Continuing a Fictitious Conversation

Conversation Continues . . .

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 . . .  

Bob  I can see by what you've said already that these books really have been unsettling for you.

Jerry  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.

Bob  More than just the practice of reflecting on God's graciousness at the end of the day that we talked about last week?

Jerry  Oh yes, much more!  That was just the beginning!

Bob  So what are some of the other concerns?

Jerry  I don't think we have enough time here this morning to touch on all of them.

Bob  Well then, give me an example or two.

Jerry  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.

Bob   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.

Jerry  Yes, it is a Latin phrase, the language of the Catholic Church, which gives you a clue about it's origin.

Bob   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.

Jerry  But lectio divina was used by people at monasteries, right?

Bob  Yes, it was one of the ways that those who came to the monasteries studied and reflected on scripture.

Jerry  Yes, and that is what they say makes the practice so dangerous.

Bob  Because it was used at a monastery?

Jerry  Well, yes, because, for one thing, that means it has Catholic origins.  But is is also because it is such a mystical practice.

Bob  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.

Jerry  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?

Bob  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?

Jerry  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.  

Bob  Well, that sounds interesting, but I am not sure what that has to do with lectio divina.

Jerry  The books say that is what it is all about

Bob  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.

Jerry  That's sure not how they make it sound in the books I'm reading.

Bob  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!

Jerry  So, you are saying, that lectio divina is probably not a dangerous thing to engage in?

Bob  Do you even know what lectio divina is?

Jerry  Well, not exactly . . . I mean, not beyond the way it is described in what I am reading.  What exactly is it?

Bob  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.

Jerry  Doesn't sound too dangerous so far . . .

Bob  You think?

Jerry  Go on . . .

Bob In the classical way it was practiced it had 3 or 4 parts that can be summarized as follows:  Reading (that's the "lectio" part) in which you slowly and reflectively read (or listen to someone read) a passage of scripture through several times; Reflecting (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); Resting 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 talking to God 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.  

Jerry  Well, that doesn't sound like anything too troublesome, although the Latin words might be hard to keep track of.

Bob  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.

Jerry  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?

Bob  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.

Jerry  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?

Bob  Nope.  

Jerry  Then what is all the hoopla about?

Bob  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.

Jerry  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.

Bob  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.

Jerry  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?

Bob  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!

Jerry  Oh, so it is not "either or," it's "both and"!

Bob.  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.

Jerry  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?  

Bob  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.

Jerry  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.

Bob  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)

Jerry  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.

Bob  Sounds good!  

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.  

A Fictitious Conversation

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.

Jerry  I’ve been reading a book this week that has really been troubling to me.

Bob  Really, in what way?

Jerry  In terms of my devotional life, and the time I spend with God.

Bob  How so?

Jerry  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.

Bob  Yeah.  I do something similar.  It can be a very meaningful way to reflect and pray.

Jerry  That’s what I thought too . . . but that was before I knew where this idea came from.

Bob  Why would that matter?  I mean, why wouldn’t you want to take some time to be in prayer like that?

Jerry  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.

Bob  Yeah . . . so . . .

Jerry  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!

Bob  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?

Jerry  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!

Bob  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.

Jerry  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?

Bob  Sort of like a trojan horse or something?

Jerry  Well, yeah.

Bob 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.

Jerry  But doesn't that sound kind of risky?

Bob 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.

Jerry  But we should consider the source, shouldn’t we?

Bob 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!”

Jerry  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 . . .

Bob 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?

Jerry  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?

Bob 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.

Jerry  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?

Bob  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?

Jerry Well . . . no . . . in fact, it seems like the very kind of thing the Bible encourages us to do.

Bob 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? 

Jerry   Actually . . . no.

Bob So, why then would you want to stop doing it?  

Jerry  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.

Bob 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?

Jerry  Of course not!

Bob Why?

Jerry  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!

Bob 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.

Jerry  Even if the people don’t fully believe everything I believe to be true?

Bob 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.

Jerry  Well, so what about the book and the concerns it raises?

Bob 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?

Jerry  Oh . . . yes . . . I see what you mean . . . maybe so.

Bob 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.

Jerry 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.

Bob 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.

Jerry  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.

Bob Yeah . . . 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.

Jerry  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 . . .

Bob . . .  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.

Jerry 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.

Bob And maybe even find ourselves working at cross purposes with God?

Jerry Perhaps that is where the real heresy lies?

Bob Perhaps.  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.

Jerry  Seems easy enough, doesn’t it?

Bob  Wonder why we make it so hard sometimes?

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.

One

I've been through a number of places and things since I last posted here.  Some invigorating, some perplexing.  


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 is not 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.  


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.    


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.  


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. 


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 One 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. 


. . .  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!


http://www.the1project.org/ 

For some additional comments and reflections on the One project, you might also be interested in Nathan Brown's article http://www.atoday.org/article/1076/blogs/brown-nathan/a-tale-of-two-gatherings

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)  http://www.calimesasda.com/media.php?pageID=11

Wholly Jesus

Wholly Jesus

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 Wholly Jesus.  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.

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.

 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.  

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.  

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 whole people, following a Wholly Jesus.

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:

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.

He then goes on to ask:

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. 

*(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)

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), Wholly Jesus 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.  

What a great opportunity for many to discover new friends in unexpected places!

Being Pursued

Pursued

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.

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. 

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.

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."

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.

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.

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, I did find myself grateful for the realization of what (or  perhaps Who) it is that continues to pursue me (and Who is in pursuit of him as well, even though he may not know it).  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!

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!

Really?

Really? 

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.  


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.  

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 a little ashamed?  Really?


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.  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 a little ashamed?  Really?

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.   

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.

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) you don't have to live like this. 


Following Jesus is much more about the way that we live, the kind of people we become, and 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.


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 really live 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?

Listening In-between

Listening In-between

(some reflections from a quiet afternoon)

Life is complicated.  Anyone who tells you otherwise is not giving you the whole story.

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 ff).  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.

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.

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, "This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to Him."  As the heightened experience fades, they find that they are simply left with Jesus.  

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.

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 ("O unbelieving and perverse generation . . . how long shall I stay with you and put up with you?" vs.41), what is perhaps the most significant is the last phrase ("bring your son here").   

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.

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.

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.  

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. 

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.  

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),  but our willingness to listen carefully and responsively not so much to the voice from the crowd, but to the voice from the cloud.  

"This is my Son, Whom I have chosen; listen to Him."

Being faithful to the Story matters.

Two Groups

Two Groups

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.  

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.

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.

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?"

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.  

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.  

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.

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.

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 . . .
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 . . .

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.  

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.

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.