tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46511951912302671622024-03-06T01:05:06.725-08:00KensFootnotesThose odd bits of information in smaller print at the bottom of the page that are ignored by most, and valued only by those who have an interest in pursuing an idea just a little more. Generally, not particularly entertaining. Sometimes not as helpful as you had hoped . . . But which, every now and then, might contain something useful . . . or not.Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-77876221983913267962017-05-04T13:07:00.003-07:002017-05-04T13:07:58.175-07:00A Matter of Integrity<a href="http://spectrummagazine.org/article/2017/04/30/matter-integrity">Sermon referenced in Spectrum </a>Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-7125615020083777632016-11-30T07:43:00.002-08:002016-11-30T07:43:54.072-08:00A recent article for Spectrum can be found at http://spectrummagazine.org/article/2016/11/05/beastly-spirituality<br />
<br />Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-12551089359550182532016-11-09T07:47:00.000-08:002016-11-30T07:48:24.258-08:0011/9<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-23339773266850482952016-05-28T20:14:00.000-07:002016-05-28T20:18:20.607-07:00I appreciate the insights of Jimmy Carter on a number of issues, and sadly, I think he may prove to be on target with this one. Political theory aside, what he puts his finger on here is what is most troubling to me about the current conversation in our country.<br />
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http://www.nytimes.com/2016/05/24/us/jimmy-carter-racism-baptist-conference-unity-donald-trump.html?_r=0Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-8712685332015893342016-05-13T09:56:00.004-07:002016-05-13T09:58:42.467-07:00Insights from Bonhoeffer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-91196706688473934702016-05-08T00:49:00.000-07:002016-05-09T20:32:53.106-07:00Not Primarily a Political ConcernWhile I am not a member of any political party, and have little interest in political conversations for many of the same reasons as the person interviewed in the link I am sharing below, or am particularly impressed with or persuaded by the cheap political attacks that have already begun, and which will only increase as the election season comes into full bloom, I do resonate with the concerns reflected in the interview. Whatever one may or may not think about the political merits of positions that are taken by candidates of any party, this issues raised here are worth considering - not because information is spun to try to make a political point, but precisely because things are taken fully in context and at face value. But whatever conclusions one might come to on their own, what is shared here is worth the time to think carefully about.<br />
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https://www.yahoo.com/katiecouric/humans-of-new-yorks-brandon-stanton-on-trump-154634146.html?soc_src=social-sh&soc_trk=fb<br />
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For those interested, Greg Boyd does a good job of talking about political involvement from a Christian perspective. His comments are focused on politics in general, not necessarily those times when for moral reasons Christians should take a stance (e.g. World War II and the rise of Nazism in Germany when the church failed by not taking a position, or cases in which issues are greater than policy or political concerns. In fact, I think he is wrong in that he misses that some positions do have political implications at times, but in that respect, he is right in what he affirms and perhaps wrong in what he denies. Doing justly sometimes does involve supporting a political position, not because your hope is in political solutions, but because some political solutions are in harmony with - or closer to it than the alternative of - what Jesus invites us to care about and be committed to. In his illustration, he misses that being a Zelot as Simon was, was indeed out of harmony with what Jesus taught, even though Jesus called him.). you can find his comments here at http://whchurch.org/blog/11642/do-justice.Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-24112341723144648222016-05-07T23:50:00.003-07:002016-05-07T23:50:47.166-07:00The Rhythms We Move ToA recent Spectrum article can be found here at http://conversation.spectrummagazine.org/t/the-rhythms-to-which-we-move/10749Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-88180330644738161562015-01-29T08:37:00.000-08:002015-01-29T11:05:33.649-08:00Leaving Home<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zzPNF8gjus0-4rsEokW3O92U5Kg_UZlKg4AgQlABtOJSrpPOdrM9cyaSw17-EH91MDxTe-reO9SufFw5pXUPr8fEivfcHi2EVInI7ZRQXerbXpb4x68B7Ffqu7RIbAy6T-RHc3kTZaJf/s1600/leaving_home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zzPNF8gjus0-4rsEokW3O92U5Kg_UZlKg4AgQlABtOJSrpPOdrM9cyaSw17-EH91MDxTe-reO9SufFw5pXUPr8fEivfcHi2EVInI7ZRQXerbXpb4x68B7Ffqu7RIbAy6T-RHc3kTZaJf/s320/leaving_home.jpg" /></a>There is something that seems almost idyllic about growing up in a small home town where you know everyone and everyone knows you. Rootedness, shared traditions, familiar faces, safety -or if not that, at least predictability. Even if times are hard, or circumstances challenging, there is a certain rhythm of life that develops that resists change and challenge. We know who everyone is, where they live, where everything goes.<br />
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This week as I had the opportunity to reflect with some friends on the story of Jesus’ experience in his own home town of Nazareth (in the first half dozen or so verses of Mark 6) I was impressed again with the power of those dynamics. And I was reminded again of their persistence, and how often the contours of this story have continued to be mirrored in other stories down through the ages.
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Communities that have found a sense of identity together, and have pooled their resources to make a life together, sometimes not only find thinking about things in new ways challenging, but as Luke points out in his account of the story in Luke 4, sometimes their resistance can even turn to hostility.<br />
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In Nazareth, perhaps it was partially because Jesus was one of them. They had known Him and His family for years. They had seen Him grow up, done business with Joseph, chatted with Mary, watched He and His siblings grow and play. They must have felt that they knew who He was. What's more, they knew who they were. They knew the way it was supposed to be. They might even have experienced a bit of civic pride as they began to hear that Jesus was getting to be known in other places, and had attracted a bit of a following. Good things had been reported. People’s lives were being touched. Healing was being experienced. They were even open to Him taking the scroll and leading them in worship on the recorded Sabbath of His visit to His home town.
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But then things begin to come unraveled in Nazareth. Perhaps, as some of the more generous among them may have suggested, it was because Jesus was still new at this sort of thing, that He didn’t seem to get it. He makes suggestions that go against the grain of the way they had lived and thought about things; the implications of which, if accepted, would mean having to rethink what they believed about who He is, and who they are, and the direction their lives are going.<br />
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You can imagine the bewilderment many must have felt as they listened to this young rabbi Who had grown up among them, but Who was no longer seeming to fully appreciate His own heritage. You can imagine the pain of Jesus as He tries to open His heart to them about who He really is, and what He is being called to do with His life, even as He knows that they can’t, or simply won’t, really hear Him. This was His home. These were the people who had surrounded Him as He had grown up. This was the town in whose streets He had walked, and the people with whom He had shared meals, and stories, and Himself so many times over the years. These were the people who He may most have wished could hear Him.<br />
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It was hard for them. It was hard for Him. And according to Mark, it was so hard, that there was little of what Jesus felt so called to do that He could actually do among them. Old patterns are hard to change, and because of that, we often miss the gifts that we could otherwise share with each other.<br />
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As I reflected on these passages, an old song came to mind by Cat Stevens entitled “Father & Son,”which, in a more gentle way than the scriptural story, captures these dynamics. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ml0Mtgw0mQk)<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Ml0Mtgw0mQk" width="560"></iframe><br />
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I noticed that our pastor is preaching on the parable of wineskins this coming weekend, and thought, there it is again - the same story wrapped in symbol. And as I reflect on the journey of my own faith community, as our church struggles with the difficultly of listening to the voices of those who have grown up in our midst, and whom we know so well on one level, but have failed to adequately listen to on others, I was reminded that the story and the dynamics continue still.<br />
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Sometimes it is as gentle as the still painful conversation reflected in the song. Sometimes the reaction is as hostile as what Jesus experienced in Nazareth. But still we are invited to listen to what God is doing. Pouring new wine into old wineskins it seems, is always a challenging proposition.<br />
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The good news is, that not everyone in any of the stories remains bogged down in the dynamics, but that are always some who respond to the invitation to listen, reflect, and consider the way forward. And there is no imposed cap on the number of people who are invited to do so.<br />
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Yet, I am still struck by how painful and lonely that path so often can feel, and the level of hostility it can generate. But I am also encouraged by the healing that can be experienced and extended when the decision is made to follow.<br />
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I can’t help but think that Jesus took the best that Nazareth had to offer with Him as He traveled and interacted with the world around Him. I could wish that He might have found more welcome than hostility there though. Perhaps Nazareth changed over the years. I’d like to think it did. There is no reason that it could not have, which is why there is hope for many of the hometowns that have grown up since that one. But however that plays out, it is the call to listen, reflect, and follow . . . to hold the wineskins more loosely in our hands than the wine . . . that is where the real hope resides.Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-53335871512574039652014-08-10T22:57:00.005-07:002014-08-10T22:57:59.317-07:00Still Talking Contemplative SpiritualityFor the next segment in Bob and Jerry's on-going conversations over breakfast, go to http://spectrummagazine.org/article/ken-curtis/2014/08/08/still-talking-contemplative-spiritualityKen Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-65839704004070566142012-11-22T09:29:00.000-08:002012-11-22T09:29:37.216-08:00Thanksgiving Wisdom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thanksgiving is often a time for being together with family, listening to stories, remembering our shared history. It's a time for being enriched by the insights and wisdom of those members of the family who have been around for a long time and have seen a lot, and enjoying the freshness and exuberance of those who are at earlier places along the way. This morning I found in my in-box a quote from one of the great grandmotherly figures of our church community, whose insight and wisdom is always worth reflecting on. I found it helpful, and so thought I would pass it on without further comment. Happy Thanksgiving!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">One man may be conversant with the Scriptures, and some particular portion of the Scripture may be especially appreciated by him; another sees another portion as very important, and thus one may present one point, and another, another point, and both may be of highest value. This is all in the order of God. But if a man makes a mistake in his interpretation of some portion of the Scripture, shall this cause diversity and disunion? God forbid. We cannot then take a position that the unity of the church</span></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i> consists in viewing every text of Scripture in the very same light. The church may pass resolution upon resolution to put down all disagreement of opinions, but we cannot force the mind and will, and thus root out disagreement. These resolutions may conceal the discord, but they cannot quench it and establish perfect agreement. Nothing can perfect unity in the church but the spirit of Christlike forbearance. Satan can sow discord; Christ alone can harmonize the disagreeing elements. Then let every soul sit down in Christ's school and learn of Christ, who declares Himself to be meek and lowly of heart. Christ says that if we learn of Him, worries will cease and we shall find rest to our souls.</i> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> - Ellen White, 11MR 266.1. </span></span></span></blockquote>
Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-47860531517191628772012-07-30T12:44:00.001-07:002012-08-13T21:07:59.058-07:00Continuing a Fictitious Conversation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">In the same quiet café, Jerry and Bob, two good friends, gather once again for their weekly breakfast conversation about their lives, family, church, and their own unique growing edges. This week, they continue to pursue a conversation which began the week before (see previous post) about some books Jerry has been reading, the questions they are raising, and how they relate to his spiritual life. Breakfast has already been ordered, and a few updates shared. We join their conversation already in progress . . . </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Bob </b><i> I can see by what you've said already that these books really have been unsettling for you.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="background-color: #e0e0e0; color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">J</b><span style="background-color: white;"><b style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">erry<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b><i style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">You're right about that. After our conversation last week, I was thinking that I had things pretty well in perspective . . . and I think I did . . . but what I did not expect was that there would be so much more.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;" /><b style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">Bob </b><i style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">More than just the practice of reflecting on God's graciousness at the end of the day that we talked about last week?</i></span>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Oh yes, much more! That was just the beginning!</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><b>Bob</b><i> So what are some of the other concerns?</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><b>Jerry</b><i> I don't think we have enough time here this morning to touch on all of them.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><b>Bob</b><i> Well then, give me an example or two.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b> <i>OK, to start with, there is this practice called "lectio divina" that the books I am reading say is infiltrating the church everywhere and leading people astray.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Oh, OK. I am familiar with that practice. It is a way of reading scripture that literally means, in Latin, "divine reading." I am not sure I would use the word "infiltrating" in connection with it though.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Yes, it is a Latin phrase, the language of the Catholic Church, which gives you a clue about it's origin.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob </b><i> Well, to be more accurate, it was the language of much of the scholarship at the time that we begin hearing about lectio divina being used. It was not exclusive to the Catholic Church. But, many church documents from that era were indeed written in Latin, so I guess that should not be too surprising to find a Latin label for the practice. As I recall, it was used a lot in monasteries, and much of the scholarly material there was also in Latin, or perhaps Greek. While Latin sort of came to be the "official language" of the Roman Catholic church, it was certainly not limited to the church at the time.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> But lectio divina was used by people at monasteries, right?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Yes, it was one of the ways that those who came to the monasteries studied and reflected on scripture.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Yes, and that is what they say makes the practice so dangerous.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Because it was used at a monastery?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Well, yes, because, for one thing, that means it has Catholic origins. But is is also because it is such a mystical practice.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Catholic origins? Well, I suppose you could say that. Of course you could say that about pretty much any religious writing that happened in church history up to the reformation, because, aside from a few relatively small groups of believers here and there (and of course scholars tell us there were other diverse Christian communities all over the place too), in very general terms "catholic" is kind of a blanket term that describes most Christians at the time. In fact, up until the Great Schism of 1000 AD when the church leadership split between Rome (Roman Catholics) and Constantinople (Eastern Orthodox), pretty much everyone was considered "catholic" since the word simply means "universal." Even the reformers that came later on thought of themselves as "catholic" until they broke away from the church.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Well, OK, so maybe it doesn't make much sense to use the "catholic" label that way, but what about the "mystical" part of the practice? Doesn't that sound a bit concerning to you?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> I guess it depends on what you mean by "mystical" I mean, simply being someone who believes in a God that is real and at work in the world makes you "mystical" on some level, doesn't it?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> I suppose . . . but the way the term is used in the books I've been reading . . . they use it to refer to people who are going off into strange trances, or having out of body experiences, or encountering spirits of some sort, or engaging in some kind of eastern mysticism, or being led astray by some kind of inner subjective experiences. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Well, that sounds interesting, but I am not sure what that has to do with lectio divina.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> The books say that is what it is all about</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Really? Maybe there are some "mystical type people" (in the sense they are using the word) that may practice things like lectio divina or other things that look like it, who have experiences like that, but that is not what the way the practice is used today by any Christian groups I know of . . . and I know of quite a few . . . and have actually read a lot of their stuff about it.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry </b><i>That's sure not how they make it sound in the books I'm reading.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Which makes me wonder if the people who are writing those books have really taken the time to talk with the people who actually use those practices today, or have really, carefully, studied them, so that they fully understand what they are talking about. Sometimes it is easy to read into things, ideas that you think are there when in fact they are not. Talking with the real people, or reading things in context in many places today is becoming an endangered skill!</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> So, you are saying, that lectio divina is probably not a dangerous thing to engage in?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Do you even know what lectio divina is?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Well, not exactly . . . I mean, not beyond the way it is described in what I am reading. What exactly is it?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> In a nutshell, it is simply a way of reading scripture that invites you to pay attention to what the passage is saying, and what God might be saying to you in the passage.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Doesn't sound too dangerous so far . . .</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> You think?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Go on . . .</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> In the classical way it was practiced it had 3 or 4 parts that can be summarized as follows: <b>Reading</b> (that's the "lectio" part) in which you slowly and reflectively read (or listen to someone read) a passage of scripture through several times; <b>Reflecting</b> (sometimes referred to "Ruminatio" or "Meditatio" ) in which you sort of "chew on" whatever seems to be impressing you about the passage you are reading (sometimes this is seen as two steps, other times they are combined); <b>Resting </b>or enjoying the sense of being with God as you do this (sometimes referred to as "contemplatio" which is what we get the word "contemplation" from); and then finally <b>talking to God</b> about what you are getting out of the passage ("oratio" or oration - what you might say or speak in response). That is the basic "pattern" of "lectio divina." It's not all that complicated or particularly mysterious - and the parts don't even have to happen in any particular order - or all of them happen all of the time. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Well, that doesn't sound like anything too troublesome, although the Latin words might be hard to keep track of.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Well, since you don't speak Latin, you probably don't need to worry about the words. In fact, a lot of people who find this kind of practice helpful don't use the language at all.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry </b><i> So, if I understand this right then, all we are talking about is taking unhurried time to read scripture, reflect on what it means as we try to pay attention to what God might be trying to communicate to us in that passage, sitting with it awhile as we enjoy being with God, and then talking with God about what we have learned?</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Yup, that's about it. Although, there are a lot of variations of the process that you will find in how it is used. For example, some have structured it as (1) Reading scripture through once, paying attention to what you seem drawn to in the passage (2) reading it through again, this time noticing any feelings or emotions that you notice associated with what you are drawn to, and then (3) reading it a third time, this time paying attention to what it is that God might be calling you towards or inviting you to consider from reading the passage. That's another variation on the practice, but the basic movement is the same.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry </b><i> Yeah, I can see that. Basically, its taking unhurried time to be with God in scripture, noticing what God might be wanting you to see there, and then responding to what you are learning - all the while doing so realizing God is with you in the process. Doesn't sound like there is anything very sinister about that?</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Nope. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Then what is all the hoopla about?</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob </b><i> There are lots of reasons that people get concerned about things. Sometimes there are "issues" behind the "issues" which are not obvious or may even be unconscious, that drive concerns like this. Sometimes it might be because of a previous bad experience that was of such a nature that they now read that experience into others that seem similar, but in reality, may not be at all. Sometimes it might be because something is practiced by someone they don't like or disagree with for other reasons and so it becomes a matter of guilt by association. Still other times, especially if they think a conspiracy of some sort is involved, people can begin to see connections between things that are really not there. They may know just enough to connect things together that seem to be similar or related, but may not know quite enough to fully understand the things they are connecting, and in the process wind up distorting or misconstruing things, sometimes smearing the names of people connected with these things in the process.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> And I suppose the more you think there is a conspiracy of some sort at work, the more anxiety can get injected, and that can raise the level of intensity to the point that people stop really listening to each other, and only start listening for things they want to hear . . . kind of like what often happens in political conversations.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Yes, and pretty soon it's not about listening and understanding each other any more, but simply asserting the point you want to make, without much regard to the damage done in the process.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> But, something else I wonder about, is whether or not this is a good way to read scripture. I mean it sounds kind of subjective . . . like the text could be wind up saying just about anything. Shouldn't we be concerned about solid background study, context, meanings of words, and stuff like that, rather than just about how the text may impress us?</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> That is an excellent question, and one that gets at the heart of how a practice like this can be misused. The answer is, "Of course we should!" What people sometimes forget is that this practice arose in the context of monasteries among scholars who were doing the best they knew how to do just that. Lectio Divina is not a practice that replaces careful Biblical study, or even contrasts with it - but rather, you bring the best scholarship and information you have with you as you engage the practice. The better you know and understand the text and what it is trying to say in its own context, the more clearly we can hear how God might like us to see how that text applies to our lives. Good scholarship actually helps us to hear more clearly!</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Oh, so it is not "either or," it's "both and"!</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob.</b><i> Exactly! Of course there is a difference between entering into an academic conversation (which is primarily focused on information) and a personal one (which is mostly focused on getting to know someone and being responsive to them as a person) . . . all you have to do as ask your spouse, and they can tell you the difference . . . but information and careful listening do not have to be antagonistic to each other, they actually can enhance each other.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Yes, that makes sense! But you know, on another note, some of the books I've been reading do point out things about people who use things like lectio divina that I really don't agree with. What about that? </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Well, that is really nothing new either. People always explain what they are doing in the context of what they believe. If, for example, I believe that when I die I go immediately to heaven, when I am sharing what is on my heart at a funeral service, I will probably make my comments in a way that reflects that belief - because that is the only way I know how to explain what I am thinking. If however, I believe that when I die I rest in God's loving embrace until the resurrection morning when I am raised to life again, any comments I make will very likely reflect that belief for the same reasons. But we already know this, and make these mental adjustments all the time when we are talking to and listening to each other - appreciating the point or idea they are expressing even if we would explain it a slightly different way. Which is why, however much we may disagree or think differently about the state of the dead, we can still find great value in the funeral service itself as we meet together to mourn our loss, celebrate a life that was lived, and look forward in hope.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> It really would be sad to refuse to take part in a funeral service, or see funerals as part of some sort of deceptive conspiracy, or be afraid of them, simply because people explained things differently, or because we did not fully agree with everything that everyone there believed. That would kind of be like throwing out the proverbial baby with the bathwater.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> I agree. But now that we have solved another of the great issues of life for the day, there are some other issues I also need to get to before too long. (Bob picked up the check while Jerry went through his pockets to summon up enough money to leave as a tip)</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Jerry</b><i> Yes, I need to get going too. But I am glad we've had time to talk. There are so many more questions I have from these books . . . maybe we can get to them next week.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Bob</b><i> Sounds good! </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><i>After praying together, and leaving a generous tip, Bob and Jerry parted company for the morning, though they would often return to bits and pieces of their conversation together as they went about their tasks for the day. As they left the cafe and stepped into the flow of people traffic on the sidewalk outside, the sun was just emerging from behind the clouds, and a soft breeze was beginning to blow. <span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i></span></span></div>
Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-77653629402909861312012-06-18T01:48:00.000-07:002012-10-26T17:35:34.243-07:00A Fictitious Conversation<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-weight: normal;">In a quiet café, two friends gather each week for breakfast, to encourage each other in their spiritual life, share insights from the Bible, pray for each other and their families, and nurture their friendship. They have been doing this for quite some time. On this morning, after exchanging a few pleasantries and inquiring about each other’s family’s, they settle into this conversation.</span><br />
