Rock On! - A Concert-Going Memoir

Despite the fact that it has been awhile since I have posted anything, and the fact that right now I have a hundred different thoughts all doing a rain dance inside my head, I want to go in a different direct on this post. Besides, most of my thoughts right now are so muddled and jumbled and un-fleshed out that to spill them onto the blog would just be one big, wonderful mess. We'll save that for later...

Last weekend, I attended the Appetite for Construction Concert Tour, which featured Switchfoot and Relient K. All in all, I had a very good time, even if I had purchased 12 tickets in plans of taking a group of youth only to find myself there with my wife, sister-in-law, and her friend, and no youth. But it got me thinking: What are the best concerts I have ever attended? ... and What have been the worst? Join me as we take a stroll down Vernon's Memory Lane...

The Best

#5 - Pierce Pettis (Eric Peters)

A very good, very laid-back, stripped-down concert in the basement of a church in Dallas, TX. I was only newly introduced to Pierce by my friend, Josh (who, you'll find, is an influence in a few of these selections), and I was not disappointed by Pierce's deep, soulful folk voice that blends so finely with his stark yet beautiful guitar playing. Eric Peters opened, and did a great job by himself as well, even when his guitar string snapped halfway through one of his best songs - he took about five minutes to change and tune it, then returned to the song as if he had never stopped. I got a chance to talk to Pierce for a moment during the intermission in which he told me a great story about how he came to write one of his songs. And it was his playing of "Song of Songs" that has stayed with me so long, and why I sang it to Leigh at our wedding reception.

#4 - Behold the Lamb of God with Andrew Peterson & guests

Saw this one in Clear Lake, TX with my buddy, Grayson. An amazing concert. You'll notice that I like a lot of folk music, and like it even better in concert when it is laid-back and showcases just an artist and his or her guitar. The first half was just Peterson and his friends (Sandra McCracken, Derek Webb, Jill Phillips, Andy Gullahorn, Andrew Osenga, and Randall Goodgame) all playing a couple of their own songs. After intermission, they all came back out and collaborated, playing through Peterson's entire Christmas concert. Phenomenal talent and beautiful music, and even though Jill and Sandra are married (as well as me, I might add), all rolled up, this was one of the few concerts I felt privileged to be at, like I was in on a secret.
***I got my tickets for this year's show in Sugarland - Nov. 30th - the evening of my birthday -
along with a few extras, in case anyone is interested.***

#3 - dc Talk w/ Christafari and Grits

Not that I could forget the (then very new) group, Grits', audience-participation "Let Me See Your Head Bob" song, or the strange woman who came out of nowhere and started dancing some African/islander-inspired dance during Christafari's reggae-rock, but the most memorable thing about #3 is the energy and craziness incited by dc Talk's set. This concert was pre-Jesus Freak album, post-Jesus Freak single, so their image was still transforming from goofy rap hooks to a melding of grunge and alternative pop ... I don't know if this was the recipe for awesome, but it sure did the trick. For the first time in my life, I moshed, crowd-surfed, pushed and shoved my way to the front of the stage, and left with my entire T-shirt soaked through with sweat. Now, some of you might chuckle at the lameness of said moshing, crowd-surfing, and such that might have been at a dc Talk concert, but you must remember that I was an innocent sixteen year old kid in a youth group, and the sweat-soaked shirt was one of those ridiculous Christian tees (the only one I miss wearing, I might add). But, c'mon, when Toby climbed up the twelve foot speaker, pointed at us, and then jumped off, how could this gig not make the list?

#2 - David Wilcox

What can I say about this one? It's not like me to become a huge fan of an artist just by going to hear him play live. Normally, I'm more of a studio album fan - I've been bored at many a concert because the music just doesn't sound as good live as it does on the album, or it doesn't move me the way the album version does. Certainly not the case with Wilcox. I've seen him three times in the same place (McDavid Studio in Ft. Worth, TX), one year after the other. It was the first song (and subsequent story) that sold me on every ticket and album I later purchased. I still remember the little girl in the front with her parents who, after she requested one of his hit songs right at the beginning, received his answer, "What? Okay, sure. I was gonna save that one for the end, but you might be asleep." At the end of the show, before he could walk out, she ran up and gave a him a big hug. And why wouldn't she? Wilcox is an amazing guitar player and songwriter, but it is his stories that keep you coming back to his concerts. In explaining a metaphor around which he crafts a song, Wilcox will go into wonderful and whimsical detail before playing many of them, all while strumming and tuning. His metaphor on theodicy using golf was extraordinary. Once again, I must give props to my friend, Josh, for inviting me to that first concert and turning me on to this amazing artist. The concert atmosphere is best captured on Wilcox's two live albums, East Asheville Hardware and Live Songs and Stories, and, I promise, unless you despise folk music in its entirety, you'll never feel more alive than when you listen and laugh at his work. If you do hate folk music, I'm pretty sure that is proof you are already dead anyway.

