful Harry Potter. He symbolized something beautiful and God-sized, but He wasn't real. He was a symbol. A concept. An idea.

Can I know him as more than that? When I die, can I meet him and get the feeling that, even as I bow down before him, on some level we're actually old friends meeting face-to-face at last? If I died today, that wouldn't be my experience.

I wanted to meet the real Jesus. I've met him before, but it had been so long that he had faded into my memory, summoned up whenever I need to invoke his name in prayer. So I made a simple change. I told God that for the month of September, I wouldn't be praying to him. Instead, I was going to direct my prayers towards Jesus. And friends, it's been pretty incredible. I don't know that I have words yet to describe this experience other than to say that it's October, and I've told God I'm going to take one more month because I'm enjoying this so much.

What have we talked about? Well, lately he's been showing me what it means to be poor in spirit...

More soon...

Labels: Jesus

The seasons should be rearranged. No, wait, scratch that. Work schedules and life calendars should be rearranged. We should have a national mandate that all summer activities be moved to the months of September and October (and April and May), with some spillover into November. All summer long there were lots of things to do outdoors, and we even had half-day Fridays at the office, and I found myself longing to enjoy the fresh air... conditioning. Now, it's in the high 60s and I'm stuck inside at a desk until basically sundown. (Although, through the grace of God, and a nice promotion, I have an office with windows).

This weather raises all sorts of deeply profound theological questions, such as:

What will the weather in Heaven be like?

If it's always hot, like so many of my friends wish our weather was like, will I enjoy that, or will I be miserable?

What if it never snows?

What if, when I die, I never see snow again.

Will I be okay with that?

How does it work? Do I magically forget that I love crisp-cool weather and just not miss it?

Will it be a blind ignorance feeling, or a fully-aware acceptance?

Why create something as wonderful and stirringly divisive as the seasons if they're only temporary?

Are there ever days you feel like you just may like earth more than Heaven?

Was that heretical?

Feel free to post your thoughts. Happy autumn everyone!

Labels: Jesus

A few weeks ago, Verity & I went snorkeling in the ocean off of Calica, Mexico. It was one of the most profound experiences I've ever had. We saw beautiful coral, a flounder, hundreds of fish (that came right up to us - shoo, fish, shoo!) and even a sea turtle, which I'm told are very rare to see (I didn't take the picture featured here, but it did look similar).

As I hung out in creation, I had this beautiful paradoxical reaction:

I was overwhelmed with how small and insignificant I am. God made this earth some 4.5 billion years ago. Now, scuba diving and the rest are fairly recent inventions, especially relative to the age of the earth. As are the Discovery Chanel, documentary crews and IMAX theaters. So there's all of this earth and sea that God seems to have created solely for his pleasure. And it's gorgeous. I've been obsessed with programs like Planet Earth and The Blue Planet since we got back from snorkeling, and I'm amazed at what's out there, all created not for us to marvel at but just for God's pleasure - at least for the first 4.5 billion years. Compared to the earth, the solar system, the universe... I am just one guy sitting in a cubicle dreaming of the future. I am so preposterously insignificant that my words will never properly sum up just how insignificant I am.

And therein was the paradox. In this insignificance, I felt more empowered than ever before. First, the tasks at hand seemed smaller in scope, even when they were of the world-changing variety (or at least the Chicago-changing variety). Second, I had a new sense of this being God's world and me simply stepping into His plan, His creation, what He's doing. I can accomplish anything He sets before me. It wasn't until I was floating around in the ocean, trying not to swallow water through my snorkel, staring at a sea turtle that this truth really came alive for me. To steal a phrase from Mother Theresa, who am I but a pencil in God's hand?

Labels: Favorites, Jesus

The way Anne Lamott writes doesn't make room for non-sequiturs to be non-sequiturs, since everything she writes is simultaneously flowing logically and sporadically careening from thought to thought. However, I'm about to use that term only to say that while "Bird by Bird" was the source of inspiration for this thought, the book has nothing to do with this thought (that being said, everyone who wants to be a better writer, no matter the medium, or anyone who just wants to sit down with an old friend and chat should pick it up).