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<b>Jerry<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b><i>I’ve been reading a book this week that has really been troubling to me.</i><br />
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<b>Bob </b><i>Really, in what way?</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>In terms of my devotional life, and the time I spend with God</i>.<br />
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<b>Bob </b><i>How so?</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>Well for a lot of years, I’ve had the practice of taking a little time at the end of the day to pray, and reflect on those times during my day when I saw evidence of grace, or God at work in the lives of people around me . . . as well as those times when I could have been more gracious to others, but wasn’t. </i><br />
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<b>Bob </b><i>Yeah. I do something similar. It can be a very meaningful way to reflect and pray.</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>That’s what I thought too . . . but that was before I knew where this idea came from.</i><br />
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<b>Bob </b><i>Why would that matter? I mean, why wouldn’t you want to take some time to be in prayer like that?</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>Well, I guess it matters, at least to the guy who wrote the book. Because, you see, the person who seems to have first written this down and urged people to do it was a guy named Ignatius of Loyola.</i><br />
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<b>Bob </b><i>Yeah . . . so . . .</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>Well, as it turns out, Ignatius was a Jesuit. In fact, he was the founder of the order of Jesuits. And as you know from history, Jesuits have been involved in a lot of pretty horrible things down through the years!</i><br />
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<b>Bob </b><i>That’s true . . . as have a lot of people who go by the name of Christian! Ever read about how many of the followers of Martin Luther treated the Anabaptists? Besides, people who have been a part of that order have come up with some good and helpful stuff over the years. There are lots of people I don’t fully agree with about everything that still have some great contributions to make. And besides, do you really want to define people solely by the actions of others who are a part of the group they belong to?</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>I guess not. But still, the book I am reading argues that since Ignatius was a Jesuit, and he promoted this practice . . . well . . . that it would be dangerous to use it. I mean, couldn’t we be led astray or deceived by this? Not only that, it's pretty clear that he was a devoted Catholic . . . and I am a protestant . . . so what I believe does differ in a number of ways!</i><br />
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<b>Bob </b><i>Yes it does. And yet . . . I suspect that Ignatius probably also paid his bills on time, taught that we should honor our father and mother, and was against stealing and adultery too. Certainly there are some significant theological points we differ on and which should not be minimized, but there are lots of things that we would very much agree upon as well.</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>But that’s just the problem! How do I know that something “bad” is not being slipped in along with some of the “good” things we might agree about? </i><br />
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<b>Bob </b><i>Sort of like a trojan horse or something?</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>Well, yeah.</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Well, aside from the fact that it is always possible that we might not have everything right either, and that maybe we have a few things we could learn too (there is always that possibility you know) . . . to apply a good “protestant” principle here . . . if we are listening carefully to scripture and staying focused on Jesus, we should be able to notice where God has given people good insights to share that we can appreciate, and where there are things we would not be willing to accept. We make decisions and choices like this all the time.</i><br />
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<b>Jerry<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b><i>But doesn't that sound kind of risky?</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Maybe, but no more so than anything else. It’s the way we deal with anything we believe, whether it is from a person like Ignatius who may give us some great insights on ways to pay attention to God, or Mother Theresa who models for us what a genuine life of Christian service can look like, or any one of a number of other people who we might not agree with about everything, but who still have significant things to share. </i><br />
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<b>Jerry<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b><i>But we should consider the source, shouldn’t we?</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Yes, we should. But we also need to understand that people are not fully defined by where they come from, or even what group they are associated with. “Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?” “Your master eats with tax collectors and sinners!” </i><br />
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<b>Jerry<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b><i>Yeah, or when the disciples told Jesus that they had seen someone doing good things in Jesus name, and they told them to stop because they were not part of their particular group . . .</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Yes -- Jesus told them to leave them alone. I wonder why it is so hard for us to believe that God might actually be working in the lives of people who are not just like us . . . or to make it sound like everyone who is not just like us, or sees things just as we do, are part of a great spiritual conspiracy?</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>But there is evil at work in the world though, and it would like nothing more than to lead people astray. What could be a more effective way of doing this than by creating a bunch of misleading and false religious ideas?</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>That is quite true. And it is something we need to take very seriously. Both the scriptures, and a brief survey of the history of the church, clearly demonstrate what happens when religion becomes twisted and distorted into something destructive in the lives of people. The Old Testament is full of prophecies that urge us not to lose sight of what is at the core of what we believe by absorbing the practices of the culture God’s people found themselves in that undermined a clear understanding of God’s character, and how we are called to live in response to the love and graciousness that God shares with us. Jesus is clear about this as well, and in fact, is crucified by those whose religious sensitivities had been distorted in a way that justified crucifixion. That kind of evil is much more insidious than we image, and is something against which we need to constantly be on guard. That is the kind of thing that takes shape in the "beastly" forms that major powers in the world unite around, and which the book of Revelation describes.</i><br />
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<b>Jerry<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b><i>So, you think that the book I’m reading is on the right track then, when it warns about being deceived by taking part in practices like the ones people like Ignatius encouraged?</i><br />
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<b>Bob </b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Well, do you think that the practice of reflecting on God’s grace and how you did or didn’t respond to it each day is something that leads you into the kind of stuff that the Bible so clearly warns against?</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>Well . . . no . . . in fact, it seems like the very kind of thing the Bible encourages us to do.</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>From all that you have read in scripture, do you honestly think that this would be something that God would not want you to do? </i><br />
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<b>Jerry</b> <i> Actually . . . no.</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>So, why then would you want to stop doing it? </i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>Because the book I am reading suggests that, because it is so clearly described by Ignatius, that there must be something wrong with it, and therefore I can’t safely engage in it.</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>And did you know that Ignatius also encouraged people to pray, and even to read scripture? Would you be willing to stop doing those things as well?</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>Of course not!</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Why?</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>Because . . . I can’t help the fact that people who I may not fully agree with about everything, or who may belong to a group that sometimes has done things that I can’t support . . . might still get some things right!</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Exactly. The Bible calls that the gift of discernment. Making Spirit led decisions about what is and is not the right thing to do based on what the scriptures actually do say.</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Even if the people don’t fully believe everything I believe to be true?</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Jerry, are you fully comfortable with every decision or everything that David did in his life? Or Solomon? Or many of the others who contributed to the scriptures? Have you ever noticed how people like Abimelech, someone who clearly was not one of God’s “chosen people” at the time, still managed to have something from God to share with Abraham? We don’t have to compromise anything to realize that God can give insights to anyone God wants to without getting it approved by us first.</i><br />
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<b>Jerry <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b><i>Well, so what about the book and the concerns it raises?</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>To the extent that the book warns us about the reality that we can be led astray by allowing things that are not rooted in the values of God’s Kingdom to take root in our lives, it may have a point . . . but it sounds to me like it loses track of the real point quite quickly. Have you ever considered that the book might actually be more of an illustration of the problem than a description of it?</i><br />
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<b>Jerry </b><i>Oh . . . yes . . . I see what you mean . . . maybe so.</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>People often fear what they don’t understand. I know that sometimes I react that way. And when that happens, sometimes, our fear of things like being deceived can actually become a barrier to understanding the truth, sometimes to the point that we miss the things that we really should be concerned about. Then as that fear feeds on itself, we can get stuck in a self-perpetuating loop.</i><br />
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<b>Jerry</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Yeah, I can see how that happens. In fact, I have been there myself at various times in my life. Sometimes it is made even harder if we are feeling somehow threatened in some way, or because we want to protect the things that matter to us. That's when we can over-react, and sometimes portray people and ideas in ways that are not only unfair, but sometimes even untrue.</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Yes. And once the idea of “conspiracy” has been invoked, then any attempt at getting people to listen to each other, or simply look at all the facts fairly, or to consider the validity of the assumptions that are often made, runs the risk of simply being seen as part of the conspiracy.</i><br />
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<b>Jerry<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b><i>And so we can get locked even more tightly into the spiral, and become unable to hear or understand anything that does not already agree with what we have already decided.</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> <i> Yeah . . . </i></span><i>But having said that, we really don’t have to stay there. I still believe that, if we are willing to be responsive to the Spirit, we can learn to listen to each other fairly and honestly once again.</i><br />
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<b style="background-color: white;">Jerry </b><span style="background-color: white;"><i>Perhaps if we were willing to take the rhetoric in books like this one down a notch or two , and listen more carefully and non-reactively before we act, or write, or repeat what we have heard . . .</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b>Bob</b></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="background-color: white; white-space: pre;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">. . . <i>Then even though we might still not see everything the same way, we might at least come to understand each other better - both in terms of the good things that are shared that we should embrace, as well as the things we may not wish to incorporate into our lives.</i></span><br />
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<b>Jerry<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b><i>And if we could do that, we might even be able to see more clearly, and discern more wisely, just where the real deceptions are that are working at cross purposes with what Jesus came to show us, and invite us to be a part of. Otherwise, we’ll likely wind up getting diverted, and miss the forest for the trees.</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>And maybe even find ourselves working at cross purposes with God?</i><br />
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<b>Jerry<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b><i>Perhaps that is where the real heresy lies?</i><br />
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<b>Bob</b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> <i>P</i></span><i>erhaps. Which may be why intentionally keeping Jesus in focus is the best thing we can do when it comes to protecting ourselves from being deceived.</i><br />
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<b>Jerry<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b><i>Seems easy enough, doesn’t it?</i><br />
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<b>Bob<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b><i>Wonder why we make it so hard sometimes?</i><br />
