Jesus Wants to Save Christians

So, I've just come back from Grand Rapids, Michigan. While I was there I went to Rob Bell's church, Mars Hill. He planted this church several years ago, and it's grown into a huge mega church. They worship in a converted mall and people come in droves, etc. etc.

You might be surprised to hear I enjoyed my worship time there; it was creative in surprising ways; they spent good time and money preparing ministry for my children; there was a general buzz of joy and friendship.

In youth ministry circles, Rob Bell has become something of a celebrity. Early on in his career he made exegesis cool for the masses by taking his unique style on the road to Youth Specialties events and the like. At my last convention they handed out this book, Jesus Wants to Save Christians, to everyone who attended.

Over the last couple of weeks, I  engaged this book in an interesting way: I read it or listened to it, but I didn't do both. I also have it in audiobook format, so I would sometimes listen to it while I was in the bag yard putzing around, and I'd sometimes sit to read it. It may not be the best way to really to engage with someone's ideas.

That said, it was a thought provoking book, and if I hadn't recently been reading NT Wright, or had read George Eldon Ladd in seminary, then I would have been thoroughly captivated by his notion of the church in exile, already beholden to Christ as a bride but not yet fully at home with Him. This theological notion of being in the Already/Not Yet carries real consequences for those who are Christians. And this is where Bell wants to take his readers.

Salvation is not only from something (namely, sin) but also to something (namely, radically re-oriented life). And we are saved to this life in a world still straining away from redemption. So, we find ourselves in exile in our very own home town, in our own work places, sometimes in our own families. This book strives to introduce that reality to Christian community, especially for those who have not come against this understanding of salvation, or God's Kingdom before. We all need this reminder. After all, don't most of us (even those of us who know better) just blithely go on living our life in our little bubble of habit and safe acquaintances? Of course. And that's the ultimate call of this book: Let the pattern of Jesus Christ overtake you, living as one who is at home in exile ready to be spent on others.

Amen. And Amen.

Now, time to stop writing and start living in exile.

Not a bad view...

We're in Grand Rapids Michigan, seeing some very close family friends for the week. My friend is a carpenter and yesterday I traveled with him up to Pentwater MI right on the shore of Lake Michigan. He worked. I wandered around a very lazy town that supposedly buzzes during the summer. I believe it.

I sat here for a good chunk of the day yesterdeay, sipping coffee, listening to my iPod, and reading a bit. Overall, a very satisfying day.

This morning I met the sheriff, the coffee shop owner, and 5 regulars over coffee and a cinnamon roll. I don't think I've ever had an experience quite so quintessentially small town.

They were both warm and welcoming and very curious (in both senses of that word). We had a good talk about pastoring, evangelism, California, diversity, and a few more things beside.

Good times.

Big Blue

Do you remember where you first were when you realized you would never be the president? Perhaps you wondered where you went wrong... or pondered that one decision that lead to that other decision that lead to you being a middle-manager in a below average company with 2 kids, a spouse, and a mortgage rather than leading the free world through its latest crisis.

NT Wright has that effect on me. What's that you say? You haven't heard of him? He's no Barak Obama but in the world of the historical study of Jesus, in the world of biblical studies and theology, there are few who stand taller than NT Wright. He's absolutely brilliant, prolific, persuasive and irenic (although those last two might be prejudice on my part since I find myself wanting to agree with him often).

I just finished rereading Jesus and the Victory of God, a book which I sped through in seminary over 7 years ago. In it Wright strives to take a fresh look at Jesus in his historical context and build a portrait that is faithful to the source documents and to what we think we know about 1st century Israel (and Rome).

Some of you might know that saying 'Jesus' and 'history' can cause all sorts of controversy not least because of the speculative and media-grabbing work of the Jesus Seminar. As he strives to do the primary work of understanding Jesus, he has a secondary project of seeking to rehabilitate the discipline of rigorous historical inquiry for those who have come to mistrust its motives when it comes to Jesus, the Bible, and theology.