#1 - Rick Elias Remembers Rich Mullins

The Celebrate Freedom concert at Southfork Ranch in Dallas, TX, back in the summer of 1998, shows up several more times on this list, but mostly in the "bad" section. However, there was one shining moment that redeemed the whole experience for me that hot-rainy-hot-rainy July day. Several artists passing through Dallas who were not on the bill showed up at Southfork that afternoon. One was Ragamuffin Band member, Rick Elias. Despite continual warnings all afternoon about lightning, and a sky that was threatening, and soon unleashed, a downpour of rain during his brief set, Rick Elias squeezed into the schedule and stepped out onto the stage. He plugged in his acoustic guitar and said, "As many of you are aware, my friend Rich tragically passed away last September. This was a song he really liked." He proceeded to play "Man of No Reputation," a song, it has been told, Rich wanted to record on the album he was working on at the time of his death, but had not yet been able to get through his cover of it without breaking down crying. It seemed Rick was almost as choked up when he transitioned into his only other song, "My Deliverer," which was out on the radio at that time. As he played and we all began to sing along, the rain began to pour from the gray-green sky, and as stagehands began motioning for him to pack it up because of lightning, Rick stopped singing after repeating the last refrain, stood listening to us continue on for a few moments, and then quietly unplugged his guitar and walked off stage. Never has a concert experience equaled the power of those two, simple songs.

Honorable Mentions

Switchfoot / Relient K - Houston, TX (last weekend)

Third Day Worship Concert - Worcester, MA

Burlap to Cashmere - Celebrate Freedom 1998 (while still unknown)

Reba McEntire - Austin, TX 1996

Funky Brass Factory - Austin, TX - Halloween Concert @ The Oasis 2001

That's my buddy, Michael, in the non-black shirt. Check out his music at www.myspace.com/justmike88

That's all for this post. Check back soon for part two, in which I list the five worst concerts I have ever been to, as well as the three artists/bands I must see before I die.

In the meantime, what are your top five concerts? Comment and let me know ... I'm always looking for a good show.

A Voice of One Crying from a Dead Church

For a long time now, I have been reading a lot of blogs that contrast good churches vs. bad churches, and/or address the symptoms and evidence of what constitutes a dead or dying church. There is so much written in cyberspace about this subject it would not surprise me if I found out the subject dwelt within its own sort of cyber-subculture ... and I would place money that such a network would be pessimistic in tone and outlook.

To be a part of a church or mega-church that is more concerned with image or status quo safety, or to look around and see the many churches and "Christian organizations" that seem to have this following-Jesus thing all wrong, is indeed a frustrating thing. We want to see change. Some of us want to incite that change. Many others want to discuss that change. Unfortunately, few of us actually desire to work toward that change, and to dig into the work so completely that we shut up about the problem long enough to involve ourselves in the fix.

I realize by writing this entry, I immediately align myself with one of the former groups. However, I've decided that if I'm going to write about this subject, I might as well be as honest as I can...

The thing that frustrates me even more than dead or dying churches are the many people who label such churches this way. Call them cynical, or pessimistic, or just judgmentally sardonic, but rarely are these people apt to give a particular struggling church or mega-church a chance if an alternative congregation/community is, in their opinion, getting it right where the others are getting it so wrong. Whether the alternative community is emergent, relevant, innovative, or all of the above, to a person who has learned how to judge the Church, it is simply one thing: greener pastures. In essence, it is the congregational equivalent of a white flight. A neighborhood changes in outlook or becomes too crowded, invaded by people different from me, and I look to the suburbs outside of town where it is safer and I like the look of the landscape a lot better, where people think like me and don't mind my condemnation of the old neighborhood because, instead of staying there to enact change, they escaped to the greener pastures as well. The more I apply this metaphor, the more I see the new, hip, alternative congregations as the greener pastures, and the old model churches (or, even sometimes, the mega-churches) as the old neighborhood many of us are leaving behind for the cause of returning Jesus, and true Christianity, to the Church.

How do we justify planting new congregations if we abandon old ones to do so? If there is a place with a "need," fine. But if the need is just to plant a church that isn't as frustrating or backward, I'm not as quick to appreciate the plant. Did anyone try to affect change in the old community first? Or were they just too close-minded, too set in their ways?

I realize some of what I'm writing here is biting into my own thoughts and behavior, but I read so much subtle (and sometimes non-subtle) condemnation of the mega-church Christian subculture, and rarely, if ever, read of the dangers of escaping these churches that might have some things - if not many things - wrong with it.

My church is one that many of the blogs I read would label as dead or dying. Our attendance is down, as many people are leaving as are visiting, we are consolidating bible studies and Sunday classes because we don't have enough of any one age or station in life to meet on their own. There are people in our church that see missions as nothing more than giving money, and we are involved in very few direct outreach programs to the community. All in all, for many people in my church, life on Sunday morning is lived much different than life during the week. Such criteria is the fodder for these blogs, and it screams, "Abandon this church and find yourself a relevant community that is making an impact!" And a part of me would love to, but then, whether like a loyal captain or Lot's wife, I look back and think, "What will become of them if I, too, leave them behind?" Do I just cut and run and leave them to die? Do I do nothing ... when I certainly could do something ... anything ... EVERYTHING I can to try and save the church?