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The waitress handed Bob the check, but Jerry insisted on paying for it this time. They took a few moments to pray for each other, gathered up their things, and stepped out on to the sidewalk, each ready to embrace the day more thoughtfully than when they arrived.Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-82702464667277434182012-03-16T01:07:00.001-07:002012-03-16T16:25:55.769-07:00One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVMSme51wg3W96pmCwIAZYJbzD0lKryV0Rs1-W8Ca25HqUFB1ek36okVvuAdfnaQ2-tG8LrNey4z_BoUzE2NPT6134yELHS95I1MQFdi6rdOQH4M5NDux988P3_e6dFfTb1EKgQAPVC3Y3/s1600/Jesus.All.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVMSme51wg3W96pmCwIAZYJbzD0lKryV0Rs1-W8Ca25HqUFB1ek36okVvuAdfnaQ2-tG8LrNey4z_BoUzE2NPT6134yELHS95I1MQFdi6rdOQH4M5NDux988P3_e6dFfTb1EKgQAPVC3Y3/s320/Jesus.All.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've been through a number of places and things since I last posted here. Some invigorating, some perplexing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've listened in sadness to the stories of former members of the church community to which I belong (some of the actual congregation where I worship, and some from other congregations) who somehow managed to miss the love and graciousness of God there. There are lots of reasons for this, some of them quite significant, but one of them <b><i>is not</i></b> that God in the richness of God's love and grace was not present there, or at work, or the gospel proclaimed . . . but rather that, somehow, Jesus being the center of it all was somehow missed. At least that is what seems to have happened for them. And when that happens, things get distorted, and people get hurt. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But oddly enough, though they are now in a place where they feel they understand the gospel, the scriptures and love of God more than they did before, what struck me was that how they were now defining themselves was more in terms of what they were against than Who they were for. Sadly, in the wake of that, in the rigidness of their new doctrinal beliefs, their understanding of the church they left has become as distorted as the experience they describe having had within it. Somehow, it seemed to me at least, that Jesus being the center of it all was still being missed in some significant ways. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One another occasion, I had an opportunity to have a conversation with someone who was quite concerned about what they felt were deceptive practices and influences that were infiltrating the church - things that they referred to under the category of "spiritual formation." Interestingly enough, when I described to them the various practices that come under that heading, only with their labels removed (things like reflecting on a passage of scripture, taking time to enjoy being unrushed and undistracted in prayer, simply enjoying being in the presence of God, or intentionally taking time to think about those times during the day when we were aware of God's grace being manifest, or of things we did or observed hindering that grace, etc. ) they were very comfortable with those experiences. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">However, once the labels were applied (meditation, contemplative prayer, or the practice of examin) they suddenly become suspect. After all, aren't those things that eastern mystics and Jesuits do? How do we know we are not being deceived? Indeed, how do we know that about anything . . . as if we need to avoid all things we have in common with those who we may disagree with on some things! Of course there are significant distinctions between the way meditation is practiced in an eastern religion and how it is practiced in a Christian setting, and lots of ways that otherwise good and healthy practices can be misused, but it seems that the exercise of discernment is not nearly as appealing as the application of labels and the identification of potential enemies. Once again, I was struck by how much we tend to cling to the things that make us anxious or to which we are opposed in order to know who we are, as if simply focusing on Jesus and what Jesus is all about is not enough to define us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Whether it is within or without the community in which I worship and find fellowship, there are plenty of things that can go awry when we begin to define ourselves more in terms of what we are against than what (Who) we are for. That is why it was both so refreshing and challenging to hear about the <b>One</b> project. While this probably speaks the most directly to the Adventist community (mainly because it is Adventists talking among themselves, and thus reflects some of our quirkiness), I also think that has much to say to the broader Christian community as well - of which Adventists, at least when we are at our best, are a part. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. . . All of which brings me to what I really wanted to share - the link to the One website where you can explore (check out the many video presentations), listen, be refreshed, challenged, and perhaps reminded once again about the One. Enjoy!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://www.the1project.org/">http://www.the1project.org/</a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For some additional comments and reflections on the One project, you might also be interested in Nathan Brown's article </span><a href="http://www.atoday.org/article/1076/blogs/brown-nathan/a-tale-of-two-gatherings">http://www.atoday.org/article/1076/blogs/brown-nathan/a-tale-of-two-gatherings</a><br />
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And if that is not enough, you can also listen to some of my reflections on the reasons why we sometimes miss Jesus in the midst of all this at the link that follows (The sermon is "Living with Anxiety - or Not" on 2-25-2012) <a href="http://www.calimesasda.com/media.php?pageID=11">http://www.calimesasda.com/media.php?pageID=11</a>Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-42542548488844694732011-02-07T09:30:00.000-08:002011-02-07T09:30:16.287-08:00Wholly Jesus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYsG_5asZpKz-ElgvpzaVlWDnyfhkoo7qDrKrqgVhNxgdLAMCXDDIDMfMO9-y77lnX0fwYboEUAxfXNo8pCs0SyCwZxVSbaoZxurJkUKMauf7RI9xt0Oa1SewG7FJKSBDG08btogbll3LE/s1600/wholly+Jesus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYsG_5asZpKz-ElgvpzaVlWDnyfhkoo7qDrKrqgVhNxgdLAMCXDDIDMfMO9-y77lnX0fwYboEUAxfXNo8pCs0SyCwZxVSbaoZxurJkUKMauf7RI9xt0Oa1SewG7FJKSBDG08btogbll3LE/s200/wholly+Jesus.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Wholly Jesus</b></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Since I was awake anyway (the phone having rung in the pre-dawn hours of the morning because someone could not find a key to a church vehicle and thought I might have one - which I did) I took the opportunity to finish up a book I had been reading by Mark Foreman entitled <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wholly-Jesus-Surprising-Approach-Wholeness/dp/098177055X">Wholly Jesus</a>. Mark Foreman is a pastor of a Calvary Chapel church in a beach community in southern California, and in this book he shares a little of his own story and reflections on his spiritual journey. Exactly why it is that my own reflections on his reflections managed to push past a number of unfinished posts that somehow have never made it out of the "draft" folder, I'm not sure (it may have as much to do with untimely phone calls as anything else), but there are a couple of things about his book that I think are worth sharing.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">First, I am always intrigued when someone "outside" of the Adventist faith community does such a good job of articulating a theme that Adventists have often thought of as being one of their more unique contributions. Not only is this a helpful reminder to me (and maybe even others in my faith community as well) that we don't "own" the insights that we get the privilege of sharing, but also that God is not limited to or dependent on us to share them. Both the encouragement and humility that this provides is a good thing, as it reminds us that we are not alone, and perhaps much more connected with others than we might realize at times.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> What's more, there is a richness in listening to familiar insights coming from fresh voices which frame things such that we are able to hear old truths in new ways, which can give us a perspective that we might otherwise miss through over familiarity with our own language. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Second, because he writes as an evangelical pastor, from a perspective that evangelical Christians can easily tune into, it seems to me that he has a better chance of being read and heard by many who identify with that community, and who might not otherwise be drawn to the kinds of insights he is sharing. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And third, I appreciate the way he invites is to more fully loosen our hold on the way that Greek philosophy has shaped the thinking of the church over the years, and to embrace once again the view of the Kingdom of God that was central to the message of Jesus and the New Testament - one that is not just about waiting for an ideal to be realized in a world to come, but one that is about living differently right now in the world we find ourselves in. A kind of Kingdom life that is not just about what the spiritual part of us will finally experience in the future, but rather a kind of life in which every aspect of our lives feel the impact and transformation beginning right now, as <i>whole people</i>, following a <i>Wholly Jesus</i>.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In any case, since this is not intended to be a book review but rather just a few reflections, I won't go into a lot of detail here, except to say that he does a very good job of unpacking the wholeness of people in a way that not only mirrors what one finds in the Adventist faith community, but which also challenges Adventists to continue to live out the full implications of that emphasis. This is especially important for a faith community that often defines itself by it's desire to "make people whole" but too often stops short of fully appreciating all that that entails. One of the ways he does this is illustrated in a short story he shares about the experience of a girl named Christy, and how the failure of her church to fully embrace this aspect of the Kingdom has impacted her life:</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </div><blockquote style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Her youth pastor told her that Jesus didn't care about world peace, only the apocalypse. He didn't care about the wellness of the body, only the soul. He didn't care about the people of other faiths, only Christians. He didn't care about art and culture. He didn't care about ecology; the planet was going to burn anyway. And he didn't care about the integration of science and her faith. And the reason she could be sure Jesus didn't care about these things is because none of these things were mentioned in the Bible. Jesus just wanted her to pray, read her Bible and tell others about him. But eventually the tension between the real world and this fabricated youth-pastor's world snapped. In order to be true to herself and her passion about these issues, she had to abandon the other-worldly Jesus she'd known. Christy is an example of tens of thousands of Christians who have learned to disassociate a thin Jesus from their own wellbeing, along with the wellbeing of society. Even now that she is suicidal and struggling with clinical depression, Christy won't turn to Jesus because she believes he doesn't care.</i></blockquote><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> He then goes on to ask:</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><blockquote style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Is that what we deduce from Scripture simply because Jesus 'never mentions" nutrition, ecology, globalization or pluralism? Jesus doesn't mention cars, light bulbs, toilets, burritos or televisions, but Western Christians seem to have no problem using these and incorporating them into their lifestyles. Wise believers learn to think Christianly and apply Jesus' teachings to all areas of their lives. </i></blockquote><blockquote><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">*(both of these quotes are taken from the final chapter in the book, and as I am not exactly sure how to reference the appropriate page numbers in the Kindle electronic version of the book, all I can tell you is that these quotes are found at positions 2846 & 2856 respectively)</span></div></blockquote><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As a member of the Adventist faith community, (one that, like many others, too often expends way too much energy debating the bark on the trees to the detriment of the forest), <i>Wholly Jesus</i> is both deeply encouraging and affirming in that it reminds us that we are not alone in the richness of the contributions we have to share . . . AND . . . perhaps also serves as a wake-up call which should remind us that we do not own this message, and if we neglect to fully embrace it, there are others who have and who will. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">What a great opportunity for many to discover new friends in unexpected places!</div>Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-43921195235365726412010-11-29T01:16:00.000-08:002010-11-29T22:06:28.259-08:00Being Pursued<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7lXq_YfxIcn3V6maMAduoJqmXw0-bmv6rGf-cgMdeBEVSWlDw3i7O8WVpLj5bP4q5RU3o6GZJeT9XKLJc1yhdfvQdIvz4TJE2MLpUSFx2IcAeYBT_1fdmunw-OBiFvkgVCL2jJJrG3Cl/s1600/encinitas-beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7lXq_YfxIcn3V6maMAduoJqmXw0-bmv6rGf-cgMdeBEVSWlDw3i7O8WVpLj5bP4q5RU3o6GZJeT9XKLJc1yhdfvQdIvz4TJE2MLpUSFx2IcAeYBT_1fdmunw-OBiFvkgVCL2jJJrG3Cl/s200/encinitas-beach.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Pursued </b></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For a couple of years now, Lael and I have found a nice place in a little coastal town where we have been able to get away for a couple of days to celebrate our anniversary. The town is small, the pace is slower than we are accustomed to, and the beach is within easy walking distance from where we are staying, providing wonderful opportunities for walking along the water's edge, or just sitting and listening to the waves or watching the sunlight on the water. With no appointments to meet or calls to return, there is lots of time to relax, walk through town, take a nap, read a book, and enjoy un-rushed and unhurried thoughts. To pause and be at peace.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">On one of these mornings as we sat on the beach watching wet suited surfers trying to catch a ride on uncooperative waves, I noticed a man walking down the beach whose presence exuded anything but peacefulness. He carried a small napsack slung over a well worn jacket, baggy shorts, over-sized tennis shoes and one black sock. He seemed agitated as he walked. I had the impression that he was looking for something or someone - but whatever it was, he clearly was not at ease. Now and then he would pause and stare out over the water, and then at what appeared to be a small pad of paper in his hands on which he seemed to be writing something, and then reading what he had written. He would then walk back down the beach in the other direction for awhile, pausing again, looking, waiting, and seemingly unsatisfied, retrace his steps once more. While there was something about him that both intrigued me and drew my attention, I would also have to admit that there was also something unsettling enough about him that I really didn't mind that there was a fair amount of distance that separated us. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">After he had continued on like this for quite some time, he finally paused, walked closer to the waters edge, and looking out over the ocean, methodically began tearing pages from the pad he held in his hand and throwing them into the air, one at a time, until they clustered all around him on the shore. Then with what appeared to be a sense of exasperation, he turned his back to the water and walked over to a set of stairs that made their way up the face of a small cliff to the streets of the town above. When he was about a third of the way up the stairs, he paused, and stood there on a small landing that overlooked the beach for few moments. Then, surveying the coast line one last time, with a look of finality, he wadded up his last remaining piece of paper, tossed it over the railing down to the sand below, and turned away for the last time, making his way to the top of the stairs and disappearing into the quiet streets of the town.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Since it was now early afternoon, we collected the few things we had,and set off in search of lunch. As we walked by the base of the stairs, I noticed the small wadded piece of paper that he had tossed over the railing in his final gesture before leaving the beach. Curious, I picked it up and unwadded it, only to find scrawled there across the wrinkled paper, three times, in a manner that seemed to express the anxiety and agitation that he had been exuding all morning, the words "World War III."</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
