Josh Garrels

I wonder how many of you are familiar with Josh Garrels, a Portland-based indie singer/songwriter.  I wasn't, but I ran across his new album this week.  Here is a cut from it.

"White Owl" is the first song on "Love & War & the Sea In Between."  It is CT's album of the year and can be downloaded for free ( http://joshgarrels.bandcamp.com/ )!  If you like his music, you also might be interested in the article about him @ http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/music/interviews/2011/fartheralong-december20.html.

Have a great 2012!

There Is No Rose

One last Christmas "note" before turning to the New Year . . .

I have heard the carol, "There Is No Rose of Virtue" several times before, but I never paid much attention because I couldn't understand the lyrics.  However, after listening/seeing this piece performed as a part of "Christmas at Belmont," I decided to check the words for myself.  I discovered that this simple 15th Century song has tremendous theological depth.  See what you think:

There is no rose of such virtue

as is the rose that bare Jesu;

Alleluia.

For in this rose contained was

heaven and earth in little space.

Res miranda [Wondrous thing!]

By that rose we may well see

that He is God in persons three,

Pari forma [Of the same form!]

The angels sung the shepherds to

"Gloria in excelsis Deo!"

Gaudeamus. [Let us rejoice!]

Leave we all this worldly mirth,

and follow we this joyful birth,

Transeamus. [Let us go!]

I love the wondrous last lines of the song:   "Follow we this joyful birth.  Transeamus. [Let us go!]"  Isn't that what we need to do -- for after we have "wondered" and "rejoiced" isn't it time for us to get up and go, to follow Him?

 

A Christmas Favorite

                                 

                            After  Annunciation

             This is the irrational season

                 when love blooms bright and wild.

             Had Mary been filled with reason

                 there'd have been no room for the child.

                                                             Madeleine L'Engle

A Foretaste of Glory

The philosopher, Peter Kreeft, says that touching eternity in this life is like hearing an echo. The old hymn, "Blessed Assurance," calls this "a foretaste of glory divine."

We smell the salt air of the sea, even here, far upstream in the river of time.  Whenever we touch wisdom or love, we swim in salt water.  Earth is God's beach and when we are wise and loving, we are infants splashing happily in the wavelets of 'that immortal sea.'  But when we are spiritually full grown, we will buoyantly plow its breakers of wisdom and be borne up by is bottomless depths of love.  Boredom, like pain, will be remembered only as a joke when we are drenched in joy.

                                              (Kreeft, Heaven, 1989; p. 96)

 

Do You Believe in Aliens?

The Apostle Peter describes "God's elect" as being "strangers in the world" (I P. 1:1).  The Apostle Paul says this is because our "citizenship is in heaven" (Phil. 3:20). 

Have you had the experience of "earthly alienation," a sense that this earth is not your final home?    A Puritan prayer describes it this way:

O Lord,
I live here as a fish in a vessel of water,
only enough to keep me alive,
but in heaven I shall swim in the ocean.
Here I have a little air in me to keep me breathing,
but there I shall have sweet and fresh gales;
Here I have a beam of sun to lighten my darkness,
a warm ray to keep me from freezing;
yonder I shall live in light and warmth forever.

(From Arthur Bennet's The Valley of Vision as quoted in Joni  Eareckson Tada's Heaven: Your Real Home, 99).

How Close Is Heaven?

I think most of us think of heaven as something that's "out there," i.e. both from the standpoint of distance and time, it is far off.  But I can't help wondering if that's an illusion.  Maybe heaven is much closer than we realize.

Several years ago I read a book by Karen Mains called The Fragile Curtain.  In it she told of her extended visit to a refugee camp in southeast Asia.  Several times while she was there, she felt she could almost see through "the fragile curtain" that separates this life from the next.  She talked about those times when the curtain fluttered. 

In a similar way, Celtic Christians used to speak of "thin places," those locations where the distance between heaven and earth had been "thinned out" and where a person could simply sense that God was near.  These usually became pilgrimage destinations.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning once wrote:

    Earth's crammed with heaven,
    And every common bush afire with God;
    But only he who sees takes off his shoes . . .

How close is heaven for you?

Higher Ground

Here is an excellent review of the new film "Higher Ground."  It's a movie I plan to see.  I have copied Frederica Mathewes-Green's review in its entirety from the August 26 edition of CT Entertainment:

When evangelicals hear that there's a new movie about their brand of Christianity, they get nervous.   All too often they are presented as idiots or villains. Stereotypes about narrow-mindedness, intolerance, cultish mind-control, and harsh subjugation of women abound.