Maybe this entry is simply the squeaking voice of a person too scared to abandon a sinking Titanic unaware of the certain death that awaits ... or maybe it is of a person who is not ready to give up on a community of people who might have a lot of it wrong, but is still a community with blood running through its veins, with a life that can still be seized and lived toward impact. I do not agree that a dying church is not worth saving. I do not even believe that a dead church (containing whatever criteria makes them that in your opinion) is not worth saving. My church may not be relevant right now, but we're working on it. Who knows whether we'll get there, but there's more to serving God than simply correcting our motivations.

Observations from the Couch

It appears that I am down for the count this weekend. My throat is raw, scratchy, sore, and, to use the appropriate medical term, "just plain icky." My olfactory is filled with all manner of things it should not normally house. I'm drinking orange juice and putting my faith in the not-so-miraculous powers of Sudafed, Benadryl, and Ricola. I need to sleep, but I find it hard to sleep in the middle of the day no matter how exhausted I am, unless it is Sunday (for some reason, I can sack out on Sunday after church like a grizzly bear beginning its hibernation).

So, in the meantime, I am posting the response from the Focus on the Family offices to my - how shall I describe it? - letter of complaint. I wasn't sure if they would respond, and the fact that they did rather promptly brings me to a bit more respect for them than I had of late. However, I'm not so sure that the basic point of my letter was received, because the woman's defense seems like a standard one - almost a faxed in response. After reading so many of these magazines, something I have realized is that my concept of what can motivate "godly behavior" does not have to be something devoid of darkness, pain, or angst, whereas their opinion is that something in pop culture cannot serve as a godliness motivator if it doesn't almost explicitly proclaim black and white biblical truth. I've written on this dilemma before - to read more, go here.

Still, it is encouraging to know we are both seeking to help students, even if we completely disagree on how it should be done.
___________

Letter of response:

Thank you, Bo, for contacting Plugged In.

We appreciate your taking the time to share your concerns regarding the reviews in our publication. In response, it’s important to understand that Plugged In is not written for teens, pre-teens, or young adults, but rather for *parents* who need help sorting out their kids’ entertainment choices. You might be surprised at the number of Christian parents who haven’t a clue as to what their children are encountering “out there” on a daily basis. Plugged In seeks to lay it all out for them as dispassionately as possible. This is why our writers go to great lengths to identify every aspect of a film, television show, or CD, even down to the smallest detail, that might possibly constitute a problem for concerned moms and dads. Once parents have the facts, they can make wise, discerning decisions of their own with regard to their families’ entertainment options.

In addition, it would be impossible to discern whether movies, TV shows, or music are positive or negative – helpful or harmful – without making value-based decisions, or judgments. In fact, a large part of “learning to discern” is evaluating whether the actions portrayed or the words presented motivate us toward godly behavior, or toward actions that are sinful. As our statement of faith and guiding principles explain, Focus on the Family’s values regarding family life, sexual morality, music, movies, and other issues are grounded in the teachings of the Bible rather than the changing opinions of contemporary society. Please be assured that we do not wish to condemn or alienate those who disagree with biblical principles. However, in our efforts to reach out and minister, we cannot compromise our beliefs or change the direction of our ministry simply to accommodate differing views.

Again, thank you for expressing your opinions so honestly. God’s grace and peace to you in the days ahead.

Amy Campbell
PluggedInOnline.com

The Tale of the Wearied Defense Attorney

As a few of you have noticed (if you still check this blog, which has been stagnant for a month), I took a leave of absence from blogging. Wedding plans kicked in at high gear and have not slowed down, and that, along with coordinating the next six months of student ministry at the church, have kept my fingers from the keys and my mouse cursor from the PUBLISH button. However, I do find some time to get some thoughts down, and I figured I would share some of that until I can get back to my normal routine on here.

The following is an e-mail letter I wrote to a magazine called Plugged In, which is published monthly by Focus on the Family as a resource for parents, ministers, and teens. It claims to review pop culture in a "Christian" light. The more I peruse the publication, the more I loathe their close-minded reviews. Perhaps I am just cynical, but in case you would like to get a taste for yourself, visit their online version here. The reviews of Aaron Sorkin's work did not necessarily push me over the edge into writing a letter, but I did choose to use the reviews as an example, since their opinions of The West Wing and Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip I could not have found less objective.


Dear Plugged In:

As the student minister at my church, working with middle school, high school, and college students, I am growing extremely weary of standing between two opposing sides who are becoming, whether they claim to be or not, increasingly hostile toward each other. It is getting more and more difficult to serve solely as an ambassador of Christ, as Scripture calls all Christians to do. Lately I feel instead like a defense attorney for American conservative Christianity. The backbiting, name-calling, and exclusivist attitudes of our "Christian culture" are creating rifts between the Church and young people of this country and it is only getting worse. This magazine is a prime example. How? Because you uphold only that which is white-washed and pristine, and any piece of pop culture that contains a noticeable shred of darkness, disagreement, confusion, or angst, you lambaste as being that which is leading the youth of America astray. Take, for instance, your Nov. 2006 review of the engagingly intelligent and entertaining NBC show, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. You may argue a fairness of writing style, but the article's tone is most certainly biased against the show. Anyone who closely watches Studio 60 (as all reviewers should) will recognize that the Christian character, Harriet Hayes, is never humiliated for the values she upholds, nor do the characters who disagree with her find their views and ideologies triumphing hers. The show is simply not about jabbing back at evangelical America. Quite the contrary, it is a picture of how different views clash and function together in a very real entertainment environment - an environment that plays before the eyes of people, young and old, day after day. Why must everything that does not wave a Christian flag proudly and claim allegiance to the "morals" of Scripture be written off as inappropriate for viewers - even teenage viewers? Do we actually believe that we are helping our young people adapt to this ever-changing society by shielding them from every little piece of rebellion and unchristian view? We are so afraid any kind of exposure might shatter them as if they are made of glass.

In reality, pop culture does not have to be the enemy, even when pieces of it might contain lostness and rebellion. Scripture is certainly not without darkness, sin, and confusion. You knock The West Wing's President Bartlett for wrestling with God to the point of cursing him, but would praise many of the psalms that do pretty much the same thing. I would rather show that particular West Wing episode to my youth group than any number of Christianized films with cookie-cutter storylines and lame moments of conversion devoid of any real human pain and struggle. Why? Because the former is real! It is tangible; an image that does not make living the Christian life, or believing in God, or seeking to do the right thing, seem like an easy option.

Still, our Christian culture piles up more and more sterilized alternatives that are declared uplifting and edifying for followers of Christ, and those who do not buy into this candy-coated fluff are seen as desensitized compromisers, rather than what they are, believers who are unafraid of the culture, and ready to walk confidently into the buzzing mainstream. Christians who can locate Truth even in dark places, places not empty of all crudeness and pain. Christians who wholeheartedly agree with the words of Madeleine L'Engle, that "there is nothing so secular that it cannot be made sacred, and that is one of the deepest messages of the Incarnation." At first, I thought this is what Plugged In was about, but over the years I see little in your magazine that does not uphold this cultural Christian battle-line.

And so I feel like a wearied defense attorney. Constantly wishing my client would just settle down and shut up, I struggle to save Christianity from so many of its close-minded followers, while I seek to present its deep Truth, that of fallenness, pain, confusion, mercy, grace, beauty, laughter, and an ultimate redemption.

Please don't be so quick to neatly divide light and darkness, the good from the bad. Look deeper. For the sake of this culture and the young people who will inherit it, look deeper.

It Takes All Kinds

Thank you all for responding to the questions I posed in the previous entry. Please keep commenting if you would like, either on this entry or the one underneath. Every once in a while on this blog, I veer into an area of introspection or analysis that might run some people the wrong way, but I feel it's important to the greater theme of this, the search and continual discovery of the stuff of wonder, that we all take time to consider those things that detract from true faith or make an outright mockery of it.

To that end, before I give my (certainly misguided) two cents regarding the subject of the last post, I wanted to share something that initially seems funny but in reality is quite offensive and tragic, at least in my opinion. Yesterday I was driving down (or up, depending on where you are on it) San Felipe with Leigh on our way to an evening church activity when my eyes wandered to the right to read the latest marquee message of another church that I pass at least twice a day. In the past, this church has posted cutesy, mostly shallow messages, such as "What's missing from this ch ch?" However, on this week, the church sprinted past cutesy to downright offense. The latest marquee read:

Try Jesus. If you don't like him, the devil will always take you back.

My mouth fell agape immediately. In one simple statement, this church was purporting, to hundreds who would pass, a galling statement that is both poor theology and a perpetuation of an "us vs. them" mindset. I felt like calling the church and asking if they would tell all the insulted people that might call in to come to my church instead, where it seems we are slightly more careful in how we refer to those who have not professed a relationship with Christ.

I suspect that an us vs. them mindset pervades a majority of our thinking in churches today. This is not surprising, because, on the surface, Scripture itself often seems to read this way, whereas a deeper, more patient reading of Scripture gives us a more compassionate and gracious understanding of those "outside of Christ." I do not claim to always succeed in the latter kind of reading. However, I do think such a mindset affects many church decisions, from evangelistic strategies, to membership requirements, to church discipline.

I do not think this girl (introduced in the previous entry) is outside of Christ. Some may look at her lifestyle and suspect a Christian would not live the way she has, but then again, such an ideal Christian certainly wouldn't live the way I have either. The truth is, we all stand in need of great grace. And this is the one kink in my understanding that keeps me from agreeing whole-heartedly with those of you who commented in affirmation on the process of discipline described in the previous entry. I'm with Grayson in this respect. Where, then, is grace? It seems expulsion upholds a limited love, and though there is much Scripture that lays out somewhat specific disciplinary rules, I have trouble reconciling expulsion with being the body of Christ, which simply means to love as the Savior loves, unconditionally, unceasing...