While I certainly did not understand all of the import that those words carried for him, as I looked over at the papers he had tossed along the waters edge which had now been scattered by both birds and breeze, I couldn't help but wonder about all that must have been churning in his mind. What were the worries or fears that pursued him, and which had shaped his experience that morning, and which continued to haunt him as his steps led him back into the sleepy little beach-side town? While I had been enjoying the sense of peace and renewal that seemed to have caught up with me that morning at the beach, it seemed apparent that it was a very different sense of things that shaped his morning.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
Just a few days before in church, we had spent some time reflecting on the last verse of the 23rd Psalm, "Surely goodness and mercy will pursue me all the days of my life," and what it means to be pursued in this way. But for this man on this morning, whatever it was that was on his mind as he looked over his shoulder that morning, somehow I don't think he had the sense that what pursued him was either of those. And as I continued to look at the wadded piece of paper in my hand, pondering what I had seen of the experience of the person who had written upon it, although we had both been in the same geographical location that morning, in many ways we were in very different places. While I had been enjoying what it meant for what was pursing me to catch up, it seems that he was preoccupied with trying to keep ahead of whatever it was that he sensed was pursuing him. When fear and anxiety is what gives the spring to your step, the last thing in the world you want is to be caught. But when you realize that it is goodness and mercy that is on our heels, getting caught just might be the best thing that could happen to us.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">While I really don't know much of anything about the nature of the worry or anxiety that seemed so central to the experience of the man I observed on the beach that morning, or exactly what it was that seemed to pursue and trouble him so much, <b>I did find myself grateful for the realization of what (or <i> perhaps Who) it is</i> that continues to pursue me </b>(and Who is in pursuit of him as well, even though he may not know it)<b>.</b> I found myself wondering about how much energy I spend trying to get away from the worries or anxieties that at times seem to pursue me, when perhaps what I most need to do, is allow the One Who never tires of pursuing me with goodness and mercy to catch me!</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Perhaps, the experience of being pursued is one that is more common to human experience than we sometimes realize. How we understand and respond to being pursued . . . and perhaps most importantly, to the One Who pursues us, makes all the difference in the world!</span></div>Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-72887482686142182992010-10-11T10:35:00.000-07:002010-12-13T21:52:46.185-08:00Really?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2VJ4_XYhmQIynpfu-dfZRlHahGfB0ui5o5HN73ngbsYa8-oxNrPCqm_n14WVM3q-O0XOGY2WAeMIZQryTYpnSgH_DWZTuRTmK0lSkojbVpOEU8mVJPXHc2LqRUCIkqfnJA6agHr9k8kg/s1600/Tea+Party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2VJ4_XYhmQIynpfu-dfZRlHahGfB0ui5o5HN73ngbsYa8-oxNrPCqm_n14WVM3q-O0XOGY2WAeMIZQryTYpnSgH_DWZTuRTmK0lSkojbVpOEU8mVJPXHc2LqRUCIkqfnJA6agHr9k8kg/s200/Tea+Party.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Really? </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">It's been a long time since my last post. Not that there have not been things that have almost made it here from time to time, (many of which have accumulated as "drafts" but never quite got finished). Some of that was due to a hectic summer schedule where the normal rhythm of things was, often pleasantly, interrupted by various vacations, trips and events. But while those things contributed, they are probably not the most significant reason. I think much of the reason had to do with something, for lack of a better term, I might describe as "absurdity fatigue," and the resulting desire to simply disengage for awhile. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">While I am not a great fan of Alice in Wonderland, there have been times when I feel like I am living in the midst of the story line. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">However reasonable people might dialogue about the various ways our country might be run, or what political perspective is the best, what we have experienced in the last couple of years has been largely characterized by people standing in opposition to things for the sake of opposition (and hoped for political advantage), and a willingness to exploit anxiety, fear, and in some cases much more malignant sentiments, in order to . . . well . . . there doesn't seem to be much consensus on what the real point is . . . only that it is somehow good to be mad and want to make a change. In rallies and gatherings, charisma, to use the term loosely, triumphs over informed substance, and people who in any other setting would be seen as "not all there," mean spirited, or in some cases simply dishonest, command airwaves and influence public opinion, seemingly, in direct proportion to their absurdity. There is a lot that can be learned from healthy public dialogue, but, seriously, is this the best we can do? Does no one feel embarrassed or maybe even <i>a little</i> ashamed? <i><b>Really?</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">In church communities, I watch people who claim to be standing up for truth, deriding, and in some cases slandering, those who honestly desire to reconcile both scriptural and scientific data in a way that has integrity for both disciplines. It's not that the conversation is a problem. In fact it is a very needed and fruitful one when both sides are willing to listen honestly and non-defensively to each other. But, instead, what could be an opportunity for mutual learning and growth, becomes an arena for the rise of the orthodoxy police, and in at least a professional sense (though it often gets quite personal as well) - a renewed hunger for the experience of burning witches. </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">This is only exacerbated by people in positions of influence making sweeping statements about things that a more careful or thorough understanding of which, would prevent. There is a lot that can be learned from healthy public dialogue, but, seriously, is this the best we can do? Does no one feel embarrassed or maybe even <i>a little</i> ashamed? <i><b>Really?</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">What is further exasperating, is that in both of the examples (and there are probably many others), attempts at dialogue are often unsuccessful -- and instead become exercises in trying to talk to someone who is so intent on defending their ground that they are unwilling to consider, even for the sake of dialogue, any idea or data that differs from what have already (and often somewhat arbitrarily) decided is "right." And once you have determined that you are right, and even more that those who suggest anything different than what you have decided is the "enemy," then of course dialogue is unnecessary. We all know what you do with enemies. Under the banner of accountability, we fight them. If possible, we destroy them. And of course in war, the rules that might constrain behavior in less extreme situations can be suspended. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">That is of course, until you listen to Jesus, who makes this outlandish suggestion that the best way to treat your "enemies" is to love and pray for them (which, ironically, often has the effect of re-framing the way you look at them, causing them to seem less like enemies that somehow should be given less consideration than yourself). It does not, necessarily, mean you surrender to their agendas, but rather that the nature of the interaction changes dramatically. And the good news is, that you don't have to wait for the "other side" to figure this out before you start practicing it.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFt_0l7AZG0IUhkXtWhSedZRIizsLXRMNZHvMP-yIxy8258_wTkP_PT7wsUaNHiA9usscYgef_z6LmrJXUt-tbPI4TeB3Kfrpwdz2e7V0ftEjaxG__nMzXDFqQoYCEETwHW9XQMYp_EJ45/s1600/new+life+in+forest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCjh1kXCf8gpkniJn-opH166_zCLplozIvI5qXxVEFEGRYzPGjS15ghF9RPVFHAAkamszVSlqc9PVno36MiAjFvmczj6T2ZSRsMkP6B1ru5z29I7uKIrlDIWtvFsM4IGtOv-50guIND48/s1600/mountain+view.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCjh1kXCf8gpkniJn-opH166_zCLplozIvI5qXxVEFEGRYzPGjS15ghF9RPVFHAAkamszVSlqc9PVno36MiAjFvmczj6T2ZSRsMkP6B1ru5z29I7uKIrlDIWtvFsM4IGtOv-50guIND48/s200/mountain+view.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">And so it was that, recently, in the midst of a long prayerful walk on an exceptionally beautiful day (one set aside strictly for the purpose of listening more than talking), sitting on a rock overlooking a mountain side dotted with trees showing signs of new life, and clouds that wove themselves in breath-takingly beautiful patterns above them, that I was reminded that the absurdity which so often surrounds us is not what we are created for, and does not have to be what defines us. That however intense, intent, and frankly embarrassing things become in the communities in which we live, what God has called us to, and to share, is deeply meaningful, rich, and a continual reminder that (to borrow a phrase from Rob Bell) <i>you don't have to live like this</i>. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFt_0l7AZG0IUhkXtWhSedZRIizsLXRMNZHvMP-yIxy8258_wTkP_PT7wsUaNHiA9usscYgef_z6LmrJXUt-tbPI4TeB3Kfrpwdz2e7V0ftEjaxG__nMzXDFqQoYCEETwHW9XQMYp_EJ45/s1600/new+life+in+forest.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFt_0l7AZG0IUhkXtWhSedZRIizsLXRMNZHvMP-yIxy8258_wTkP_PT7wsUaNHiA9usscYgef_z6LmrJXUt-tbPI4TeB3Kfrpwdz2e7V0ftEjaxG__nMzXDFqQoYCEETwHW9XQMYp_EJ45/s1600/new+life+in+forest.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFt_0l7AZG0IUhkXtWhSedZRIizsLXRMNZHvMP-yIxy8258_wTkP_PT7wsUaNHiA9usscYgef_z6LmrJXUt-tbPI4TeB3Kfrpwdz2e7V0ftEjaxG__nMzXDFqQoYCEETwHW9XQMYp_EJ45/s200/new+life+in+forest.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Following Jesus is much more about the way that we live, the kind of people we become, and </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFt_0l7AZG0IUhkXtWhSedZRIizsLXRMNZHvMP-yIxy8258_wTkP_PT7wsUaNHiA9usscYgef_z6LmrJXUt-tbPI4TeB3Kfrpwdz2e7V0ftEjaxG__nMzXDFqQoYCEETwHW9XQMYp_EJ45/s1600/new+life+in+forest.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">how that leads us to live our lives in the world, than getting every detail of how we might explain things into conformity. If my life, the way I interact with those around me, does not reflect genuineness, authenticity, grace and God's way of looking at people, then no one, perhaps even God, is going to care much about how "right" I was or wasn't about the details. In the great parable of the judgment in Matthew 25, the issues clearly lie elsewhere than that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Too much time in the land that feels like it belongs on the other side of the looking glass can leave one feeling like it is best to give up on talking altogether. Over the course of the past several months, I began to realize, perhaps largely out of some sort of internal fatigue, that I was simply beginning to disengage and withdraw. What I was reminded of on my walk, is that perhaps a better response is simply stop letting the other side of the looking glass set the agenda and define the conversation - and begin to live "in the truth" - to begin to <i><b>really live</b></i> once again. Not only might that lead to interesting (and perhaps less reactive) conversation at "tea parties," but perhaps to lives that are even more compelling than whatever we might say?</span>Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-85001151600869477662010-04-26T17:12:00.000-07:002010-04-27T16:19:15.490-07:00Listening In-between<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUCv72xw4fmphCNJw1VjD_dXyerXX_A8KzaXQb7EF1i-ibh9SJ50Y7CsIMc6qyAhkAPfciwQL9WQdCWCvOAy8JYhHMZ62R9EkGgaMnRBSEqm4Bh09cvCKyD7tDsplgGGG11dL2oVJv-12p/s1600/traight-Road--Route-66--Arizona_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUCv72xw4fmphCNJw1VjD_dXyerXX_A8KzaXQb7EF1i-ibh9SJ50Y7CsIMc6qyAhkAPfciwQL9WQdCWCvOAy8JYhHMZ62R9EkGgaMnRBSEqm4Bh09cvCKyD7tDsplgGGG11dL2oVJv-12p/s200/traight-Road--Route-66--Arizona_web.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Listening In-between</span></b></div><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i>(some reflections from a quiet afternoon) </i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Life is complicated. Anyone who tells you otherwise is not giving you the whole story.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">On the one hand, there are moments when, like Peter, James and John on the Mount of Transfiguration with Jesus, we become fully awake and glimpse of bit of the reality that there is a larger story going on than simply our own seemingly individual one. In the 9th chapter of his gospel, Luke tells us that Jesus had invited these three disciples to go with Him up onto a mountain to spend some time in prayer (Luke 9:28 <i>ff</i>). The disciples are initially described as somewhat sleepy, that state in which we are present and perhaps even active, but not fully aware or engaged. But whatever their state of mind may have been, Luke says that as they prayed, things changed. In a moment of insight and clarity, they literally saw things in a light they never had before. It was an experience they did not want to let go of, as is evidenced by Peter's suggestion that they somehow find a way to capture and prolong what they were experiencing.