A non-sequitur in Anne Lamott's "Bird by Bird" exposed how small my God was several months ago. I've since returned the book to the library, but perhaps I can paraphrase somewhat accurately: "When God believes all the same things you do, perhaps you've created God in our image instead of the other way around." (If anyone has the book and cares to correct the quote, post it in the comments). I've only been a Christian for a handful of years (more than 40 dog-years though!). I can't claim to have obsessed over each page of scripture. And even though I've listened to hundreds of sermons in that time, I hope that I've only scratched the surface of the glacier that is God. And yet, all my worldviews coincidentally align with his! The things about this world that irk me irk him! The people that drive me crazy drive him crazy!

I recognize now that I am, in fact, creating God in my image. I'm finding ways to justify all of my ill thoughts and cynical expressions by twisting something that may be true into something that aligns perfectly with what I want to be true. It may be that in some of those things I have taken on God's view of life, but I wouldn't know because I haven't truly explored what God believes about all of the things that affect my life - whether that is revealed in scripture, prayer, meditation, writing, or conversations with those who have journeyed with my God longer than i have. Perhaps, as a relatively young Christian, the areas where I am most comfortable with what I perceive God asking me to do reveal a sort of litmus test for where I haven't dug deep enough.

I think this is a flaw I share with the rest of the Jesus-following world. The Bible has a lot of challenging things to say, and yet I watch people (myself included) dismissing major chunks of scripture because another chunk may get messy.

I say we embrace the mess. It's easier for us to become like Jesus if we make Jesus into who we are. But that's not what it means to be a disciple. If I am to be a disciple of Jesus, to become who God created me to be, then I must confess that God is not stepping into my world, but inviting me to step into His.

Labels: Jesus

On Sunday, we remember Palm Sunday, Jesus' triumphant arrival on donkey-back into Jerusalem where He was praised and glorified by huge crowds of people. Then, next Friday we'll remember Good Friday where the same crowds called for Jesus' crucifixion.

Here's what happened between those days:

He cleared the Temple.
He healed the blind and the lame.
Children praised Him as Messiah.
He withered up an unfruitful fig tree.
He taught in the Temple.
He challenged the religious leaders.
He kept challenging them.
He really poked at them and got under their skin.
I mean, He really called them out.
The religious leaders plotted to kill Him and convinced the crowd that they were right.

There's more to it, but you get the gist. So the religious leaders were clearly threatened and acted accordingly. The crowds on the other hand, what was their excuse? Don Williams shed some light on this for me when he preached from Mark 10:

Then they came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving the city, a blind man, Bartimaeus (that is, the Son of Timaeus), was sitting by the roadside begging. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"

Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, "Son of David, have mercy on me!"

Jesus stopped and said, "Call him." So they called to the blind man, "Cheer up! On your feet! He's calling you." Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus.

"What do you want me to do for you?" Jesus asked him.
The blind man said, "Rabbi, I want to see."

"Go," said Jesus, "your faith has healed you." Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.

So first the crowd tells Bartimaues that he's not important enough for Jesus, and then when Jesus calls for him, they rebuke him for... I don't know, not jumping up fast enough, or still wailing out for Jesus. This crowd is...

Kind of like our crowd.

Our society does this too, right? It blows with the wind, following whatever is attractive and convenient.

This Palm Sunday, I want to take time to just reflect on why I so often get caught up in where the wind is blowing the crowd. Why I really want the crowd to like me, why the thought of not being in the in crowd is scary to me. I was never in the in crowd growing up, but come college and now, after college, I've tasted the in crowd, and it's hard to go back voluntarily. But Jesus is more important to me and Jesus who I claim I've turned my life over to.

A little less crowd and a little more Jesus would be good for me, not to mention the people I influence and pray for.

Download Don's heart-grabbing sermon on Mark 10 about Bartimaeus here.

