Housecleaning

I realize from the start here that not everyone will understand my approach to this series of posts. This is painfully obvious in some of the comments I’ve received. These comments comprise three basic types (NOTE: I moderate ALL my comments so if your comment appears on my blog then your comments are not the ones in question here). They are…

The Negative Type – the basic message here is “Just suck it up and quit your whining, you’re complaining too much.” (I’m not making it up here, this is a direct quote from a comment I received.) One commenter even stated that because I haven’t been able to provide for my family and provide insurance for my wife that God is judging me and that I am ‘worse than an infidel.’ (No, I am not kidding.)

The Fatalistic Type – the basic message here is that God’s will is going to be done no matter what, and there is nothing you can do to stop it (even if it means being homeless as one commenter stated), so (and here we are back to this) quit your whining (to which they then they add) and just praise God.

The Individualistic Type – the basic message here is that all I need is just me and Jesus. After all I (individually) am the ‘bride’ of Christ and all I (individually) need to do is focus more on my (individual) relationship with Jesus and then my problems won’t seem so big. No community needed – just me and Jesus. (I can’t even begin to describe the theological difficulties here.)

What is clear from some of these comments is that for some what I have written amounts basically to a lack of faith on my part. Most have expressed their well meaning concern whereas at least two have been downright judgmental and even called my status as a Christian into question. What is also clear is that these responses lack anything of the categories remotely resembling the language of lament or the need for community, and at least from my perspective seem very uncomfortable with real and raw human experience and as a result are extremely theologically ‘thin’. I think a strong case can be made that the result of such theological ‘thinness’ is to fail to really listen to the other and to react in judgmental, fatalistic, and individualistic ways.

Its honestly hard to not let these types of comments get to me (especially the one about me not providing health insurance for Christie and this making me an infidel or worse). But I want to avoid the temptation to spend too long parsing these responses. That would sidetrack me I think from where the real theological work for me is right now. My aim in the remainder of this post is to give some thoughts related to running the race well, the importance of space, and the intersection of exile and place in the hopes of moving towards something hopefully resembling a philosophically and theologically thick description of these things in relation to my own experience, especially as of late.

Thoughts on Running the Race

The one thought at this time that comes to my mind when I think of running the race is “I’m tired!” To be honest I am not sure how I can go on. My lungs burn and my legs are heavy. I want to remain fixed on the prize that my liberating King has for me for running the race well, but I need a sabbatical. I remarked somewhere recently (it may have been to a friend or in a recent blog, not sure which) that if someone were to offer to provide financially for my family and I to take a three month sabbatical in the mountains I would accept it in a heartbeat.

One factor in my tiredness has to do with my current job working for a mental health organization, which involves significant tensions currently. My experience in pastoral roles and as a theologian makes it hard for me to work within the mental health system (at least as I’ve experienced it here, I know many fine mental health practitioners, but though varying from state to state it does seem to me that the mental health system is very broken). But beyond these sort of tensions, and more to the heart of the issue, I am also simply and plainly relationally and spiritually spent (is it ok if I admit this?). Just recently I had the experience of meeting with one of the persons I help … and there was nothing. Emotionally and spiritually I was scraping bottom and there was nothing.

Most would call this burnout. But what I am feeling is not burnout and I have a feeling that the ‘burnout’ epidemic we sometimes hear about with pastors is not really burnout. It is more a spiritual/relational emptiness and perhaps numbness that comes from giving everything and never really getting a real day off, a Sabbath, or a sabbatical. (I think I am only now beginning to realize the true effect of being a trauma chaplain resident at a level one trauma hospital, the busiest in the nation, had on me.) Burnout you can perhaps help with some time off, better boundaries, and better time management (the kinds of things the behavioral health world would advise). But this spiritual emptiness and numbness goes deeper than simple ‘behavior management’ … this sort of thing requires wholistic spiritual refreshment.