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">While we probably don't know all that took place there, at least part of what they saw was Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah about what was He was about to go through in Jerusalem, and perhaps how this would bring into focus and fulfill all that Moses and Elijah (the law and the prophets) had been about. In the glory of that moment the great stories that Moses and Elijah represented were seen in conversation with, and intertwined with, each other as a part of the one huge amazing story that was about to reach a climax. Even if the disciples did not understand all of the details, this must have been one of those moments when you sense you have at least glimpsed enough to sense that all the important pieces in life have fallen into place. No wonder that Peter wanted to preserve and cling to that moment as long as possible! Everything was now as it should be.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The glory of the experience, however, does not cooperate with Peter's desire. While he is still speaking, they are enveloped in a cloud, and as the vision fades God's voice speaks, "<b><i>This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to Him.</i></b>" As the heightened experience fades, they find that they are simply left with Jesus. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The story however, does not end here. The next day, as they return from their time on the mountain they are met by a large crowd, concerned and frustrated because, in contrast to the one on the mountain, the story they had been glimpsing for the past day or so was not one of glory in which all the pieces had fallen into place. A very different story was playing out in the valley. This was not one of pieces coming together in wholeness, but one of a boy and his family being torn apart by destructive forces - in the midst of which, the disciples had been unable to bring relief. Everything was not as it should be, and even those who most wanted to help seemed powerless in the face of it.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">While it is not clear to me exactly who or what Jesus is addressing when He expresses His exasperation over the persistence of the destructiveness that was at work in the boy's life ("<i>O unbelieving and perverse generation . . . how long shall I stay with you and put up with you?</i>" vs.41), what is perhaps the most significant is the last phrase ("<i>bring your son here</i>"). </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The boy is brought to Jesus, the evil is rebuked in His presence, and the boy is given back to his father. While the story is clear about what God's ultimate desire is for the boy (as is evidenced by Jesus' healing him), it also leaves us with the troubling realization that those who follow Jesus are not always as successful as they and others hope they will be. Even though you could argue that some form of healing can always take place, not all aspects of what is broken always gets fixed the way we wish it would.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When we look at these too scenes together, what surfaces for me is the realization that, for myself, and most people I know, life is lived mostly on the road between the mountain and the valley.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">On the one hand, there are moments, often in the context of those times when we have intentionally withdrawn for a while for worship, reflection and prayer, in which things come into focus for us with rich and rewarding ways. Whether or not God shows up in the glorious and unexpected ways as He did on the mount of transfiguration, these are times when we are intentional about paying attention to God's reminder that we simply need to focus on listening to Jesus. These are not times in which we try to manufacture "mountain top experiences," but ones in which we focus on where the real glory is found - in simply being with, and being attentive to, Jesus. These are the moments when we allow our stories to be in conversation with the larger Story of which they are a part - and to ensure that the conversation continues when we are not on the mountain. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But still, there is the other end of he road . . . those places where the stories we encounter or find ourselves caught up in are not so renewing. Stories where other more destructive forces are also at work. And even though we should and do oppose them in the name of Jesus, as was the case with the disciples, we don't always get the results that we desire. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">What we see as we read these two scenes together, is the reality of what life looks like in a world where the Kingdom that Jesus spoke of has both already arrived, and yet has not yet been fully realized. We live in that space in between - what theologians refer to as "the already and the not yet" - a place where things can be both glorious and exasperating. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Yet, despite the way that destructive forces and impulses continue to cling, we are invited to continue to live out the Story told on the mountain, knowing that it is our story, and everyone else's story as well. What matters the most is not the light show on the mountain when all is crystal clear, or the low moments in the valley when we feel so ineffective and powerless (and all we can do is simply point people to Jesus whatever the outcome might be), <b><i>but our willingness to listen carefully and responsively</i></b> not so much to the voice from the crowd, but <b><i>to the voice from the cloud</i></b>. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>"This is my Son, Whom I have chosen; listen to Him."</b></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Being faithful to the Story matters.</span>Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-5324997585024382632010-02-01T18:57:00.000-08:002010-02-01T18:57:39.948-08:00Two Groups<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIWjGaNobiRbs1_DoOnK8EEGj77yBvuYcGHVc1uFpgnpJFcBJtyQ4GPMlU30_kt9C-eNNyGyFnA4L8UDTxHJ9nyJqxq_a-QXodZ35jw0IEz4im_rbWXbo_TazdvRwNn4DtgBETw-C0Flg/s1600-h/Jesus-Healing-The-Paralytic-At-The-Pool-Of-Bethesda,-C.1759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIWjGaNobiRbs1_DoOnK8EEGj77yBvuYcGHVc1uFpgnpJFcBJtyQ4GPMlU30_kt9C-eNNyGyFnA4L8UDTxHJ9nyJqxq_a-QXodZ35jw0IEz4im_rbWXbo_TazdvRwNn4DtgBETw-C0Flg/s320/Jesus-Healing-The-Paralytic-At-The-Pool-Of-Bethesda,-C.1759.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Two Groups</b></span></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">During a recent retreat, I had the opportunity to spend some time with a few colleagues reflecting on the first fifteen verses of John 5 -- the story of Jesus healing a man by a pool at Bethesda. </div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As I thought about the story, it occurred to me that the setting would in many ways have been beautiful - Greco-Roman architecture with five covered colonnades surrounding a pool that had once been a site for the worship of the Greek god of medicine. The story also tells us that large numbers of disabled people gathered there awaiting the stirring of the water. The belief was that the first one into the pool when the water was stirred would be healed.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Admittedly, there is much about the group that gathered there that we do not know. Some may have been on their own and barely surviving. Others may have had others to help them, perhaps supplying food or assisting them in coming and going to the gathering place around the pool. Some may have had to learn to be fiercely independent to survive. Others may have become accustomed to having others wait upon them and assist them as they waited. One might also wonder, especially among those most desperate for healing, whether or not some would have resorted to aggression or even become ruthless in their pursuit of healing, while others resigned themselves to a place on the sidelines, in the realization of how unlikely it would be that they would ever be able to get into the water in time. This was a race that had only one winner.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It is in the midst of the group of people that we find Jesus, approaching a man who had been suffering with his condition for thirty eight years (what for many in that day was a lifetime) with a startling question, "Do you want to get well?"</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">You would think that the answer to the question would be obvious, but what was intriguing to me as I reflected on this story, is the extent to which I found myself resonating with the man's response. When the question is raised, instead of contemplating the possibilities of what healing might actually mean for him, he gravitates toward explanations of why it was not likely to happen to him --much of which focused on the reality that he was not in the midst of a community of people who were likely to put his interests ahead of their own. In fact, what he was in the midst of, was not so much a community of people who saw themselves as supporting and being there for each other, as a group that was bound together primarily by the realization that they all wanted the same thing - the group itself was somewhat optional, the goal was individual and personal. </div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The picture that began to emerge for me was that of a group of people gathered together, perhaps even working together to some extent, but motivated largely by self- interest. Now while that may be an over-characterization (in the sense that there may well have been many in and around the group that were much more altruistically motivated than the basic configuration of the situation would imply), unless human nature has changed drastically in the last 2,000 years, it is probably not an overly unfair one. </div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I found myself thinking about groups like this . . . of people gathered together, often in beautiful settings . . . bound loosely together by a sense of their need, and perhaps even in competition with each other as they seek healing, primarily, for themselves . . . and how in the midst of this situation, healing was not as frequent an occurrence as we would like. In such situations, it is not difficult to understand why one's first thoughts when confronted with the prospect of getting well, might turn first to the many reasons whey this is unlikely to happen.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTO7d7e8wILKjvVBbiW04vVS2M9P9IDqcJ3HvQJBUF8vLrQwil7NHmiX7F_uZ4dWoxyxCHsFyyTBSbpftB-AxDfeS5GIgf_Y7bciFs9FWPReCFCEqjbF-Ma0aTo3UG3oq9PZ7SU6ZBEOQ7/s1600-h/Jesus_Composit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTO7d7e8wILKjvVBbiW04vVS2M9P9IDqcJ3HvQJBUF8vLrQwil7NHmiX7F_uZ4dWoxyxCHsFyyTBSbpftB-AxDfeS5GIgf_Y7bciFs9FWPReCFCEqjbF-Ma0aTo3UG3oq9PZ7SU6ZBEOQ7/s320/Jesus_Composit.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It was not long after this that I found myself in a different passage of scripture -- one that presented an image of people together in community in which the contrast was so sharp as to be almost jarring. In 1 Corinthians 12, Paul describes the community of believers that Jesus creates through the presence of the Spirit with the metaphor of the body.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><blockquote style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ . . .</i><br />
<i>If the foot should say, "Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body," it would not for that reason cease to be part of th body . . . The eye cannot say to the hand, "I don't need you!" And the head cannot say to the feet, "I don't need you!" On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor . . . God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it . . .</i></blockquote><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikqRKdAm8G81G4J8NhXjVzH8jLhdejvlVcnBSjWjFcD0j7UboqgJB6KW3ToRm9qWNvexIIe1IwG2FSoJUELiRpdDAUZ6ZYAFuaAkIJIaJ6Gf-KSqchQbw6g1apqnh9okgrVEuirPIfZBUP/s1600-h/Jesus_composit2JPG.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikqRKdAm8G81G4J8NhXjVzH8jLhdejvlVcnBSjWjFcD0j7UboqgJB6KW3ToRm9qWNvexIIe1IwG2FSoJUELiRpdDAUZ6ZYAFuaAkIJIaJ6Gf-KSqchQbw6g1apqnh9okgrVEuirPIfZBUP/s320/Jesus_composit2JPG.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Here is a picture of a group of people who are not gathered together in common self-interest, each looking out for themselves together, but a group of people gathered in common interest with a common purpose, each looking out for the interests of the other. Here the concern is not how do I get in ahead of someone else, or even the futility of trying because only the very few can win anyway, but the sense that we are all moving together as Jesus' body, seeking to live out His interests in the world. It is in the midst of a community like this that healing is not so much sought, as healing happens as we respond to Christ Who is the head. </div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Struck with the starkness of the contrast, I found myself contemplating the question, "So which community do I want to be a part of?" "Which community do I actually live in and belong to?" But what I finally realized, is that I was framing the question inappropriately. The reality is that I, perhaps I might even be so bold as to say we, belong to both in them. As C.S. Lewis puts it in one of his volumes in the Chronicles of Narnia series (and I am paraphrasing here) we are sons and daughters of Adam and Eve, and that is glory enough to lift the head of the lowliest servant, and shame enough to bow the head of the greatest monarch.</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div>The good news, is that Jesus is very much in the midst of both communities. He walks among us asking if would like to get well, and works within us to help us become the fully functioning parts of His body - a body that longs to walk without a limp through our world.Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-47052766481765436282010-01-20T10:50:00.000-08:002010-01-21T21:22:44.306-08:00Irony<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWu1AXBxNZVBzWDgS-wmkE2UN9YXUnSPhBD_2jEnqsDA-avS481m3y2f1Xi8hgxs1Gg18p_BPEJT6DHLFHQFoU2gf3J2dY53Xq5rxcDHVN4grG0Nzsz_t5fu5_Esufj8ULA1PgmqvGh_iy/s1600-h/HiRes.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428917531530243650" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWu1AXBxNZVBzWDgS-wmkE2UN9YXUnSPhBD_2jEnqsDA-avS481m3y2f1Xi8hgxs1Gg18p_BPEJT6DHLFHQFoU2gf3J2dY53Xq5rxcDHVN4grG0Nzsz_t5fu5_Esufj8ULA1PgmqvGh_iy/s320/HiRes.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 211px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 253px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 180%; font-weight: bold;">Irony</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: georgia;">I recently found myself thinking once again about a quote from Calvin Miller's Book, </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;">The Singer</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">, in which he writes,<br />
<br />
</span><br />
<blockquote style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">"Humanity is fickle. They may dress for a morning coronation and never feel the need to change clothes to attend an execution in the afternoon. So Triumphal Sundays and Good Fridays always fit comfortably into the same April week." <br />