If such a thing were to take place in my own church, I suspect I would find myself between a rock and a hard place, and therefore would have to make a decision, because, sadly, the above paragraph seems to be no real decision at all. But expulsion? I like Chris' and Natalie's comments (on this blog's Xanga doppelganger) regarding why this girl and her new husband should not be allowed to continue to attend regular worship and weekly bible studies, as long as they are no longer counted on to teach. We wouldn't keep out others with acute problems with sin, so why them? Is not separation of leadership enough?

I suppose bad company corrupts good character, but if there is any community that should remain unafraid of this, I think it should be the Church, of which Jesus once said, "the gates of Hades will not prevail against it." (Matthew 16:18)

Disciplinarians

Last night, I was catching up on life and all its beautiful absurdity with my friend back home. In the midst of informing me of all the new engagements, marriages, pregnancies, etc., he shared with me the story of a young woman whom I know and have been privy to some of her headstrong mistakes and misjudgments. For privacy sake, I won't divulge any names.

It seems that this girl (several years younger than me) has been struggling with issues of purity and relationships since she hastily married in her early college years and was divorced soon afterwards. Following this, she returned to her hometown and commenced to serial dating. Added to her dating outlook was the practice of sleeping with the guys she was dating. This was not merely for the enjoyment of it, but, she insisted then and still does today, a necessary act to make sure the guy was right for her.

After several relationships lived out by this standard (a few that emotionally hurt some friends of mine when she grew tired of being with them), she has finally settled down with another guy (who seems quite nice), and is now pregnant with his child. They have lived together for some time, but only recently got married. She is in her third trimester with the child.

The question I would like to raise on this blog is not about her, but about what has transpired in my home church since all of this came to light (and it was not all at once, as many people knew of her outlook and her activity for quite a while). Unashamed of her promiscuous ways while dating and living with a man she was not yet married to, she has shared many times with many girls that none of this is a sin or against Scripture. Recently, it came to a point where, after several conversations with her alone as well as with her and her new husband, the leaders of the Singles/Young Couples group at the church (a long-time married couple) have asked them to leave the church. The leaders are taking quite seriously the statutes of 1st Corinthians 5 and Matthew 18:15-20, which lead them to expel the young woman and her husband.

My question is this: Do you feel this is the right move, as much as it matches with Scripture? Do you think the leaders and the church are right in expelling them from fellowship? My concern is that church discipline isn't what it used to be, when only one church existed in every city. Separation from fellowship might have worked well back in the early church, but today it seems that this couple could simply church hop and eventually find a community that looks the other way to any and every little thing they've done. And would that be so bad to look the other way?

Let me know what you think...

An Open Letter to the World

Dear World:

I owe you a long overdue apology, and one of significant penitence and supplication.

I apologize for the mistaken Christianity that has plagued all my actions. It burdens the depths of me, like a disease. And for what it is worth, I sincerely apologize for all the rampant mistaken Christianity all around me and within you. I am sorry that I have made no true attempt to do something about it. What is more, I am sorry that most of the time the whole problem remains completely outside my thoughts. It must be so frustrating when I elude blame by claiming I am "not of you."

I am sorry for judging you so harshly, yet neglecting to take a serious, self-determining look at my own self. I am familiar with the argument that I am what you have made me, but the reciprocal of that argument is just as true, and there seems to be much more evidence backing it. I confess to you that I have confused what it means to "despise the world," which is the phrase written in the Scriptures (you know the Scriptures - they are the ancient, inspired writings I claim to believe but fail to follow). In attempting to despise you, I have attacked you with cynicism and hypocritical close-mindedness. Forgive me, World, because I so often know not what I do.

I am sorry for pouring as much hate into you as I have poured love. I don't believe the two cancel each other out, but the sides are much more even than they probably should be. I apologize for confusing the act of love with the practice of intellectualizing and the display of pity. I have intellectualized your history, your sciences, your politics and laws, your wars and your reasons behind them. Oh World, I have pitied your gays, your minorities, your poor, your handicapped, your unemployed and your laid-off, your criminals, your unwed mothers, your divorced and deranged, your diseased and dying. And in the midst of all this lack of love, my judgment of you has been more narrow than the eye of a needle.

Of these things I repent, oh World.

I repent from loving the things that do not help and will not last. I repent from caring about the things that matter so much less than the things I refrain from considering. I repent from sometimes confusing the laws of man for the Law of God, and for blurring the lines between the two all other times. You deserve something better than this.
I repent from replacing the life-changing grace of God with obtuse, burdensome rules and commands that I unsoundly pass off as the precepts and wishes of God. You deserve someone truer than me.

Forgive me, World, for feasting on your garbage and casting aside your beauty, so that you are no longer sure what is worthwhile for a human soul and what is detrimental.

Soon I will be free from your troubles, O World, but I am so sorry that I enacted so many of them in the first place. It was never my intention.
Have mercy on me, O World. I was so caught up in myself and my theology and my beliefs and my morals, that I didn't notice you dying right in front of me.

Is it too late to save you? Is it too late to save myself?