On both fronts, Wright is compelling. Starting with a summary of the various historical approaches to Jesus (studying Jesus has a history in its own right) he spirals into a method and conclusion that is thoughtful, 'new', satisfyingly faithful, and also troubling. Summarizing 600+ pages in this little post will never do, so I'll stop trying... Well, let me just take a hack at a one sentence summary:

Jesus is a a thoroughly 1st century Jew who self-consciously and purposefully gathered up the symbols, praxis, and expectation of the Jewish nation and recast them in faithful but surprising ways, announcing himself as the long awaited messiah who is in himself bringing unexpected restoration from the cycle of deepening exile that describes all nations and all people, not just Israel.

Whew! That was a mouthful. And I missed some stuff. You should read the book if you want to discover the gaps.

A friend of mine who used to work with a college ministry calls Wright's book 'Big Blue'. It's easy to see why. It's blue. It's a major paper-weight. But it's also weighty. Anyone who seeks to understand Jesus, or study Jesus on purely historical terms, must reckon with this book and its conclusions which are ultimately more orthodox than many might desire.

So, I'm no NT Wright. Never will be. I'm not even sure where I went wrong, but I can be sure I won't be contributing to the church, theology, or history the way he has. No one will be reading what I wrote 50 years from now... I'll have to come to terms with that.

Incidentally, I think not running for 7th grade student body president was my downfall in the world of US politics.

Getting My Hands Dirty

For years Amy has thought I should have been diagnosed with tactile defensiveness when I was a child. Maybe. I don't like finger paint. I avoid mud (even while playing soccer), slimy stuff, and even steered away from my own boyhood sandbox. Food texture is an important consideration for me when I consider what I like to eat.

Fatherhood has knocked out some of this. Babies are just messy - what goes in, and what comes out. And you just do what you have to do.

Still, Amy is at least partially right. And that's why I'm especially proud of this picture. Part of the health theme of my sabbatical was to try doing something I would not otherwise do: something creative, meditative, indulgent. I considered a number of things, but finally decided to accept a friend's gracious invitation to teach me pottery.

So, I go to his studio. We talk about clay. Handle clay. Center clay. Make clay slimy. Shape clay. And I love it. As I and my friend noticed it's easy to see how pottery turns into a spiritual experience. For me, the expression of friendship being extended to me was part of the spiritual experience. His hospitality was God's presence to me yesterday...

Back to the picture: it's a cut away of my first attempt at a cylinder. As I learn the various techniques at the pottery wheel we'll destroy more than we keep so I can see what's actually happening to the clay between my fingers. Yes, that's right, slimy and malleable clay right in my hands. I did that.

Without the impetus of my sabbatical there's no way I would have done this and I would be missing out. It makes me wonder, what else am I missing out on because I have some sort of undefinable and unjustifiable defensiveness: maybe I should take a hip-hop dance class. Maybe not.

Monday Morning Mentoring

I finished Monday Morning Mentoring by David Cottrell today. I'm sometimes embarrassed to admit I read management/business type books. I've never really explored why that might be, and I'm certainly not going to do that here. Embarrassment aside I occasionally find them helpful, sometimes convicting and often affirming (of my instincts at least if not my actual behavior).

This one didn't offer anything particularly new. The principles of management and supervision are told in the form of a narrative between a wrung out manager and an old family friend he turns to in a moment of overwhelmed panic. What I did like about this book was its emphasis on character as the core thing that must be developed, nurtured, and uncompromised as we work with others. Focusing on developing as a human being always trumps striving to be a better human doing.

My Study Place for the Day

I've taken to taking pictures of the various places I've been setting up as places to study. I have a couple more photos at home, but this is where I've been today, at a coffee shop on Park in Oakland.

Besides this, I've also had lunch with a number of fellow pastors I'm beginning to build relationships with. They are a remarkable and encouraging group of people.

When we were done they all trotted back to their churches and offices and I came back here.

On my way back here I started thinking, what would I do if the church told me I didn't have an office anymore? Would I feel less a pastor without a space? Would I be less?