</blockquote><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia;">This week I have been reflecting on how "comfortably" dissonant events seem to find resting places along side of each other. We took a day off of work to celebrate and remember how the voices of people who once spoke at self-sacrificial cost in a way that opened doors to those who had found them tightly shut before. On the heels of that celebration, voices of people spoke once again, but this time motivated more by frustrated self-interest and concern -- not so much over what others needed and did not have, but over what they feared they themselves might lose.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: georgia;">Just a few days before, in response to the devastation brought about by the earthquake in Haiti, huge numbers of people, for the most part with little rhetoric about how people bring trouble upon themselves, found they had resources to share that might bring much needed health care and disaster relief to those who had no resources, and who struggled to survive amid a mounting death toll. Yea for this! In other news, there seemed to be great reluctance of the part of many to consider any on-going additional costs that would likely result in many other unnecessary losses being prevented all-together. Here I am less likely to find it within myself to cheer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">Life is complicated. There are many sides to many issues. Yet, I find myself wondering during weeks like this about where that place is at which odd ironies transition from something less hippocratic into something more hypocritic. Having grown up in the midst of, and in trying to minister to, a generation of people who struggle with tendencies to want to turn away from the dissonance with a sense of futility, this week as served as somewhat of a model as to why this kind of ambivalence persists. What is more curious, and frankly a bit perplexing, is the way in which many seem to have accommodated to the tension, almost as if the sound of fingernails on the chalkboard has somehow become the background music for a way of life - while richer tones and melodies slip out of range. I don't want to develop a taste for that genre of music. Some things may, in the end, actually turn out to have been far less complicated that we imagined.</span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">There is, however a Tune that continues to play in the midst of the others, and with which they often compete -- one which still can be heard when we pause and listen for it. The sense of some of the lyrics are captured, at least in part, by these words from Mother Theresa (reported to have been cared into the wall of her home for children in Calcutta):</span><br />
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<blockquote style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered.<br />
Forgive them anyway<br />
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives,<br />
Be kind anyway<br />
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies.<br />
Succeed anyway<br />
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you,<br />
Be honest and frank anyway<br />
What you spend years building someone could destroy overnight<br />
Build anyway<br />
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous<br />
Be happy anyway<br />
The good you do today, people may forget tomorrow<br />
Do good anyway.<br />
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough<br />
Give the world the best you have anyway.<br />
</blockquote><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />
During those weeks when the irony is most pronounced, these have been among the more helpful lyrics that allow the light to shine on the way forward.</span>Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-65688226571029311922009-10-20T07:06:00.000-07:002010-01-21T21:23:21.987-08:00Legacy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgNPVTWMXw2jhJmltVg60lQQXWFekE7BayWuQEHk1m6PojNCC34BAXnXyK8QGz4fqxQFOmqXlHX619aIzwfhV4ADxItuQptCXHoQvCVR3DrC4ZczdUzVml9aEcuY2CSj4zO-z1QXNZrOr/s1600-h/cell+phone+015.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394683874337900194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgNPVTWMXw2jhJmltVg60lQQXWFekE7BayWuQEHk1m6PojNCC34BAXnXyK8QGz4fqxQFOmqXlHX619aIzwfhV4ADxItuQptCXHoQvCVR3DrC4ZczdUzVml9aEcuY2CSj4zO-z1QXNZrOr/s320/cell+phone+015.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 177px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 236px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 180%; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Legacy</span></span><br />
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On the top of a hill overlooking the city of Encinitas is a quiet little park. From there you can see the ocean, feel the breeze, and find a place to sit and reflect as you take in the view. There is a bench there that has been provided in loving memory of Kathleen Preston. I don't know her story, or the stories of the lives her life touched in the 52 years that she lived. Clearly she had made an impact in the life of the person who had dedicated this bench in her honor, for whom she had been "light and love beyond eternity." This was more than simply a park accessory, this was (perhaps just one part of) a memorial to someone who had lived and loved and changed the lives of those around her. But this was not just a memorial to the life she had lived and shared, it was also a means by which she could continue to bless others - as is reflected in the inscription on the plaque <span style="font-style: italic;">"bless those who rest here."</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvN9KOTq-xuYFu2ZBFdkemP25VargpPkexSoZG_Y-m7ArPeQbcILtMo0CqAd2CbdTHlG0ZYhUUEnLR7TSDaCUDdBszgIEKMtuykz0-OMuch2rkxifQrYTSn6l29xCxDi0trbF5esA820M/s1600-h/cell+phone+017.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394684363280752178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvN9KOTq-xuYFu2ZBFdkemP25VargpPkexSoZG_Y-m7ArPeQbcILtMo0CqAd2CbdTHlG0ZYhUUEnLR7TSDaCUDdBszgIEKMtuykz0-OMuch2rkxifQrYTSn6l29xCxDi0trbF5esA820M/s320/cell+phone+017.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 191px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 254px;" /></a>Though I did not know her, as I sat on her bench doing some reflections of my own, I thought about the significance of her life, the impact she had had, and the continuing blessing her legacy provided through those who had known her by offering a place to find rest and blessing as they continued to honor and celebrate who she was. I was blessed by her, and by resting there.<br />
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Just the day before my wife and I sat in the living room of an old friend, also 52 years old, who in his own way was contemplating the issue of legacy. This was still fresh in my mind as I sat on Kathleen's bench. While we had not kept in touch as much as we would have liked over the years, we were being more intentional now. A couple of months ago he had been diagnosed with a serious health issue, which, according to those most familiar with this particular disease process, makes it unlikely that he will live for much more than a year. We hope and pray that he will be one of those who beats the statistics and continues to have a long and full life in spite of what he is struggling with now. There is hope. But there are also the questions that come with the contemplation of how you navigate the time you have left, particularly when it appears that your time here may be shorter than you had anticipated. His has been a life well lived, and has touched and impacted the lives of others in powerful and meaningful ways (mine included), and he feels good in his relationship with God through all of this. And yet, how do you begin the capture the impact, and celebrate the legacy of 52 years of life, and then live well however much time we have left? Those were some of the questions with which I sat on Kathleen's bench thinking about my friend.<br />
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The reason I was in the park and sitting on the bench in the first place, was that the pastoral staff had taken a couple of days to be together to rest, reflect on our ministry, and be open to where God might be wanting to take us in the weeks and months ahead. The passage of scripture that we were reflecting on during our time alone that afternoon was Matthew 11:27-30 (Message).<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Jesus resumed talking to the people, but now tenderly</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">"The Father has given me all these things to do and say</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">This is a unique Father-Son operation,</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">coming out of Father and Son intimacies and knowledge.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">No one knows the Son the way the Father does,</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">nor the Father the way the Son does.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">But I'm not keeping it to myself;</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">I'm ready to go over it line by line</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">with anyone willing to listen.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion?</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">I'll show you how to take a real rest.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Walk with me and work with me -- watch how I do it.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Keep company with me and you'll learn to live</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">freely and lightly."</span><br />
</div><br />
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At the very heart of Who Jesus was, and what He came to reveal and share -- the legacy He leaves -- is the invitation to pause long enough to come away, find rest, to recover our lives. . . To sit on benches like Katherine's and be blessed. . . To sit in the living rooms of people we care about, enjoying the lives we have to share with each other, however long any of us have to do that. . . And perhaps, for this 52 year old pastor, to be more attentive and intentional about learning the unforced rhythms of grace, learning to live more freely, lightly and fully, as I watch how He does it, and try to follow that lead. . . And that whatever legacy there might be when everything is said and done, that it might be one that reflects that kind of life.<br />
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There is a lot more to think about, sitting on this bench. What a blessing that it is here!Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-25239595219604619932009-09-27T19:13:00.000-07:002010-01-21T21:24:25.618-08:00Holy Inefficiency<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Hnk2icUolgH4BJGK2GyV7bVu9XLiUT1ULiWXn064iUktkERmoHUTE73s11HXQyT1USujh18hbBFRIjMkolVwacKJ-Y21Ud4SK9BnbxAFN2O3Gtdup35REFmlpvVIT9GzD9E43S55kiOE/s1600-h/leisure.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386402564484046866" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Hnk2icUolgH4BJGK2GyV7bVu9XLiUT1ULiWXn064iUktkERmoHUTE73s11HXQyT1USujh18hbBFRIjMkolVwacKJ-Y21Ud4SK9BnbxAFN2O3Gtdup35REFmlpvVIT9GzD9E43S55kiOE/s320/leisure.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 213px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 279px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Holy Inefficiency</span></span><br />
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Not an exclamation, just a concept. And perhaps an opportunity to muse for just a moment.<br />
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It's been almost a year and a half since I started this blog. In a way, it was in partial response to the perception of inefficiency. While the conversation out of which this grew was a bit "tongue in cheek" at the time, as is often the case, there was also an element of truth in it. Here is a quote from the original post:<br />
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<blockquote><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">This blog arises out of conversation with my colleagues. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say, as a way to reduce conversation with my colleagues. Maybe , on a more thoughtful level, as a reflection of the nature of what conversation in our culture has often become.<br />
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<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">In response to some thoughts I was sharing, that the rest of them clearly did not think was contributing to an efficient use of our time, someone suggested that maybe what I needed to do was start a blog. It became clear that this was not merely a rhetorical statement, when one of them carried through on their offer to set it up for me, e-mailing the links and access information just a few days later, having thoughtfully selected the title "ken's diatribe" as the name of the blog. I got the hint.</span> (The original blog was posted April 21, 2008)<br />
</blockquote><br />
I wonder how often and to what extent we offer sacrifices at the altar of efficiency? The machinery of the kingdom of God industry getting its necessary maintenance, and the less pressing issues of what all of this means, and probing of where God is at work in the process, or just sitting quietly in God's presence long enough to get a clue about about it . . . or just being part of the sometimes cumbersome journey of sorting that out . . . too often is left to other times, and<span style="font-style: italic;"> "as time allows."</span> <br />
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Fortunately, despite the appearance of this blog, there actually have been many times where my colleagues and I have spent significant time exploring the meaning of a text, or talking about the implications of what is happening in the lives of people we touch, and what that means for how we minister to them. But still, too often, we still seem to be haunted by the unspoken, probably unconscious assumption that this is more luxury than necessity. These are things we can get back to as time allows, but right now we need to . . .<br />
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Shane Hipps, in his book, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Flickering Pixels: How Technology Shapes Your Faith</span>, in some rather profound and provocative ways, discusses (among other things - all of which are well worth commenting on and exploring) how <span style="font-style: italic;">efficiency</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">intimacy</span> are concepts that have a challenging time existing along side of each other. This brought to mind an insight shared by a former chaplain of the Senate with a friend of mine, as he summed up the essence of his job as:<br />
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<blockquote><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> "Being with people with no other agenda except to respond to the needs the Holy Spirit makes known."</span><br />
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That is worth pausing and contemplating awhile. As I did that, what came to mind was this quote from Richard Foster's <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Celebration of Discipline,"</span><br />
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<blockquote><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Church Fathers spoke of otium sanctum, "Holy Leisure." It refers to a sense of balance in the life, an ability to be at peace through the activities of the day, an ability to rest and take time to enjoy beauty, an ability to pace ourselves. With our tendency to define people in terms of what they produce, we would do well to cultivate "holy leisure.". . with a determination that is ruthless to our date books. </span> (pg 27).<br />
</blockquote><br />
As I look back over the last year and a half or so that, so far, as constituted the life of this blog, I'm not sure it has turned out to contribute to the practice of the art of <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">holy leisure</span> as much as I wish it might have (few technological innovations do). Perhaps I have not lived nearly as ruthlessly with my date book as I might have. But it has at least provided an opportunity to collect a few scattered thoughts from time to time, write them down, and thus at least preserve them from drifting away into that place where so many things go that I wish I had not completely lost track of.<br />