Labels: Jesus

"I'm just a guy who Jesus loves." - Mike Breaux, Willow Creek

What if it were as simple as that? How would our everyday troubles, our big picture goals, our trials and tribulations, joys and sorrows be informed and shaped by finding our identity there and there alone?

If at the center of everything was this knowledge that the core of our identity was as guys and girls that Jesus loved, it would change everything. Being a disciple, becoming a disciple, all of it would be different. Evangelism would be fun. Worship would be sweeter than ever. Can you imagine singing your guts out to your creator along with a choir of voices who all understood that their whole life begins each morning with a tight grasp on being loved by Jesus?

We'd have perspective. We'd have context. When hard stuff came, we'd start here and move from there. Even life's toughest moments could be met with a profoundly simple clarity. Praying for people, turning from sin, leading, following, work, being in community... all of the longing, the fears, those crushing moments that make you start to question everything, imagine if all of those moments simply started with a gentle reminder that we're just people that Jesus loves. Everything else is secondary to that.

There's the sum total of my Lenten reflections. Everything else that I thought I needed to think about lead there. And from there I can work back out with a different understanding of what it means.

Easter has implications for everyone, whether they've chosen to let Jesus into their deep places or not. Jesus died for everyone, and if He died for everyone because He loved us... that means He loves everyone.

Labels: Jesus

A new drug is being introduced to fight obesity in our pets.

Obesity.

In pets.

Growing up, I had two schnauzers that I loved dearly, Maynard and Bernie (Maynard after jazz trumpeter and frequent aural stratosphere visitor Maynard Ferguson, and Bernie as a combination of Bert and Ernie, of Sesame Street of course). Now, my parents made the decisions about the dogs when it came to medicine, but if it were up to me I can't necessarily say outright that I would be unwilling to spend a ton of money keeping my dog alive for years. As fellow dog lovers will understand, they were close friends.

But when I hear about all the medications being prescribed to dogs and cats and the rest, including anti-depressants, I fear that we've taken that phrase "man's best friend" a bit too literally. And in light of the dog bakeries ("Barkeries," I'm told they're called), and the fact that the store for pets in the little shopping district near our house was packed on Saturday, I find myself with a question that I'd just like to ask out loud.

Is this trend a reflection of our society's affluence or our increasing isolation?

Treating your pets like family isn't a new concept. This is simply another example of the market filling a perceived need. But in an age where 25% of Americans have no confidant, I think it's worth noting that people want and are capable of deep, loving relationships. Maybe we've just fast-food-ed our way to having a dog actually be our closest friend. And regardless of your love for dogs, we must all admit that a dog isn't a substitute for real human intimacy and relationship.

Of course, the flipside is that we're one step closer to America's Next Top Dog Model. I'm not sure which topic is more urgent.

[Note: Photo is of neither Maynard nor Bernie, but he does make a compelling case for spending a ton of money on your pets.]

Labels: Favorites, Jesus

Why are there thousands of blogs?
Why of those thousands of blogs do most of them consist of a recap of the author's life?
What need are blogs filling in people?

Celebrities who our society worships go through great trouble to keep their life private. Does hanging your life out for all to see give people a sense of being a celebrity?

The authors of blogs get to choose what information they share about their lives. Are we preempting others asking hard questions by controlling the direction of the conversation?

Online communities such as MySpace and Facebook connect you to hundreds or thousands of people just like you. So that you can exchange links and tally the number of people who want to know you. Is this our substitute for real community? What about the online gaming communities like World of Warcraft? Is it a place to play a game or a substitute for real community?

I spend lots of time on this blog recommending music. Am I just hoping that my opinion matters to someone?

I use it as a forum to talk about the things God is talking to me about and visa versa... but how much of it comes up in my real live friendships? Even something that seems noble to me - becoming a better writer and communicator, sharing what God is teaching me in hopes that it will help someone - is it actually just scratching an itch to matter? Assuming that said itch is God-give, is this blog satisfying that itch?

I look at the world around me and I see lots of alcohol and not a lot of meaningful conversations or memories you'll cherish when you're older. I see lots of casual sex but few committed relationships that challenge each other to grow and really know each other.