Even in my weakness and exhaustion, I really do hope that I am running the race well. I’ve never really been concerned about resume building. I have simply tried to follow God in the missio Dei wherever that leads. If I may use the ‘F’ word, thus far it seems I’ve seen a lot of failure – failure as a ‘traditional’ church minister, failure as a church planter, and failure as a chaplain even (in some respects), and now failure as a worker in the mental health field. But mistakes (oh boy, yeah a lot of mistakes) and all, it has shaped me into the particular person that I am today – one who still has as his aim to run the race set before him well.

However, not just any old definition of ‘well’ will do. I believe we have to define it in theological terms. The goal (telos) of what might be described as a ‘well lived life’ is distinctly trinitarian, narrative, and missional. My aim is to live my life in a way that is unintelligible if 1) the triune God we Christians worship does’t exist (a la Hauerwas), 2) or is separated from the biblical narrative and story of Christ, and 3) or is severed from the missional activity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit through the church for the sake of the world. This is how I see the race set before us, but I’m tired. I need rest. It occurs to me that since our first miscarriage the one thing C.C. and I haven’t been able to do is rest. We are both tired.

Thoughts on The importance of Space

I think there is something we know inherently about the importance of space. Space seems to transcend the physical, even while including the physical. Space also has to do with the atmosphere created, the way it feels, the intangibles. Teachers try to make their classrooms a creative ‘space’ for learning, retailers and marketers try to make their stores a ‘space’ where you will buy stuff, guys everywhere try to make a ‘space’ where they will impress the girl, and newly married couples try to create a ‘space’ in which to raise a family. In terms of my own depletion and exhaustion, I have concluded that space is a big issue – or, perhaps better put, the lack of it. There are three expressions of space I’ll discuss here.

Let’s consider physical space first off. When we were at Logsdon in Abilene we felt extremely blessed in terms of physical space to exist as a family. We had gone from extremely small accommodations to a three bedroom rental from the school. Never mind the fact that it was drafty, freezing in the winter, burning up hot in the summer, and had some of the ugliest wallpaper ever in the kitchen … I loved it. I was able to get an old desk and make myself an office with my books. A place to study, ponder, pray, and refresh. This was taken away when we moved to Houston as both our apartments were very small (and I lost my desk). And now we are in even smaller accommodations as we live with my in-laws. While grateful for the hospitality, it has been difficult to create a space here that is refreshing.

Much of this is due how physical space and relational space intersect. When we moved from Houston Christie and I both wanted to reclaim our marriage as we had both been chaplain residents and that had taken its natural toll (being a CPE resident is a bit like working two full time very demanding jobs, times that by two for us). We have been able to do this some but in many ways the physical space hampers the relational space needed for us to do this. This in itself is draining for me and for us both as well. It seems that any place we go there is always someone else there.

Finally there is what I call liturgical space. This has to do with our rhythms of life, how we mark time, and how that forms us as humans. One of the ways that I have sought to take care of myself and ensure that I was refreshed was to be sure that I was living out of the story of Christ on a daily basis. To do this I follow the Revised Common Lectionary readings and the liturgical church calendar. This gives me a way of exchanging the ‘rat race’ of life and going to a job for the life giving routine/rhythm of a vocationally filled life – it gives me a different way to mark time.

I have tried to keep my liturgical disciplines going during this time of transition, but I’m still depleted. I think that a large part of this has to do with the fact that my regular practice of silence and solitude has been compromised.  Since we have been here in Carlsbad, and having tried an array of places (the library, the local coffee shop, IHOP, my own desk at the house), I have not been able to find or create the needed space (physical, relational, or liturgical) for silence and to be alone that I need for truly wholistic spiritual (which includes the physical, relational, and liturgical) replenishment. The result – I’m wiped! Silence and solitude as disciplines help create the conditions and space which I need to be refreshed. I’m just not getting much silence or solitude!