It's a silly question I suppose, but I have been thinking a little lately about how much the space we occupy begins to inform our identity and our sense of self, sometimes even to our own detriment. And I realize I can be a pastor, perhaps even a really good one, and never step foot in an office again.

Not saying I don't want an office. Not saying I won't go back to utilizing my office. I'm just wondering: how does that gift of space actually shrink my pastoral work?

Some Call This Bravery

So, what did you do today? Today was our daughter's pep rally for a fund raiser they're having on Friday. For the past 3 years Amy and I have been the organizers and MC's for this pep rally. Each year we've come out onto the field dressed as super heroes in front of maybe 300 kids and another 75 adults. This year we included our oldest daughter and we've always had an 'official' with us too.

It's just pure ridiculousness. We get the kids to chant. Teacher's play a game. We remind them to get pledges. We run around shamelessly in our costumes. For those of you with youth ministry background, it's kind of like doing camp program. I'll admit that I'm never sure this is a good idea as we get ready for it. I mean, look how I'm dressed, and you can imagine how I have to act. But in the end, it's always been fun.

As we were packing up the car to go home, a number of the parents who were there drove by us on their way out. They yelled out their thanks and attaboys. And usually some other comment too. "I could never do that." Or, "You should take that on the road." Or, "That was hilarious." Or, "You are so brave."

That last one made me pull up and think for a minute.  I suppose it's true that not many parents would do what Amy and I did this morning. But it's not bravery. At best it's shamelessness.  For Amy and I, I am beginning to realize, we lose something more important than our dignity if we let our sense of adult importance block us from great memories, laughter, and relationship. In this, I take my lead from Amy who lives more unfettered by shame and embarrassment than anyone else I know.

Three cheers for being a willing fool.

Country of My Skull

I finished Country of My Skull by Antjie Krog today. Krog is a journalist (and accomplished poet) who was tasked to report on the Truth and Reconciliation Commission for SABC Radio (South African Broadcast Company). The book is a memoir of that period of her life and what the TRC meant to her personally, nationally.

There's no other way to say it, this is an exquisite book.  She artfully weaves actual TRC testimony, personal disclosure about her joys and ambivalences, and narrative of the public's embrace and rejection of this period in South Africa's history.

If books were written with a color palette, Krog uses very few primary colors. Krog herself is a liberal-minded, anti-apartheid, farm-country born Afrikaner, still deeply in love with her country and at times even her culture. I can only imagine it took every bit of her life as a poet to hold together the many hues of her life. Make no mistake, there is clarity. What happened during Apartheid, what it did to victim and perpetrator alike, is evil. Evil. EVIL. Yet there is also confusion, complexity, and exhaustion.

Toward the end of the book, she is able finally to say what is both obvious and painful. Reconciliation is not a process; it is recursive. In the course of human history, in clashes between peoples, it never ends. And it is the confusion of this realization I found beautiful, compelling, and disorienting.

I suppose Tutu's book I wrote about earlier is more popular and better known, but this is the better book.

The One That Got Away

Today I finished a collection of short stories by Zoe Wicomb, The One That Got Away. I chose the book because the author came recommended to me in a conversation after I revealed that some of my sabbatical reading would involve South African authors. I think I've mentioned that before. In short, as an attempt to expand my reading horizons but also constrain my choices, I chose connections to South Africa as a way to build up my reading list with non-ministry and non-theological offerings.

So, this collection is a set of interconnected short stories. They don't tell a unified narrative, rather we get to know the characters through a number of episodes. Excepting two stories, I'm not enthusiastic. Perhaps I've lost my taste for the short story form, which would be a sad thing and it's what I thought at first. But upon further reflection I realize I simply found it very difficult to connect to this round of characters and stories. Why should that be, two things:

For my taste, the narrative voice was too detached. It seemed to me very little invested in the characters themselves, and so I was led to that same place of distant observation. I don't like to read that way.

Second, I've wondered if I worked hard enough to appreciate the setting and world view of stories informed by an unfamiliar culture and history. This will only be settled for me as I read more of my South African block of reading. Perhaps I'll come back to these with greater appreciation later? Maybe not.