I can't decide if technology is enabling people to be a part of a global community, blogs helping people to be vulnerable in life-giving ways (and giving introverts a voice), or if we're just nursing a sea of surface-level friendships and taking an easy alternative to something hard like being vulnerable and real in the name of getting the world off our backs.

Is the Web 2.0 the community God had in mind?

Labels: Favorites, Jesus

It was rainy outside, it was cold inside and the room was a little dark. Nevertheless, it was a night filled with warmth, light and beauty. Rob made his last stop on his speaking tour to support the release of his new book, Sex God, here in Chicago at a little old school moviehouse called the Portage Theater, complete with working organ and overpriced popcorn. At the beginning of the Q&A session, Rob made it known that he didn't particularly want to talk about the book ("I don't want to talk about it, I wrote it" - a joke lost on most of the crowd). So instead, we had an hour-long 200+ person coffee date. The audience picked his brain and he poked at our hearts. The questions were a mix of theology (predestination, evangelism, making disciples of all nations, homosexuality, even tongues - all of which were met with challenging, often surprising and always genuine and heartfelt answers - and questions about how our church communities can be more like Mars Hill.

Here were some of the notes I took, verbatim:

Baptisms = Mikvah (sp?) - Pools of water on the mountain by the Temple. God is in Jerusalem. Ritual cleansing from Leviticus. But John the Baptist is baptising in the river way out in the sticks.

Church is a gift to the city - measure of a Church... if it left, would the city protest?

We are putting flesh on truth - truth incarnate.

We are to be a eucharist for others - bodies broken, blood poured out for each other. It's why you may be drained after serving, even though you're doing something life-giving - your body is being broken. You are being a eucharist for others.

Godly Man - Relationship with his creator. Centers his life on grace and love. I am a sacred creation, created to do something unique to help God restore the earth.

Tongues - Cessationalists - "There was a party and then God came out and said 'Alright, everyone out of the pool'". Dispensationalists - that was for then. It's not good to put boundaries on the divine. Seen too many things with his own eyes. Other extreme - if you don't speak in tongues, you're not a Christian... "Do you speak in tongues?"- creates a hierarchy, first and second class Christians. Also not good.

Live and move in the world in a way that people see love and hope. Your life is different. People will want to be around you.

There's lots more but I'm going to save some of it for upcoming posts.

The evening was capped with the viewing of a new Nooma video, "You", and he stuck around afterwards to sign books and shake hands. I don't usually get starstruck, but this was as close as I've ever been to that. Here's a guy I've listened to every week for almost three years, and including the archives, a person whose given me two books, four years worth of sermons (which iTunes tells me occupy 4.1 days worth of listening), videos and other assorted experiences. He is a person who has literally changed my life after every sermon. You know the icebreaker question - if you could have dinner with any person living or dead (except Jesus, because that makes for a boring question), who would it be? My answer would be Rob Bell. So despite recognizing that he's a person just like you and me, and that the last thing he wants to be is a celebrity, I was still surprisingly nervous to meet him. We shared a particularly meaningful exchange with (ask me about it if you want to know more) then my friend and I went to a local burger joint to unpack everything we learned and began to work through what it meant for our life.

More of his answers will trickle into the coming week's posts, but if you have specific questions, I can try to remember how he answered. Meet me in the comments.

Labels: Jesus

Round two.

There are two trends that I see in real life on a regular basis that hit a spot in my soul that goes "I don't feel so good..." First, I see on the internet, in the news and in my community that Christianity as a movement is despised. This is due to a number of factors. Our self-appointed spokespeople over the last six years aren't helping with their God-invoking rhetoric and actions that don't seem to line up with anything Jesus said (It's hard to make disciples of all nations when we're killing them instead so that we can enjoy our Grocery-Carrying-Hummers and Dog Bakeries in peace and safety).