Signed,

one who dwells upon you

Dreamworld Repentance

Over the past week, almost every night during my deep sleep, my head has become a performing stage for the most outlandish, tender, frightening, and improbable stories to play before my mind's eye. In less than a week's time, I have become the father of two children that, strangely enough, are not actually mine (nor did I bother to attend the birth), battled slow-stalking zombies in the middle of a cornfield somewhere in Indiana, berated my former boss, Grear Howard, for not taking the responsibility to cage a pesky, skull-faced demon that enjoys wreaking havoc on a Houston gas station, confronted a high school bully, and been framed and imprisoned by terrorist Colin Farrell in a large Coast Guard ship while the rest of my crew is led to believe that I am actually the one who wants to kill them all. And these are just a few of the more memorable nocturnal narratives ...

It is interesting to me that the metaphor for both repentance and eternity is the physical, yin yang-like understanding of life and death, slumber and waking. Both Scripture and the Church maintain the metaphor of "coming to life" when someone repents of their condition - imprisonment - to sin. The metaphor is often paired with someone who is asleep (no doubt sleeping the sleep of death) and suddenly comes awake. This is a fresh view that has no equal, no comparison. You were asleep, lost in a confusing, vague dreamworld. Now you are awake; there is clarity, light, understanding.

You were dead. Inanimate. Meaningless. Non-existent. Without purpose.

You come alive. You move, you breathe, you think. You have purpose.

The apostle Paul, and those other commendable members of the Christian "cloud" (see Hebrews 11 and 12) who wrote the letters and treatises that make up much of our New Testament, employed this metaphor for repentance as well as for eternity. The Pauline letters are filled with this imagery. Why?

Perhaps because it is as meaningful as it is simple. You were dead, now you live forever. You were asleep, unable to partake in true goodness and love. Now you are awake, free to do so forever.

It is a striking thing to follow this metaphor even farther, and, the more you do, it becomes evident that perhaps this is not simply a metaphor, but the very underlying reality of all things created. If clarity is found in the new person, the redeemed person ... If true life comes after physical death ... then all that we experience here, in our humanness and our unenlightened states, is as cluttered as our dreams. While physical life may seem vivid and framed by some sort of narrative, it is as chaotic and unpredictable as any haunting nightmare. In such a dream state - the state of non-repentance and self-centeredness - you can trust no one, you can rely on nothing. Everything is constantly changing. There is no true equilibrium.

I love to be entertained, and because of this, I appreciate the dreams I have almost every night. However, I would never want to live in such a confusing world. I wouldn't last very long in a place where the more evil the pursuer the slower I am forced to run, where guns don't fire right, friends change identities on a whim, and clothes seem to disappear at the most embarrassingly awkward moments.

I suppose all this musing depends on how loyally one accepts the metaphor, but lately I have been reminded of how blessed it is to escape the dreamworld that is this life.

Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. I Cor. 13:12a
Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." Eph. 5:14b

______

And so, let me wake once again ...

Once again, I repent of this dreamworld, O God.
I repent of the confusion I have ignorantly tried to figure out.
I repent of the false hopes I have clung to in a world that offers no hope.
I repent of indulging in the pleasures that are as beneficial as a lie and as lasting as vapor.
I repent of wanting to stay asleep. I repent of returning so quickly to my slumber.

I repent of disregarding the blessing of the breath, mind, strength, clarity, and purpose to which you continually call me.
I repent of this dreamworld, my God.
Guard my heart and mind, lest I return again to such a tempting nightmare.

Finding the Savior

I have been grasping - struggling - for words on how to respond to the tragedy that has befallen the Gulf coast. I have wanted to write something, anything, that we may not be hasty in considering this great trouble and then quickly drop it without learning anything. Without experiencing some form of revelation from the One who, throughout the unfolding of the storm and its severe aftermath, has been called upon and cursed, blamed and bullied, incorrectly invoked, desperately defended, piously purposed ... So much of us, so little of God. Where is He in all this sadness, this chaos, this anger, this hopelessness? Where is our Savior?

Beyond that question, I had no words. But today, while at work, thinking about a dozen different things completely unrelated to Katrina and her devastation, I reheard the words from a favorite song of mine as it softly played from my computer's speakers. They reminded of the plight of so many, even beyond our own shaken borders to the depressively torn regions across this globe. I share them with you now.

Under Bridges by Reese Roper

Yesterday while walking beneath an overpass
I saw the figure of Jesus
standing barefoot on broken glass
His beard was graying
Smell of urine filled the air
Asking if I had some change
Anything that I could spare

Emaciated, his shaking fist balled up
Influenza and pneumonia
Begging God to take his cup
So different from his pictures
Breathing air through yellowed tubes
Jesus Christ, dying of AIDS
can look right through you

And all have hated
Crucified and walked away
Savior of the prostitutes, drunkards, rapists
and the gays

Under bridges with hands raised
From the ghettos they praise his name
Broken, crippled, in the dark of night
Raise your voices to Jesus Christ
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah











"The King will answer and say to them, 'Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers and sisters of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.'" - Matthew 25:40

When the whirlwind passes, the wicked is no more, but the righteous has an everlasting foundation." - Proverbs 10:25

May we never think that we ourselves can never be included in the "least of these." May we never assume that the ground beneath our feet is everlasting simply because it has yet to be shaken. May we pray for forgiveness that we show so little compassion compared to that of Christ, and beg him to lead us confidently into the fray. Only there, deep amidst this despairing world, is found the grandest of wonders; only there is the true Savior.