Carolyn Briggs' 2002 memoir, This Dark World: A Memoir of Salvation Found and Lost, hit a number of those notes. When their church leaders counsel her not to get a college degree; when they counsel her husband to forgo a plum job opportunity because they instead need the headship of the church leaders; when she refused medication during a complicated pregnancy and scoffed at taking shelter during a tornado—well, it sounds to many evangelicals like a pretty kooky church, if not a cult. But don't expect the general public to make that distinction. CT's review of the book said it was "likely to win plaudits for its savaging of evangelical Christianity as the source of one woman's oppression, and her abandonment of that faith as a fount of liberation."

Vera Farmiga as Corinne

News that This Dark World, retitled Higher Ground, was coming to movie screens did not cause Christians to throw out the red carpet. And yet—what a surprise. This movie presents a church that is really endearing. It's a small community, and we meet them first in the 1970s as a gang of Jesus Freak hippies, gathered for a joyous, noisy river baptism. The guys are long-haired and bearded and have amiable, sweet expressions. The women wear prairie dresses and have personalities.

Corinne—the lead character played by Vera Farmiga, who also directed the film—is extra-bright but subdued, an observer. When, in an early scene, her boyfriend makes love to her in a meadow, he has an ecstatic experience while she waits it out, occasionally furrowing her brow.

The character in the film who lights up the sky is Annika. She is funny, creative, shapely, sensuous, and mischievous. Her husband describes her as loving "drama, art, and nature." She counsels Corinne not to let the sexual fires in marriage die, and imparts that she likes to draw pictures of her husband's penis. (We see Annika's bedroom later on and yes, she certainly does.) When a cop pulls the two over and tells Corinne she was exceeding the speed limit, Annika puts on a foreign accent and explains to the cop that she was having an underwear emergency and that Corinne was trying to help her.

Annika (Dagmara Dominczyk) brings much joy to Corinne's life

When the two are relaxing in a boat on a river, Annika begins to pray aloud in tongues. Whatever your opinion of that gift may be, it certainly sounds beautiful here. This is a Hollywood movie, and a woman is praying in tongues, and it is beautiful, and she is beautiful. Wonders never cease.

In fact, prayer and worship are consistently shown as inviting, peaceful, and joyous. A small group sits in a living room singing "The Sweetest Name I Know," and they're practically floating away. Any viewer would get the impression that those who don't love Jesus and pray with others are missing one of life's great joys.

Realistically enough, there are a couple of negative figures: an overbearing pastoral counselor who announces "I consider myself a prophet," and the pastor's wife, who corrects Corinne a couple of times about proper feminine behavior. But even she is well-meaning, not vile. The tension here is not between Corinne and an oppressive church, not at all. The tension is within Corinne.

Corinne often turns away from Ethan (Joshua Leonard)

She can't make her faith work the way she thinks it should. She can't pray with relaxed whole-heartedness, like Annika does. She can't grab hold of the gift of tongues, though she stands in the bathroom coaching the Holy Spirit as you would a little league batter: "Come on Holy Spirit. Come on Holy Spirit," followed by a stuttering, but self-extinguishing, blast of consonants.

She can't hold still when her husband wants to kiss her—she can't keep herself from turning her lips away at the last moment. And, when tragedy strikes, she has a hard time fighting her way through to a survivor's faith.

Bill Irwin as Pastor Bud

This is, to some extent, a movie about doubt, and that's a topic most Christians already know about. It's a commonplace around churches that "everybody has doubts," and knowing that it's common actually helps. So we support each other when we're struggling. We pray for each other. We just keep on showing up for prayer and worship, even it seems God doesn't. Sometimes, we just have to wait it out.

So Christians will empathize with Corinne's struggle. When she pours out her heart to the church she says, "I need all this to be real but I don't know how to make it real," and the camera cuts away to show us the pastor nodding. It's a blessing to see that—to have permission to admit that.

Some reviewers have compared Higher Ground to Robert Duvall's The Apostle (1997), and it is a similarly positive portrayal of Southern evangelical faith. But before you organize a congregational outing with the church bus, note that R rating. Among the tools employed by this clever and sometimes very funny movie are flashes of raunchy humor that are definitely not for children, and probably not for every adult at your church either. Apart from that, this is a movie that will be touching for anyone who ever asked Jesus into his heart, and years later felt, as Corinne confesses, "I'm still waiting for him to make himself at home." Yet, she concludes, "I won't let go until he blesses me."