And we have this political machine that villainizes the left and demonizes two not-so-black-and-white issues that are close to the hearts of millions of Americans. Regardless of your stance on those issues, I think we can, as mature adults, admit that no one should be surprised by people not wanting to be a part of what they perceive as a close-minded and hate-filled church. Our tactics haven't always come from a place of love, mercy and grace.

However, what bothers me more about the state of Christianity in America is that while we're actively hated as an institution, as individuals and local movements, we're often passively and casually dismissed with an "Oh, that's nice" attitude of those we're trying to reach.

My understanding is that our way of living is to be so counter-cultural that people will persecute us for our beliefs. I don't feel very persecuted though. I mostly feel ignored. And that bothers me.

What I don't want is for our Savior to be synonymous with hate and hypocrisy. What I do want is for the Gospel, words that are still radical today, to overwhelm the community I am a part of. So all I know to do in this conversation is to turn the light on me and ask:

How am I putting God's truth on display in my life?
How can I better live out this faith?
How can I, as one believer in a community of many believers, reclaim Jesus and be a movement for unquestionable good?

I feel like I'm saying things that not all of my friends agree with, so please, engage me in the comments. Do you see it a completely different way? I want your voice to be heard as well. I'm not here to debate but to talk about these things. The Body of Christ is supposed to be unified, but I feel split wide open by some of these topics, to the point where they feel taboo to even raise. But I think it's important to talk about this stuff. So, please, remember that we're called to love one another and then comment away.

Be blessed... be loved...

Labels: Favorites, Jesus

As I've pondered the James Cameron announcement (see the last post), I've come to the conclusion that we've got to think about our role in this mess. If the Church concentrated on making the world more like Heaven, if our number one goal was to end hunger, create shelter, provide heat and clothing, and then move into realms like education, health care and then into even broader arenas like human rights and creating equality, I think the world wouldn't be interested in spending time disproving Christianity. I imagine they'd celebrate the work of God on display.

But in the past couple years we've seen Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion plastered all over Barnes and Noble. We've seen the author of The Da Vinci Code publicly stating that it is a work of fiction, and then at least thousands of people exploring if it was true or not. We've had Oprah's The Secret speaking to thousands of people looking to fill a void in their life that God wants to fill so badly. Just as we are seeing a waning interest in The Da Vinci Code, all of these things will soon be forgotten and Jesus will still be capturing the hearts, minds and imaginations of millions of people around the world. But I think to dismiss all of what's happening without critically examining our role in it would be to do the Church a disservice.

It seems like people are fed up with Christianity in America. How did we get this far? Certainly we are to expect persecution, but this doesn't feel (at least to me) like a kingdom's power being threatened. This feels like people with good intentions wanting to make the world a more tolerable, more peaceful place, and the way they've deemed most efficient to accomplishing that end is to disprove Christianity.

And when I read the Book of Acts, all I can think is... "Huh?"

We're supposed to be a movement of people making disciples of all nations. We're supposed to be preaching good news to the poor, restoring sight to the blind. You know, proclaiming and demonstrating the Kingdom of God. Instead, we're running multi-million-dollar building campaigns and getting in bed with political parties.

Case in point: The following story is from USA Today on November 28 of last year:

The president-elect of the Christian Coalition of America has declined the job, saying the organization wouldn't let him expand its agenda beyond opposing abortion and gay marriage.

The Rev. Joel Hunter, who was scheduled to take over the socially conservative group in January from Roberta Combs, said he had hoped to focus on issues such as poverty and the environment.

"These are issues that Jesus would want us to care about," said Hunter, a senior pastor at Northland Church in Longwood, Fla.

Hunter announced his decision not to take the job during an organization board meeting Nov. 21. A statement issued by the group said Hunter left because of "differences in philosophy and vision." Hunter said he was not asked to leave.

"They pretty much said, 'These issues are fine, but they're not our issues, that's not our base,"' Hunter said.

I find myself asking questions like "Are we being good stewards of the faith?" And, "God has clearly blessed America... have we used that blessing in a way that glorifies Him?" Let's keep talking about this. I welcome your feedback, whether you agree or disagree with me. More soon...