Thoughts on Exile, Vocation, and Place

I have described my experience of late as an exile of sorts. It seems that most people I have spoke with take exile to imply some sort of sinful disobedience – exile is punishment. I’ve been asked (sometimes in a perplexed, inquiring tone and once or twice in an accusatory one), “Do you think you did something wrong?” or “Why do you think God would punish you?” or “Where do you think you were disobedient?” But the idea of exile itself need not involve some sort of disobedience. God can certainly chastise as God sees fit, but there can still be many experiences of exile that are not the result of sinful disobedience. Sometimes exile can be self imposed, or the natural outworking of bad choices (that are not necessarily sinful), or one of the maladies that accompanies what John of the Cross termed the ‘dark night of the soul (something I am intimately acquainted with).

Eugene Peterson in Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places describes living in exile as “jerky and spasmodic, anxious and hurried, with little sense of place or grounding” and declares “these are the same exilic conditions lived through by the people of God in the 6^th century B.C.” (64) Exile has a long history in the story of the people of God. In this story, the feeling of exile is theologically related to the loss of place – exile is about displacement.

Dis … place … ment.

That word seems overflowing with theological significance for me. I think it gives something behind why Zephaniah 3:16-17 became ‘our verse’ for Christie and I after the loss of our first baby to miscarriage – and why it has continued to resonate with our experience all these years. I’ve felt displaced for quite some time (it hasn’t just been a recent Carlsbad, NM thing). This can probably be most clearly seen in that in the 14 yrs C.C. and I have been married, we have lived in eight different towns and we have moved 13 times.

I shake my head as I look back over what I have just written. How could it be that someone like myself, who is a student of postmodern theology, big as it is on contextual narratives, has been captive to the distinctly modern story of displacement (with the loss of place in American culture we could say that we have what could be called an epidemic of homelessness). I must confess, it has been sometime since I felt like I was at ‘home’. Indeed, one way to describe my exilic experience is a sense of homelessness. The question then is, where is ‘home’ – where am I, are we, to be ‘placed’?

Drawing upon some of his earlier work, in his ‘Sixth Study’ in Oneself as Another, Paul Ricoeur speaks of what he terms ‘emplotment’, which can be described as “the capacity to bring together the features of a text into a coherent temporal flow.” The ‘texts’ in question here are us (both individually and communally) and Ricoeur speaks of emplotment in relation to what he describes as ‘the self and narrative identity’ – basically who we are becomes formed by the ‘plot’ of our lives, we emplot ourselves in a narrative and storied fashion as we go. But for a narrative or story to be what Peterson describes as ‘grounded’ it also needs ‘placement’ – it needs to be placed somewhere locally (all lived spirituality is local). So in addition to Ricoeur’s notion of emplotment I propose we might also consider the idea of ‘emplacement’ as well. This in turn calls forth the desperate need for a theology of place.

At this point another Peterson quote from Christ Plays comes to mind, a quote that has been haunting me for at least a year now. Peterson says this,

Everything that the Creator God does in forming us humans is done in place. It follows from this that since we are his creatures and can hardly escape the conditions of our making, for us everything that has to do with God is also in place. All living is local: this land, this neighborhood, these trees and streets and houses, this work, these people. (76)

Look at that last line again, “this land … this neighborhood … these trees and streets and houses … this work … these people.” In my exilic homelessness this line captures beautifully what I crave, a locality in which to work out my vocation (regardless of what job I may have or how I pay the bills) as pastor/theologian lived within the nexus of race, space, and place.

But where?

Well, the place where I grew up no longer feels like home, it is no longer my place. And a slew of other places where we have lived just seemed ‘temporary’ (the great enemy of emplacement): Ft. Worth; Glen Rose; Portales, NM (our first exile); Carlsbad, NM (our present exile); Stafford; Houston (even though we love Ecclesia Houston still felt temporary); and even Plainview (where we lived for five years). The place where we have lived that did not feel temporary (even when we were packing to leave for Stafford/Houston) was Abilene, TX.

This land, neighborhood, trees and streets and houses = Abilene.

These people (our community) = Crosspoint Fellowship and Hardin-Simmons University/Logsdon Seminary.