What Kind of Questions?

This article appeared in the Beaverton Valley-Times' "Faith Forum" on June 30, 2011.

    Educator H. Lynn Erickson says there are three kinds of questions:  factual, conceptual, and provocative.  Factual questions have short, definitive answers.  The questions on Jeopardy are always factual. 

    Conceptual questions require us to consider the relationship of various facts.  This is what you get in a lot of essay tests:  “Reflecting over the entirety of ‘Hamlet’, what were the main reasons Ophelia went mad?”    

    Factual and conceptual questions are useful, but I especially like provocative questions.  They can be used to motivate or to frame content or to provoke a different level of conversation.

    In the movie, “City Slickers,” three New York friends confront their mid-life issues by going on a cattle drive together.  Around the campfire after a day on the range, one of them asks, “What was the best day of your life?”

    The first friend, Mitch, says his best day was when his father took him to Yankee stadium for the first time.  The second man, Phil, says it was when, during his wedding ceremony, his dad winked at him.  The third friend, Ed, said that his best day was when he was fourteen, and he realized that his adulterous father wasn’t just cheating on his mother; he was cheating on all of them.  So he said to his dad, “You're bad to us. We don't love you. I'll take care of my mother and my sister. We don't need you any more."  When Phil asked Ed about his worst day, Ed simply replied:  “Same day.”

    A question I’ve asked people for several years is, “When have you felt closest to God?” 

    Although not surprising, many of the answers have been meaningful:  “It was when I was hiking in the Olympic Range...”  “When I held my daughter in my hands for the first time.  It was an awesome, holy moment!”  “The day I got baptized was when I felt closest to God.”

    Some answers, though, were unexpected.  One friend got a 30-day jail sentence for his third DUI.  “I opened myself up to God during those thirty days.  I finally stopped pretending that I had everything together -- that I had everything I needed to be a good husband and father and provider.  I had to admit that I had a problem.”  Would you believe that he eventually wrote his judge to thank him for holding him accountable?

    Of course, after someone answers my question--when did you feel closest to God?--they usually want me to respond to the same question.  My answer also is surprising:  “I felt closest to God on the day of my daughter’s funeral.  When she was 21, Tish was killed in a car accident on Roy Rogers Road.  For a variety of reasons, my wife, son, and I agreed that I should lead her memorial service.  However, just before the service I was a complete mess; I couldn’t think straight, much less speak coherently.  However, just before going to the church building,Tish’s boyfriend and his mother came into the family room where I was alone and still working on my message. They asked if it would be alright for them to lay hands on me and pray for me.  I gratefully acquiesced.  As they prayed, a calming peace enveloped me, and I had a deep sense of God’s Presence throughout the rest of the afternoon.  Interestingly, this was not unique to me.  Several people told me they experienced God’s Presence in a deeper way during that service than at any other time in their lives.”

    So, I agree with Ed.  In some ways, my best day and my worst day were the same day.

    How about you?  When have you felt closest to God?

The Tree of Life

Two weeks ago I went to see Terrence Malick's new film, "The Tree of Life."  Malick is one of America's most influential and creative moviemakers.  Although this is only the fourth commercial film he has directed, Malick has produced and written screenplays for a number of important movies.  The three movies he has directed since 1995 -- "The Thin Red Line," "The New World," and "The Tree of Life" -- are noteworthy because of their beautiful cinematography and because they deal with larger philosophical issues.   Malick's films are visually poetic.    The stories are told less through the plot than through the films' imagery.  That particularly is true of "The Tree of Life," and likely explains why it received the Cannes' film festival's top award, the Palme d'Or.

In the last twenty years, no movie intended for a "general audience" has had a more explicitly Christian viewpoint.  Notice, however, the caveat "for a general audience."  Many "Christian movies" are now being released through theaters.  "Fireproof," "Soul Surfer," and even, to some extent, "The Chronicles of Narnia" movies fit this niche.   If they are commercially successful, it is because Christians go to see them.  I like these movies, but "The Tree of Life" should not be thought of in the same category.  Instead, most people will view it as an "art film."  Why then, do I say it is explicitly Christian?  To completely understand that, you need to see the movie.  However, when is the last time you saw a movie that began with a biblical quote?  And when did any movie explicitly portray two alternative approaches to life -- "the way of nature" and "the way of grace"?