Labels: Favorites, Jesus

This is my cop-out post. Rob Horning author of the Marginal Utility blog at PopMatters.com wrote an essay that's been marinading in my head for almost a year. The whole iSolation series was birthed in that essay. I've got tons of thoughts I want to get on paper and share with you, but every time I read his article, I can't figure out a way to say it better than him. So I'm going to share a piece of it today, and we can continue our discussion of the topic next week (we'll start with MySpace). It's a long essay, and I'm only posting half of it here. I might suggest that you copy and paste it into a document and print it out. It's long but it's worth your time. Read the whole essay at PopMatters.com.

Often during my subway trips I'll encounter someone who's wearing headphones and he — almost always a he — will be air drumming or dancing in his seat or mouthing the words or, in the most extreme cases, singing out loud… after a moment of thinking he's ridiculous, I'll start to develop a weird admiration for him. After all, here's someone who just doesn't care about looking like a fool; that's how passionate he is about the music he loves — which I generally imagine to be something like Rush or the Scorpions. This guy always seems entirely unembarrassed, comfortable in his skin with the reassurance of his favorite songs. He will generally have the satisfied look of someone who thinks he's been rather impressive. The onus is on those around him to be embarrassed for him, which is always an enormous waste of emotional energy.

In general, what this guy is doing is taking the prerogatives one normally has in the interior of one's own car — you can sing along to your radio and pretend you're the only person in the world inside your little bubble — and bringing it to public transportation. In fact, the gist of a lot of technology for personal use is to eliminate shared space and make every place private, one where you can control the environment. We travel through public space as though we are always in our own private car, even if we're only walking down the street with our hands-free Bluetooth earpiece in, jabbering away at 20 decibels about how we're not up to much, you know, just walking down the street.

Compare this guy with another person I sometimes see on the N train, only more often late at night. While the train is underground in Manhattan, she — typically a she, usually the same sort of woman who wears sunglasses even when the train's below ground — clutches her cell phone, gazing pensively at the screen, sometimes scrolling through information on the screen, who they know, who they've called. Perhaps they are contriving text messages to send, e.g., "on the train. bored." She seems to be using the phone as something to focus on. Maybe it helps with ignoring the creepy guys (like me, I guess) who might make eye contact with her, who will make her feel scrutinized and thus insecure.

A phone works better for this than a book, because a book reveals important information about oneself and almost invites conversation. ("What are you reading? Oh, I've read Da Vinci Code too. Can't wait for the movie. Have you read Digital Fortress?") A phone reveals next to nothing; a palm conceals it and its screen discloses details to the possessor alone. No one can ask you what you are doing, because the phone effectively sends the message that it's private, that you are checked out of the space you are in, and dreaming of being somewhere else.

As we come above ground in Queens, she'll immediately listen to messages or put in a call to someone she will likely be going home to in a matter of minutes, joining the collective murmuring of the inconsequential conversations that seem to take place on cell phones at every possible public moment. "Hey, I'm on the train." This comes across as an attempt to reject the world, or at least the reality of one's solitary presence in it, in favor of the illusion of constant companionship.

The phone, which makes it clear that one has people to contact in case of an emergency, people to summon for protection, works as a shield, as a seemingly concrete lifeline to safety, ready to pull you out of the unpleasant and possibly dangerous world of strangers. Extending the aura of privacy the phone generates, the familiar voice piping through the earpiece strengthens the cellular force field that obliterates the present space one actually occupies along with all the unpleasant or inconvenient people in it. Whereas the air drummer, in his flamboyance and his indifference to how he is perceived, sends the message, "You are not here", the cell-phone brandisher seems to send the message that "I'm not here".

These two figures typify the process by which public space is dissolved into a million private spaces delineated by headphones and cell phones and PDAs, under the presumption that it's both more convenient and safer to act as though the reality of shared public space was optional. True, it may be wrong to conflate the purgatorial way stations of public transportation with public space as it's usually idealized -- the N train is not a town square. And perhaps the behavior I've just described has an idealistic component to it in its refusal to recognize as public space any place that doesn't live up to the Platonic notion of it as a zone where people choose to come and linger and discuss contemporary issues: the mythic Habermasian coffeehouse where the bourgeois public sphere was born. But nevertheless, public transportation can still roughly serve as a laboratory where the effects technology is having on the way we conduct ourselves in public can be observed.