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But whether or not this blog always (or even efficiently) provides a vehicle for this to happen, I still am drawn toward, and am seeking to live in response to, the nudging of the Spirit to live more consciously and intentionally in a place of Holy Leisure . . . a life that is characterized by an unhurried sense of awareness and responsiveness . . . A way of life in which the agenda for which I was created is not lost track of in the midst of the agendas I create . . .<br />
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I've got a way to go, but I am looking forward to the journey.Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-89655970481769383052009-07-12T14:55:00.000-07:002010-01-21T21:24:44.348-08:00An Altar in the World<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB1c0QSlDKVuGd4d4DnI2z1oKBzFX2KBwDiN9wJaGg888-iVTgqwxhRhUjgvyVx690NNcIEn2W2uzJuH7h5ABo2FgJqfCKnlX7GrZLUGDeLcANgY7RQJ2ob5IM1I8IBVGahH_5xHYGeX8z/s1600-h/AltarInTheWorld.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357697270202656370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB1c0QSlDKVuGd4d4DnI2z1oKBzFX2KBwDiN9wJaGg888-iVTgqwxhRhUjgvyVx690NNcIEn2W2uzJuH7h5ABo2FgJqfCKnlX7GrZLUGDeLcANgY7RQJ2ob5IM1I8IBVGahH_5xHYGeX8z/s320/AltarInTheWorld.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 275px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 180%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">An Altar in the World<br />
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</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">One of the books that I have recently had the opportunity to enjoy is Barbara Brown Taylor's </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Since I wound up reviewing this book for Spectrum, rather than comment on it too much here, I thought I would simply post the link where you can go to read the review and the conversation of others in regard to it and the book. Definitely a book well worth reading and savoring!</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.spectrummagazine.org/reviews/book_reviews/2009/07/12/altar_world_geography_faith" style="font-family: arial;">Spectrum Review of An Altar in the World</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.nationalcathedral.org/mp3s/sf090111.mp3">Listen to Barbara Taylor talk about the Book</a>Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-79629168154930497882009-06-06T21:50:00.000-07:002010-01-21T21:25:02.931-08:00Slow Learners<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyd05G3TfOrW2swaPPzitGlnHiCju3nNrBQ2FIfD9zNX_bDfiMcmxtpwC9c00H2aY8ziT86nHbgIc-QW79IrrY5EAyQ6u6Xns317ENyLSfm30Py2N5Hlb8KLQovPo5DNRHxWFAPNkPMXO/s1600-h/flowers+gones.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344447610341207330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyd05G3TfOrW2swaPPzitGlnHiCju3nNrBQ2FIfD9zNX_bDfiMcmxtpwC9c00H2aY8ziT86nHbgIc-QW79IrrY5EAyQ6u6Xns317ENyLSfm30Py2N5Hlb8KLQovPo5DNRHxWFAPNkPMXO/s320/flowers+gones.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 168px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 192px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 180%; font-weight: bold;">Slow Learners</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">"Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">Where have all the flowers gone?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">Gone to young maids, everyone . . .</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">When will we ever learn, when will we ever learn?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Many times over the course of the past several decades, the words of this song that I first heard as a child in the 60's have come back to me. The question is still as urgent and poignant today as it was then. Sadly, it is also as easily dismissed. The question of course, however it might be expressed in words, is much older, with roots reaching back at least as far as to the first century and the hillsides of Galilee and Judea.<br />
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This last week provided an occasion for raising it once again, reflecting on our history, our hearts, and perhaps remembering once again what it is that we are called towards, and away from. In the words of Elie Wiesel, a survivor of the holocaust, at the conclusion of his tour of the concentration camp where he was once held prisoner, there is much to listen carefully to and to consider.<br />
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<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/06/05/obama-buchenwald-speech-t_n_211898.html">Click Here</a> to see a transcript of Elie Wiesel's remarks.<br />
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</span>Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-75070382034557036562009-04-16T07:26:00.000-07:002010-01-21T21:25:17.060-08:00Tea Time<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMjc7_LUCJpTQ0Az9iedqGv8FWRCZRKR0yEL-VaUSXcgewYtgt98dDyVALe3gQ6ALmYTmb42VztGd4sSNPXx-W_4wALL2QV1cQ5CBaqc6y5iZtgQTlp1z1B9aQsx-E8gQlUTj17E7O9eF/s1600-h/Tea+Party.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325299869150422114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMjc7_LUCJpTQ0Az9iedqGv8FWRCZRKR0yEL-VaUSXcgewYtgt98dDyVALe3gQ6ALmYTmb42VztGd4sSNPXx-W_4wALL2QV1cQ5CBaqc6y5iZtgQTlp1z1B9aQsx-E8gQlUTj17E7O9eF/s320/Tea+Party.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 241px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: 180%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;">Tea Time?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Interesting, the occasions for which we find reasons to gather. Some grow out of deep, rich convictions and roots . . . others express what we are caught up in at the moment . . . others are tinged with an element of absurdity (as in the famous Tea Party to which Alice found herself invited) . . . and still others have meanings that lie below the surface to be mined, reflected upon, and are probably more transformative than we might otherwise at first suspect.<br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">Last week, many churches celebrated a shared meal, first instituted in its current form on a Thursday evening just before Easter weekend. Motivations were somewhat mixed as the dinner party gathered, but by the end of the evening, the focus had shifted (although not enough for the events of the next 72 hours to be fully grasped, at least right away, but it was a significant start). Some would have found the gathering quite odd and impractical in many ways, others found a richness there that literally changed their lives.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJzIF_r9qNNq1Lgj5_Rv1Qhp0fhB1v9pGYW76hS7eX3xkS22yZajvDuNPYpbBFWbCTnxRYvb2jX_oyLQzKGeTJtlMnb_pviFJnyQJSMLzjgNTq0TwQyqWAOIjsTKoHXN8lz-m0R1Y0WXnA/s1600-h/Tea+Party+2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325302195348167106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJzIF_r9qNNq1Lgj5_Rv1Qhp0fhB1v9pGYW76hS7eX3xkS22yZajvDuNPYpbBFWbCTnxRYvb2jX_oyLQzKGeTJtlMnb_pviFJnyQJSMLzjgNTq0TwQyqWAOIjsTKoHXN8lz-m0R1Y0WXnA/s320/Tea+Party+2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 211px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;">Yesterday, many found reasons to gather in order to re-enact another kind of historical gathering, although some might differ about just how much continuity there was between the two events. Some found the event quite energizing as they gathered in protest, many commenting, curiously, about how much they enjoyed the dynamics of the this kind of expression. (Curious, because some of the same had been somewhat less than warm towards groups who gathered to express themselves in similar ways at other times for other causes).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Gathering and giving voice to the things we care about is a part of our culture and tradition, even if the tendency is to be more appreciative and protective of those sentiments that match ours than those we may disagree with (which is true of most people, whatever side of a particular issue they may find themselves on). Our voices are shaped by what we care about, and what we care about by what we voice. But as in that dinner party that was held nearly 2,000 years ago, to which we still receive invitations on a regular basis, what we bring to the table, and what happens around the table, sometimes catches us by surprise. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Greg Boyd in his book </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">The Myth of a Christian Nation: How The Quest for Political Power is Destroying the Church</span><span style="font-family: arial;">, makes an interesting observation about one of those times when Jesus responded to a tax question:</span><br />
<blockquote style="font-family: arial;">Given how politicized his environment was, it is nothing short of amazing how thoroughly Jesus preserved the distinctness of the kingdom he came to bring. . . For example, at several points in his ministry some of Jesus' opponents tried to entrap him in one of the hottest political topics of the day -- the issue of paying taxes . . . In one instance, Jesus responded to the question . . . by holding up a coin and asking "Whose head is this, and whose title?" . . . To grasp the ironic brilliance of Jesus' response, it's helpful to know that the Jews of this time were deeply offended by currency that bore the image of the emperor . . . Only God can make an image of himself, and he did so when he made humans . . . Jesus ingeniously linked the issue . . . with . . . paying taxes. . . Why should we who are God's people fight with each other over how much of this we should keep or give back? . . . The thing people should rather be concerned with, Jesus is saying, is whether or not they are giving to God what bears his image and what therefore belongs wholly to him -- namely our very lives. Indeed, Jesus was ironically suggesting that an inappropriate preoccupation with what we should do with Caesar's image may reflect a heart that is insufficiently preoccupied with what should be done with God's image . . . In this way Jesus wisely used the kingdom-of-the-world issue with its limited and divisive kingdom-of-the-world options as a springboard to pose the kingdom-of-God question and the kingdom-of-God option. He was demonstrating, once again, that he hadn't come to resolve the ambiguous and controversial issues that characterize the kingdom of the world. He rather came to offer all a radical alternative way of doing life, answering a completely different set of questions concerned with living life under the reign of God. (pages 60-61).<br />
</blockquote><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz2ULhynmJohkh3wIFbKwIt7Z5ov1jO4BWTJHY8wE52kZU1iya-vsqRduix4H5MTpWNtCW1QLvNAUjiIT_H6zJ-qKxihwRXsJLNHkZrc6VNZSJEtXEiXx3p7C78TI8Zcx3YqHNUl_4bxKk/s1600-h/Basin+%26+Towel.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325311105542854802" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz2ULhynmJohkh3wIFbKwIt7Z5ov1jO4BWTJHY8wE52kZU1iya-vsqRduix4H5MTpWNtCW1QLvNAUjiIT_H6zJ-qKxihwRXsJLNHkZrc6VNZSJEtXEiXx3p7C78TI8Zcx3YqHNUl_4bxKk/s320/Basin+%26+Towel.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 240px;" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />
I find the quote intriguing, the perspective refreshing, and the opportunity to return to the kind of dinner party that Jesus sent out invitations to some 2,000 years ago more compelling and challenging than ever. I am intrigued not only by what is served up on the table, but the way the Host relates to the guests, and the kind of transformation that begins to take place from the moment the first drops of water touch my feet, 'till the last bit of bread and wine is thoughtfully received, to the invitation to go and live in a way that is characterized by a way of life that is primarily concerned with doing for others what has been done for me, basin and towel in hand . . . being perhaps less concerned with protecting the place I hold at the table . . . and what kind of implications that might have about how I approach and invest myself in the other parties to which I am invited. </span>Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4651195191230267162.post-11387001201544381892009-03-04T09:05:00.000-08:002010-01-21T21:25:49.728-08:00Homecoming<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr6i3L-ucfQ1cit80__FYh-iZvNUihqn3N4F3dLZcQ8VI8-h4_dvgw7x_QEUU5i99h6DFSVM2RgG5N3_erq-IEQ9hToIkfQJ47dxdnwvpkyquH7BeePaLObOJd90ECm2ANeuJT6U4NY84h/s1600-h/lsu.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309383988493226450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr6i3L-ucfQ1cit80__FYh-iZvNUihqn3N4F3dLZcQ8VI8-h4_dvgw7x_QEUU5i99h6DFSVM2RgG5N3_erq-IEQ9hToIkfQJ47dxdnwvpkyquH7BeePaLObOJd90ECm2ANeuJT6U4NY84h/s320/lsu.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 178px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 361px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 180%;">Homecoming</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">It only took me thirty years to get around to it, but I finally managed to show up for a homecoming weekend at <a href="http://www.lasierra.edu/" style="font-family: lucida grande; font-weight: bold;">La Sierra University</a> where I graduated (actually a couple of times - although it was known as Loma Linda University then). This is, by the way, a great school! .<br />
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Truth be told, however, I probably would not have made it back this time had they not asked me to do something, which in this case was teach the General Lesson Study on Sabbath morning. In addition to enjoying the part of the weekend I was there for, I was reminded again that I don't do very well at keeping in touch with people as the years go by - something I would like to do better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">The lesson study turned out to be on the topic of "<a href="https://4154680006016549850-a-calimesasda-com-s-sites.googlegroups.com/a/calimesasda.com/shared-video/Home/Integrityofthepropheticgift.pdf?attredirects=0&auth=ANoY7cprVKk0J797tAQQXhqVPt3pFcfoCmrFjWTIxShO3wOxEiTwXX3D92NTaVLbsAbOQKrqLBZtqf08hE-7Gcqimb_F3LIeEZiQDR2zKoaZxrFBmF_PjfRCIcxXXO6z6fjnLZ0lAK-q1I7jICvh8pAdTbzrhChZaGN2MuohHax3bUMqyXasjc8TzwcpN0sx0IF9NPuc1THoP9gdZ3v4e-79xGb17kBDpw4iOmhFdn6vR2xKYiPEDk4%3D">The Integrity of the Prophetic Gift,</a>" and because a couple of people indicated an interest in getting a copy of the presentation, I am posting a link to a copy of a slightly (but certainly not adequately) edited transcript for those who might be interested. Transcripts, of course, tend to record what comes out of people's mouths, which is not always exactly the way you would say things if you were putting them on paper to be read. But with those limitations in mind, it is what it is. Nothing particularly profound or new here, but it is available for those interested. (<a href="https://4154680006016549850-a-calimesasda-com-s-sites.googlegroups.com/a/calimesasda.com/shared-video/Home/Integrityofthepropheticgift.pdf?attredirects=0&auth=ANoY7cprVKk0J797tAQQXhqVPt3pFcfoCmrFjWTIxShO3wOxEiTwXX3D92NTaVLbsAbOQKrqLBZtqf08hE-7Gcqimb_F3LIeEZiQDR2zKoaZxrFBmF_PjfRCIcxXXO6z6fjnLZ0lAK-q1I7jICvh8pAdTbzrhChZaGN2MuohHax3bUMqyXasjc8TzwcpN0sx0IF9NPuc1THoP9gdZ3v4e-79xGb17kBDpw4iOmhFdn6vR2xKYiPEDk4%3D">transcript</a>)</span>Ken Curtishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11653286870967721986noreply@blogger.com0