"The Tree of Life" is a controversial movie.  Most people love it or hate it.  Those who dislike it do so for one of three reasons:

• They just don't get it.  After all, they came to see a movie starring Brad Pitt and Sean Penn.  Where's the action?
• They are offended by the film's overarching emphasis on God and grace.
• They hate the fact that the film is slow; at times, painfully slow.

If you decide to go see the film for yourself, I would offer the following two suggestions:  1. Do not go with your typical movie-going mindset.  Instead, approach it as you would a visit to the art museum.  2. Go with a friend and allow time after the movie to discuss what you've experienced.

"The Tree of Life" is the antithesis of celluloid junk food.  It needs to be slowly digested.

If you want to know more about "The Tree of Life" and its symbolism, I suggest you view the PBS interview with Calvin College professor Roy Anker (http://www.pbs.org/wnet/religionandethics/episodes/july-8-2011/the-tree-of-life/9110/).   

Father's Day Songs

A couple of songs by secular artists have been on my mind the last few days.  The first song, Harry Chapin's "Cat in a Cradle," is a haunting message for fathers of all ages.  The second is a song dialogue between a father and a daughter, Tori Amos' "Winter."  Pay close attention to the words.  The imagery is beautiful.  

WINTER

Snow can wait

I forgot my mittens

Wipe my nose

Get my new boots on

I get a little warm in my heart

When I think of winter

I put my hand in my father's glove

I run off

Where the drifts get deeper

Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown

I hear a voice

"You must learn to stand up for yourself

Cause I can't always be around"

He says

When you gonna make up your mind

When you gonna love you as much as I do

When you gonna make up your mind

Cause things are gonna change so fast

All the white horses are still in bed

I tell you that I'll always want you near

You say that things change my dear

Boys get discovered as winter melts

Flowers competing for the sun

Years go by and I'm here still waiting 

Withering where some snowman was

Mirror mirror where's the crystal palace

But I only can see the myself

Skating around the truth who I am

But I know dad the ice is getting thin

When you gonna make up your mind

When you gonna love you as much as I do

When you gonna make up your mind

Cause things are gonna change so fast

All the white horses are still in bed

I tell you that I'll always want you near

You say that things change my dear

Hair is grey

And the fires are burning

So many dreams

On the shelf

You say I wanted you to be proud of me

I always wanted that myself

He says

When you gonna make up your mind

When you gonna love you as much as I do

When you gonna make up your mind

Cause things are gonna change so fast

All the white horses have gone ahead

I tell you that I'll always want you near

You say that things change

My dear

The Shadows of a Cave or the Reality of Home?

One of the most famous illustrations in the philosophical world is Plato's allegory of the cave.  At the beginning of Book VII of The Republic, he describes a group of prisoners who for their entire lives have been chained to the blank wall of a cave.  These people watch shadows projected on the wall by people and things that pass in front of fire that is behind them, near the entrance of the cave.

In this dialogue, Plato suggests that these shadows are the closest these prisoners ever get to reality.  However, he goes on to explain that a philosopher is like a prisoner who is freed from the cave and who comes to understand that the wall shadows do not make up reality at all.  According to Plato, the philosopher can see what is really real!

The Bible comes close to making some of the same points.  For instance, Hebrews 10:1 says, "The law is only a shadow of the good things that are coming--not the realities themselves."  That is why Christ "has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to do away with sin by the sacrifice of himself" (9:26).  Doesn't the Apostle Paul talk about how we can be freed from the illusion and delusion of sin?  And when the prodigal son "came to himself"--when he quit being fooled by the shadows and saw life and especially his father as they really were--he humbly returned home.

The singing group, Switchfoot, evokes this same imagery in their song, "Home."

It's a long way from the shadows in my cave
Up to Your reality
To watch the sunlight taking over, over
Taking over
Take me over

I've been poison, I've been rain
I've been fooled again
I've seen ashes shine like chrome
Someday I'll see home

Helpful Perspective on Harold Camping's Prediction Concerning Judgment Day

Palm Sunday's Unexpected King

When Jesus rode into Jerusalem on the Sunday before his death, people laid down their cloaks on the road in front of him.  They cried out: "Hosanna!"  "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!"  "Blessed is the coming Kingdom of our father David!"  "Hosanna in the highest!" (Mark 11:9-10).

This type of public procession was common in the ancient world.  A king or conquering general would ride into town on a powerful steed and be hailed by the cheering crowds.

However, Jesus departed from this script in one very significant way.  Instead of entering Jerusalem on a magnificent horse, he rode on a polos, a colt or small donkey.  So here was Jesus Christ, the very Son of God, the authoritative and majestic King of King, riding on a mount fit for a hobbit or child.  Why would he do that?  He was laying claim to a prophecy found in Zechariah 9:9 . . .

Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! See, your King comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

So, at the outset of Holy Week, we are reminded that Jesus is a King, but he is unlike any king the world has ever known.  His Kingdom is coming, but it is not like the kingdoms of this world.  He will conquer, but his conquest does not come through military or political violence.  Rather, his victory comes only as he willingly endures that kind of violence.

Surprises in Jesus' "Sermon" at Nazareth

Last Sunday I began a new message series entitled "The Unexpected Kingdom."  Through Easter I will focus on Jesus' understanding of the Kingdom of God, and we distributed a booklet of daily devotions all based on Kingdom of God passages in Luke.

Much of Sunday's message, "Unexpected Announcements," focused on Jesus' visit to his hometown synagogue in Nazareth (Luke 4:16-30).  When given the opportunity, he read a portion of Isaiah 61:1-2, stopped, rolled up the scroll, and gave it back to the attendant.  None of this was surprising.  But, after he sat down, he began his teaching on the passage by saying, "Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing." 

That was unexpected!  To hear someone claim that a centuries-old messianic prophecy was being fulfilled TODAY . . . I'm not sure we can fathom how shocking that announcement was.  Jesus implicitly was saying, "I am the one God has anointed to do these things (preaching good news to the poor, freedom for prisoners, recovery sight for the blind, release the oppressed, and the inauguration of the Messianic Age)!

Joachim Jeremias, the great German scholar, says there was something else in this "announcement" that Jesus' listeners did not expect.  Jesus stopped the reading in the middle of a sentence.  He read, "to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor," but he excluded "and the day of vengeance of our God" (as well as all of Isaiah 61:3-7).

This probably upset the congregation because they wanted to hear that last part.  Israel had lived in subjection to a series of world powers--Egypt,  Babylonia, Persia, Greece, and now Rome.  Given that, it is not surprising that the people longed to hear how God was going to take retribution on their enemies.  They looked forward to the part about vengeance the way many people revel in the descriptions of judgment found in Left Behind novels.  Read any of the apocalyptic writings that were popular among the Jews in Jesus' time and this will be obvious.  But Jesus omitted "the day of vengeance."  Why?

Although he talks about God's judgment on numerous occasions, the point Jesus seems to be making here is that God's Kingdom is not a Kingdom of vengeance, but a hope-filled Kingdom, a realm in which the poor, the blind, and the oppressed get to see their deepest hopes fulfilled! 

This was a completely new insight for me, but it helps make sense of the entire story.  I always have been bothered by the sudden plot twists in this account.  Why did the people all speak well of him following his announcment (vs. 22), but six verses later are so furious that they want to toss their hometown hero off a cliff?

Jeremias says that the Greek used in verse 22 is ambiguous and contextual.  In other words, Luke tells us that the people were "astonished at what he said," which is not surprising given his announcement that the prophecy was fulfilled in their hearing.  However, Jeremias says that the language here could indicate "good" astonishment or "bad" astonishment -- it just depends on the context.  Therefore, he says it should be translated:  "They were all astonished at him because of the words of grace that came from his lips."  Notice "words of grace" rather than "gracious words." 

So, according to Jeremias' interpretation, Jesus intentionally stopped reading in the middle of Isa. 61:2 as a way of explaining the nature of God's Kingdom and that the Kingdom was open to Gentiles.  This astonished the people because they always had believed that the Kingdom of God was for His chosen people, i.e. the Jews!   Jesus' "words of grace" were offensive to them.  This is why he then cites the stories of the Sidonian widow (4:25-26) and of Naaman, the Syrian (4:27). 

From start to finish, then, Jesus used Isaiah 61:1-2 to say that:

1. the Kingdom of God has arrived;
2. that he is the herald and exemplar of the Kingdom;
3. that he has been anointed to bring good news to the least and the last; and
4. that the Kingdom is going to be much more inclusive than any of them had imagined. 

That made them mad.  It was a message that challenged their deepest prejudices.

Do you think any of my sermons will ever start a riot?!

Desperately Seeking Solace

In anticipation of the release of Tom Shadyac's new film, 'I Am', Mark Moring wrote about and conducted a thought-provoking interview with this successful movie director . . .

When budding film director Tom Shadyac hired a relatively unknown Jim Carrey in 1994 to make a silly movie called Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, the careers of both men exploded—and so did their bank accounts. Shadyac, who went on to direct The Nutty Professor, Liar Liar, Patch Adams, Bruce Almighty and Evan Almighty—several of them morality tales that reflected Shadyac's spiritual beliefs—dove right into the lifestyles of the rich and famous with huge Hollywood homes and expensive cars.