Though we typically use technology to blot out our surroundings, paradoxically enough, we often conduct this blotting out rather ostentatiously. For example, the air drummer, though he seems as if he has to have forgotten he is in public, is more likely actually searching for attention. What he explicitly refuses is not attention but interaction. (In this, he's like the cell-phone talker.) Generally, the entertainment we consume has habituated us to a division of the world into watchers and performers, a dichotomy that sheds notions of interaction, shared activity, communal action, all of which have been reconceived culturally as disruptive hassles. Both performing and watching have their perks: performers can be showered with attention and validation, no matter how banal their performance (c.f. the celebrity of reality-show participants); whereas spectators can hover godlike above the fray, lazily enjoying whatever spectacle they deign to notice among the many begging for their attention.

As a result, we find ourselves perpetually split between watching and doing; as a result we improvise ways to try to bridge the rift. The air drummer seeks spectators but presumably knows he has no real skill to warrant that attention, at least not on the subway. So he tries to garner our attention by taking his own spectatorship to the level of performance. He acts as though he's so convinced the music he's listening to is cool that it gives him a free pass to do whatever he wants, or what's more, the music he likes and the device he by which he listens to it are so cool that he must gesticulate wildly enough to call everyone's attention to how much he's able to enjoy it. That he looks like some kind of crazy mime to the rest of us who can't hear what he does is apparently immaterial. With so few ways to earn validation from peers or contribute to society, it's no surprise we have to resort to stunts like this.

Since we often regard our jobs as compulsory, something we'd love to shirk if we could (and an annoyance much like sharing public space), we can't seek social validation directly for what we spend much of our time doing. In the absence of any other socially validated work, taste and our ritual display of it must be considered as the only real meaningful social work we all perform. Because so much status resides in the signaling function of the consumer products we display, the most significant contribution we can make to the world around us is to build the prestige of brands. This is what it means to live in a consumer society. We can aspire to little more than being showroom dummies.

As Jürgen Habermas explains in The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society (Studies in Contemporary German Social Thought) (MIT Press, 1991) public space went from being a realm of "rational-critical debate" to an arena of commercialized leisure. This destroys the possibility of a public identity independent of our private one: "Leisure behavior supplies the key to the floodlit privacy of the new sphere, to the externalization of what is declared to be the inner life." Our inner life is now the opposite of private; it consists of the collection of consumer and leisure choices we make in order to appear as something, as anything, in the devolved and oversaturated public sphere. Any expectations we have about being noticed outside the home are always in terms of our consumption choices, and typically these fleeting moments of notoriety are not on our own terms. We never know when someone will notice us, judge our clothes, our face, who we're with, how we're acting. The air drummer, at least, taking matters into his own hands, sought out his moment.

The rest of us instead tend to be defensive, like the cell-phone brandisher, trying to deflect attention, or meet some minimal standard so as to pass anonymously, while wondering at the same time how come no one notices us. The problem is the anonymity we aspire to for safety makes us in a larger sense disposable, interchangeable -- which is itself dangerous in a capitalist economy that's most profitable when it can treat individuals the same way, and give them no security or stability. (This is sometimes called "creative destruction".)

Thus, one of the cell phone's security-blanket functions, above and beyond giving us access to emergency services and friends is the psychological reminder that though we might seem lost in the crowd, we could at any moment be selected for attention in the form of our ringtone (which ideally we will have carefully selected to be au courant). The cell phone seems to provide a means by which we can control how and when we will be singled out and noticed, a comfort that conceals the fact that it is essentially a tracking device that allows our movements to be constantly surveilled. But rather than suspect the phone has undermined our privacy, we feel as though it has secured it, giving us a chance to carry our private worlds with us.

Labels: Favorites, Jesus