I am finishing the last part of this post as we are visiting Abilene for the weekend – the first time in 2 1/2 years we have been able to see in person many folks that we consider family. I simply can’t shake the gut level feeling we belong here, that feeling of suddenly taking a deep breath after holding your breath for way too long. Hermeneutically speaking faith, life, and mission make sense here. Abilene feels like home. Place, people, and the mission of God … woven together. Sure, we can be missional anywhere we find ourselves – its just for us this place called Abilene feels like the most natural place, or locality, for us to join Father, Son, and Spirit in the missio Dei and work out our vocations together in community with these people.

‘Tis the place and the people, I believe, where and with whom my discontent can be set at ease.

All this of course brings up even more questions … which will have to wait till another post. Until then thanks for reading.

May the shalom of our liberating King Jesus be with you.

On the mission of the church, one of the best books I’ve ever read is Christopher J.H. Wright’s monstrous 535 page The Mission of God: Unlocking the Bible’s Grand Narrative. The product description on amazon.com reads,

Most Christians would agree that the Bible provides a basis for mission. But Christopher Wright boldly maintains that mission is bigger than that–there is in fact a missional basis for the Bible! The entire Bible is generated by and is all about God’s mission. In order to understand the Bible, we need a missional hermeneutic of the Bible, an interpretive perspective that is in tune with this great missional theme. We need to see the “big picture” of God’s mission and how the familiar bits and pieces fit into the grand narrative of Scripture. Beginning with the Old Testament and the groundwork it lays for understanding who God is, what he has called his people to be and do, and how the nations fit into God’s mission, Wright gives us a new hermeneutical perspective on Scripture. This new perspective provides a solid and expansive basis for holistic mission. Wright emphasizes throughout a holistic mission as the proper shape of Christian mission. God’s mission is to reclaim the world–and that includes the created order–and God’s people have a designated role to play in that mission.

Folks often ask me for a good primer on missional theology and I find that I can’t recommend Wright’s book because, well, 535 pages does not a primer make. So, I was rather pleased when I ran across the two videos below which are something of a condensed version of the book. In the videos Wright covers ‘God with a Mission’, ‘Humanity with a Mission’, ‘Old Testament Israel with a Mission’, ‘Jesus with a Mission’, ‘The Church with a Mission’, and ‘What does it mean to read the Bible from a missional perspective?’

In the first video Wright covers ‘Reading The Whole Bible For Mission: What Happens When We Do?’ and asks ‘a biblical basis for missions’ or ‘the missional basis of the Bible?’

Christopher Wright – Reading The Whole Bible For Mission: What Happens When We Do? from Southeastern Seminary on Vimeo.

In the second video Wright covers ‘God, Israel And The Nations: The OT and Christian Mission’ – which is good to counteract the tendency all to often to leave Israel and the Old Testament out of our story as Christians.

Christopher Wright – God, Israel And The Nations: The OT and Christian Mission from Southeastern Seminary on Vimeo.

A fuller outline of the videos can be found here and here.

We hear them after a huge disappointment, “God obviously has something better in store for you.”

We can hear them at the break up of a longstanding relationship, “Well, he/she just wasn’t the one. You just need to wait on God’s timing.”

We can hear them at the death of a child, “God just needed another angel in heaven.” (This is but one of the many well meaning, yet completely unhelpful and theologically vacuous clichés offered to C.C. and I as we suffered through losing three babies to miscarriage.)

And we can hear them from tracts meant to supposedly explain the gospel, “God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life.”

I’m sure that many find clichés helpful. I don’t. In my perspective clichés (like these above and others floating around out there) reduce faith to mere self help motivational pseudo proverbs that claim the look and feel of wisdom but lack any of the substance. To often clichés run rampant over the realities of human experience, dismissing pain with a few words, and sucking the mystery out of God’s activity in our lives. Clichés lack any real theological promise to narrate us into the story of our suffering and liberating Messiah. While it may be true that each cliché is based on a ‘truth’ or represents a ‘truth’ they fail to account for how ‘truth’ is lived out contextually in the lives of real people and their theological shallowness twists and distorts whatever ‘truth’ might be embedded in them.