Tom Shadyac

As often happens, it wasn't long before Shadyac discovered that wealth and the accumulation of stuff didn't buy happiness. It hit him especially hard on his last mansion upgrade when, after the movers left and he was standing in the foyer all alone, he had what he calls a spiritual epiphany: Materialism isn't working.

Shadyac heard but ignored that small voice inside for a few more years until a 2007 bike accident left him with a concussion and then post-concussion syndrome, where he suffered migraine headaches, a constant ringing in his head, and severe mood swings. When he was depressed, he even wanted to die: "I was done," he said. He wondered, "If I were to die, what did I want to say to the world before I left?"

Eventually, Shadyac turned a corner in his recovery, and in doing so, re-evaluated his life and priorities. He embarking on a quest for the answers to two questions: "What's wrong with the world?" And, "What can I do about it?" He grabbed a small film crew and traveled the world in search of the answers, then turned all that footage into a new documentary called I Am, now showing in limited theaters. 

(To read Moring's interview with Shadyac as well as a review of the documentary, go to http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/movies/interviews/2011/seekingsolace.html?start=1)

Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Most Famous Poem

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a well-known German theologian and a leader of the German "Confessing Church" which refused to be co-opted by Hitler and the National Socialists.  He eventually was jailed and--ultimately executed--not long before the Allies successfully liberated Germany.

Bonhoeffer's best known books were The Cost of Discipleship and Life Together.  Although both of these have lots of food for though, it is his poem, "Who Am I?",  that haunts me.  It was published posthumously in his Letters and Papers from Prison.  Here is the best-known English translation of the poem:

Who am I? They often tell me I would step from my cell's confinement calmly, cheerfully, firmly, like a squire from his country-house.

Who am I? They often tell me I would talk to my warden freely and friendly and clearly, as though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me I would bear the days of misfortune equably, smilingly, proudly, like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell of, or am I only what I know of myself, restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage, struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat, yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds, thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness, trembling with anger at despotisms and petty humiliation, tossing in expectation of great events, powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance, weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making, faint and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who am I? This or the other? Am I one person today, and tomorrow another? Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others, and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling? Or is something within me still like a beaten army, fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.

Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine.

Your Brokenness Does Not Define You

John of Kronstadt, a 19th century Russian Orthodox priest, is credited with saying, "Your brokenness does not define you."  It's the newest of my favorite sayings.

At a time when his fellow-priests waited for the people to come to them, John actively searched in the streets for the alcoholics and other broken folk.  People said he would cradle foul-smelling gutter-dwellers in his arms and say to them, "This is beneath your dignity.  You were meant to house the fullness of God."

The singing group, Tenth Avenue North, has a song that says almost the same thing.  See what you think.
 

Thin-Slicing the Life of Faith

               Wow!  It's been almost two months since my last post.  Oh well, a breather every so often is probably a good thing, a "blog sabbatical," in this case.  However, I wanted to share some intriguing insights from Walter B. Shurden's journal.  Dr. Shurden was one of my church history professors and a life-long friend. . .

 

             In his national bestseller, Blink, (at last count on the NYT best list for 146 weeks) Malcolm Gladwell spoke of “thin-slicing.” “Thin-slicing,” he said, is “sifting through the information in front of us, throwing out all that is irrelevant while we zero in on what really matters” (pp. 34-35).

One day long ago in Jerusalem Jesus of Nazareth “thin sliced” two thousand years and 613 laws of his revered Jewish faith (Mk 12:28-31).  He cut through the density of theological history, the thickness of valued ritualism, the mass of doctrinal formulations and he went for essence. And he did not plead for more time “to think about it.” 

“Love God,” he said. “Love neighbor,” he said. In the blink of an eye, he thin-sliced Judaism and all genuine faith movements, including Christianity.

             In response to Jesus’ theological thin-slicing, the Pharisees, then and now, scream, “Theological reductionism! Doctrinal minimalism! Theology Lite! But what about the Sabbath and the hand washing?” 
 

And the Sadducees, then and now, retort, “But what about the work of the Temple? What about the liturgy? And the sacrifices?”  

And the Zealots, then and now: “Yeah, sure! Love neighbor! Tell that to the cross-building Romans!”

What do you think?  Was Jesus impractical?  Can we really follow him?