On to Bethlehem

God wraps himself in human skin
for those who want a touch
And God let them drive the nails in
for those of us who know way too much
You come bearing all our burdens
to take your lovers for a ride
But we stay locked up in our cages
fashioned by our own design

It's cold this year and I'm late on my dues
It's cold in here, ah but that's nothing new
My heart's electric with your love again
So it's on to Bethlehem
On to Bethlehem

So tell me what is your secret?
What's on your blister soul?
What is that one little secret,
you know, the one that has taken its toll?
'Cause Daddy's banging on your gate again
No he won't leave you alone
He's got a whole lot of dry, warm rooms
and the finest of homes

It's cold this year and I'm late on my dues
It's cold in here, ah but that's nothing new
My heart's electric with your love again
So it's on to Bethlehem
On to Bethlehem
On to Bethlehem
On to Bethlehem

(final two verses of "On to Bethlehem" by Bill Mallonee and Vigilantes of Love)

*Thanks, Bill, for such a wonderful song.
______

The purpose of this blog was for it to serve as a personal reminder of the constant presence of the wonders of God, as well as an outlet for my thoughts and ideas on such a grand subject. Looking back over some of the posts, I realize most of the time my investigate of these wonders comes across rather happy-go-lucky - perhaps even a bit naive. It is not only in pleasure that one discovers (often stumbles unwittingly across) these little glories, these hidden but not hiding diamonds of life. To be honest with ourselves, we can find revelations of wonder in our pain - in our struggles, both large and small - as well.

In the last few years, an image has continually been recycled in my mind, elbowing its way to the forefront of my thoughts every so often. It is a picture of me ungracefully maneuvering a tightrope stretched high above a circus-like arena. I am somewhere in between the start of this precarious journey and its much awaited, much desired, much glory-filled end. I clutch one of those long rods and am trying my best to position it back and forth to maintain my balance, but it is obvious to myself and everyone in the audience that it is only a matter of time before I plummet off one side of the rope.

And what this image affords me as the two different sides below the tightrope are enough to rattle my nerves beyond my control. If I fall off one side, it will be right into the ring of the lions, all hungry and dissatisfied with life and pissed to be where they currently are. Assuming the simple impact doesn't kill me - and it probably won't - these merciless beasts will. On the other side of the rope, below me, stands proudly and pompously the ring leader and his little lackeys that race around following his commands like Oompa Loompas on speed. The ring leader and his assistants notice my uncertain position, my treacherously weakening footing, and looking up at me they frown. I know if I fall to them, I will absolutely ruin the whole show.

I will abandon drawing out this metaphor any further. This image serves as a constant reminder of the precarious position in which I often find myself in regards to the path I am walking between two worlds, both of which I love and I love to hate. The side of the rope with the lions is the world (or, as Christian sub-culture would label it, the "secular world"), and I know if I fall too far into it, it will eat me alive, causing me to compromise everything I hold as noble and absolutely true. And yet, it is an exciting world, full of danger and grandeur and power. The other side of the rope is the Church, and the manner in which it has become so absolutely terrified of failure, adverse to falling, and severely unappreciative of anything that would cause the show to look - if even for a moment - unprofessional. Where is one to fall, when both sides have become so threatening?

If the metaphor was nice and tidy, included in my image would be a strong safety net stretched under me like patient, loving hands. But, I must be honest, every time this image comes to mind, I see no such net.

I believe God is there ... but lately I have felt so far from him that the manner in which he would fit into the metaphor is only as the safety net I, the performer, in all my pride and carelessness, told the ringhands to keep stuffed in its box in the supply tent. This distance I feel from my Maker is of my own doing, my own wandering. I would rather wallow in my laziness, my carelessness, than spend time seeking him, inquiring as to his will, growing closer to him as my lover. This all has nothing to do with whether or not I am "doing my daily quiet time" or "pursuing my joy in him." It is a deeper struggle, stemming from a base condition of human desire in living. We do what is least risky, most of our lives, as far as internal, psychological and spiritual truth goes.

Before me lies my open notebook, where I scribble countless ideas for stories and my novel, to-do lists, and interesting quotes and thoughts that spring to mind. Scratched in my terrible, bump handwriting is a simple phrase that means more to me right now, in these days, than it probably did when I jotted it down many months ago. It reads, "The Church and Christians are at risk if they won't risk." Such is this truth, especially for me. I have to risk living like I am in love with my Lord, or everything around me will decay, whether it appears connected to my spiritual life or not.

But in the hustle and bustle of life, however, it is hard to find some time away, a period of separation, to clear our heads.

Tomorrow morning, I will rise once again at an ungodly hour (though the monastery experience did teach me that the earlier the hour, the more godly they sometimes seem) to begin the long, day's drive to youth camp with my kids. Though I am no stranger to these weeks, and all the fatigue and lack of sleep they bring to already harried youth ministers, I am actually looking forward to it. At least I will be able to get away, to take some time apart from the life I am experiencing at far too great a speed back home in Waco.