In the evangelical circles that I grew up in there were two clichés that were absolute favorites…

“I love Jesus but hate religion” and “It’s a relationship … not a religion!” Oh, and let’s not forget, “Religion says ‘do’ but Jesus says ‘done!” (ok, so I guess that makes three not two).

These were even favorites of mine when I was in high school and as a newly called minister after high school. There is even another variety that has popped up that goes, “I’m spiritual but not religious” (which is thought by some to more inclusive than the standard evangelical clichés). The fact is that this sort of thing still seems to resonate with the experience of a great many people, as the response to the spoken word video by Jefferson Bethke that recently went viral shows.

This video has garnered a kajillion views. Many of my facebook friends shared this video on their wall and had nothing but the highest praise saying things like, “This guy gets it!” But Bethke also drew a host of responses in the form of critiques of what many of these persons saw as the promotion of a false dichotomy.  These are some of my favorites:

1) From Jamie Arpin-Ricci, Why St. Francis Loved Jesus AND Religion.

2) From Christianity Today, The Business of Jesus vs Religion, and “why you can’t reconstruct a stripped down, organic, anti-corporate version of what you think Jesus should be.”

3) A Catholic response in the form of a spoken word video:

4) The ‘Internet Monk’ blog on Why I Just Can’t Hate Religion, Though I Love Jesus.

5) Brian LePort at ‘Near Emmaus’ responds with two great posts: Remember, Jesus Practiced Religion too! and Christianity Against Religion.

6) The normally peace loving folks over at the ‘Mennonite Weekly Review’ pull no punches with: The ‘I hate religion but love Jesus’ approach (and YouTube video) is simplistic, unbiblical and dangerous.

7) In addition to the Catholic spoken word response above, here is a Lutheran version (my apologies that we are still waiting on the Baptist version):

8) The ‘Tall Skinny Kiwi’ himself, Andrew Jones, has the skinny in his post: Religion: Love it and Hate it. He summarizes, “There is such a thing as dead, empty, powerless religion which God rejects” … “And there is also religion done right.”

9) Mike Morrell in a rather comprehensive post, Jesus and Religion’s Relationship Status: It’s Complicated.

10) Christian Piatt at ‘Red Letter Christians’ on Hating Religion, Loving Jesus: A Well-Meaning False Dichotomy.

11) Kevin DeYoung at the ‘Gospel Coalition’ blog asks, Does Jesus Hate Religion? Kinda, Sorta, Not Really (see here for a Follow Up on the Jesus/Religion Video with some interaction between DeYoung and Bethke).

12) And finally, Ed Cyzewski at ‘in.a.mirror.dimly’ with a wonderful post on Why Theologians Should Buy the Religion-Hating YouTube Guy a Fruit Basket.

Nowadays, even while trying to understand where Bethke is coming from (having been there once myself), I tend to agree with many if not most of the points made in these critiques (but not all, just because I link to it does NOT mean I agree 100% with it). My contention though is that there are even deeper concerns at the heart of this conversation about Jesus vs religion (as far as I can see) that most people are completely missing. I am going to get these in another post that should be up in the next day or two. For now I think we can say a couple of things completely clearly. First, Bethke is not the first to say these sort of things. The pitting of Jesus against religion has a long pedigree in modern evangelicalism. Second, its very clear this is a conversation that’s long overdue (and that needs some definite theological, philosophical, and hermeneutical thickness to it).

So, before I add my critique and response let me ask:

Do you love Jesus but hate religion? What is the relationship between Jesus and religion? Or do you think Jesus vs religion is an unhelpful false dichotomy? What do you think?

I look forward to reading your comments. Play nice though.

The result of this was that I grew up around Catholics my whole life, but at church I often heard about how Catholics weren’t really Christians. They were just caught up in religiosity in which they were trying to earn their way to heaven. There was no way that their faith was genuine. This may sound harsh (and it was) but this was the sort of thing that I heard from Baptist pastors, deacons, and church members alike. One deacon used to tell me that the phrase ‘vain repetitions’ was invented just for Catholics.