As the song I quoted (which brought tears to my ragged eyes as I heard it yesterday) says, "My hearts electric with your love again ..." This is my prayer - to regain a furiously loving heart for my God, to return to cherishing the simple love of my Savior. Tomorrow at 5:30 AM, the youth group might be saying, "On to Clinton, Mississippi."

My heart, however, will be saying, "On to Bethlehem."

Seeking to know him at the monastery ...

Gracie's Nemesis

My dog, Gracie, has a nemesis. This adversary torments her most days and sometimes even at night. It mocks her. It taunts her. It tempts her. And it always stays just a step ahead of her. I must tell you, Gracie is resilient in her pursuit of this enemy, but though they have fought many battles, the war continues to rage, and as my family observes day after day from our windows, the conflict shows no sign of ceasing.
Perhaps the most frustrating thing for Gracie is not that she has not overcome her enemy, so much as it seems like she should. After all, her adversary is not much to look at, and though Gracie is a bit on the portly side (she sometimes eats her sister's dinner when no one is watching), her quickness and strength seems to factor a victory for her against such a small opponent. Nevertheless, time after time her nemesis eludes capture.
Gracie's nemesis is a four and 1/2 pound brown squirrel that makes its home among the trees of ours and the neighbors' yards. With that holier-than-thou flick of its bushy tail, and that obnoxious scrunching of its nose, you just know the little thing is basking in its superiority to all the neighborhood dogs. It is no wonder Gracie wants this squirrel brought to the jaws of justice like an Old West Sheriff seeking to vanquish an unwanted outlaw who has taken up residence in town.
And it is not that Gracie doesn't try - that she doesn't do even more than a normal dog would do to exterminate this vermin. She has even figured out how to climb some of the trees in our yard, in an effort to communicate to the squirrel that it can run, but it cannot hide.


Gracie vs. the Squirrel

However, even being able to climb trees is not enough to rid the world of this enemy. Day after day she barks up at the tree where the squirrel waits for her to tire so it can make a break for it. Day after day she staggers through the pet door, tongue dragging on the linoleum, desperate for water and a way to forget the humiliation of another defeat. And so the squirrel taunts her. So it tempts her. And so her life is constantly placed on edge by the known presence of this nemesis.

Oh, I'm sure this may come across as a rather cheap comparison, but is this not so with our own lives, as we wage an endless war against the sin that cheapens us, fatigues us, sends us slumping back home, head down in defeat, at the end of each day? There are days when the battle we know we will face before day's end just seems too much. Yet we fight it anyway. We fight it and lose. And again we are taunted, tempted, and mocked.
We are unable to win this war. I know this - have understood this for a long time. We do not have the ability to rid ourselves of sin, no matter how many strategies or formulas for success we try to adopt. Capture, control, and disposal of our sin seems so closely within our grasp, we continually delude ourselves we have what it takes. We bark louder, we go longer without replenishing our thirst, we figure out how to climb trees ... perhaps this time we have done enough to secure a victory. The victory.

I think the reason why we do not have it within us to rid ourselves of this enemy is because ... the enemy is us. This is where the Gracie vs. the Squirrel metaphor breaks down. We are our own worst enemy. The problem in the Church today is we have found a way to divide the blame for our sins, projecting the guilt onto others. If I falter in some way, it wasn't all my fault. I merely bought into the lie somebody or something communicated to me. Yes, I was wrong, but so are they. Perhaps the worst lie the Church has bought into is the concept that "the devil made me do it." We personify our temptation to act and speak wrongly by attributing that temptation to the devil. Satan. While this holds some connection to New Testament scripture, it is a grave mistake to simply point to Satan as the originator of our rebellious act. It gives us an excusal, an out-plan when considering the level of our guilt. Sure, I confess I was wrong - but Satan tricked me. No, it begins and ends with us. We have to take responsibility for our actions.
I believe this is why so many young people (and possibly older people; I am not sure - I'm not "older" yet) constantly find themselves questioning their salvation. "Rededicating" their lives. One, we do not trust the all-encompassing grace and mercy of God. When we accept the forgiveness he offers, we are wholly forgiven - forever. Find a scripture in the Bible that proves this concept wrong. Two, we return to try the "prayer for salvation" again, because we have not accepted the complete rebelliousness of our character. We believe that if we bind ourselves up in more and more rules, another lifestyleformula, to protect from any waywardness where Satan or someone else might tempt us and cause us to sin, we will get it right this time. In reality, we get it right when we accept the fact that we are our own enemy, plain and simple. The wondrous salvation that Christ offers is not a rescue from Satan. It is a renovation of self. Christ saves us from our own sinfulness - by his mercy and grace we can become, in essence, a new person.
Still human, still understanding our tendency and appetite for sin ... but now aware that the fullness of Christ pours into the total emptiness of ourselves.

It boggles the mind, this forgiveness. There is no other word for it but "wonder." In the book of Romans, it is written, "Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out!" (11:33)

May I recognize my capacity for sin. May I also see my capability to wonder.