I am thankful for the few (like my mentor Donnie York) that did tell me that many Catholics actually were capable of genuine faith and it was probably about same percentage as Baptists – maybe a little more! As a chaplain/CPE resident I had ample opportunity to speak with Catholics as they faced traumas and many times death. I am grateful to these Christian brothers and sisters for teaching me about their deep faith in Christ during these times of deep grief and lament. Yes, we have theological differences, but this does/did not cancel out the depth of their faith in Jesus. I cringe whenever I hear fellow Baptists or other rather ‘conservative’ evangelicals say that Catholics can’t possibly be Christians.

In the sermon yesterday morning the pastor told a story about when Giuseppe Melchiorre Sarto became Pope Pious X in 1903. Sarto apparently did not want to accept the position of pope initially but was encouraged to do so by his friend, Cardinal Rafael Merry del Val y de Zulueta (that’s quite the name!), who would become Pious X’s Secretary of State. Merry del Val gifted the new Pope with a prayer that would become known as the Litany of Humility, and one which del Val was said to have prayed every day after the Mass. The full text is below. Read it slowly and meditate on it.

O Jesus, meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being loved, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being extolled, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being honored, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being praised, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being preferred to others, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being consulted, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being approved, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being humiliated, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being despised, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of suffering rebukes, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being calumniated, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being forgotten, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being ridiculed, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being wronged, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being suspected, Deliver me, O Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be esteemed more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be chosen and I set aside, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be praised and I go unnoticed, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be preferred to me in everything, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

Can I just say that I think that Baptist deacon was wrong? There is nothing ‘vain’ about this prayer. If you can pray this prayer and it falls under the category of ‘vain repetition’ … well, my friend, don’t blame the prayer because that’s not where the problem resides. Church father John Chrysostom said that the lack of humility and the search for ‘popular praise’ was (in a reference to the ancient Hydra slain by Hercules) an ‘invisible and savage monster’ that needed its many heads cut off, or better yet, to have prevented them from growing altogether. Those that are able to slay this monster of popular praise and esteem and the lack of humility will enjoy the ‘quiet heaven of rest’ while those that don’t will suffer ‘manifold struggles, personal confusion, deep dejection, and a host of other passions.’

We Protestants (of all flavors) can learn much from our Eastern Orthodox (represented here by the ancient wisdom of Chrysostom) and Catholic brethren. May we take Chrysostom’s advice and slay the monster of pride and the lack of humility. Oh that the Litany of Humility were prayed more often in ALL expressions of the ekklesia!

May it gradually shape and form us into the humble image of our Liberating King.

‘Deliver us, O Jesus’ … ‘Jesus, grant us the grace’ …  may this be our prayer!

N.T. WRIGHT part 1 from ETS Productions on Vimeo.

N.T. WRIGHT part 2 from ETS Productions on Vimeo.

Jesus is (Not) My ‘Personal’ Lord and Savior…

What does this mean? One of the things it means is that the gospel can never primarily be about Jesus being my personal Lord and Savior. Jesus being my ‘personal’ Lord too often translates in modernity as my private Lord – and if Jesus is merely one’s private Lord then Jesus is not really Lord. Jesus is not content to be a private Lord; he demands to be one’s public Lord as well. Nor is Jesus merely my individual Lord; he is Lord and King precisely because he Lord and King of the whole world/cosmos. And neither can Jesus be merely my personal savior. I have an ongoing tension with what might be called the ‘plan of salvation’ gospel – what New Testament scholar Scot McKnight calls the ‘soterian’ gospel.

What’s this tension all about? Well its simple really – the tension here is that the ‘plan of salvation’ isn’t the gospel. The individualist plan of salvation both reduces the robust picture of salvation in the Scriptures and obscures the true gospel from us. It exchanges and confuses a small part for the whole and thereby distorts and loses the whole. Surely what evangelicals know as the plan of salvation is connected to the gospel (at least we hope it is) but we must avoid collapsing the gospel into the typical individualist plan of salvation of modern evangelicalism. This must be said, if we only know Jesus as ‘personal Lord and Savior’ in this sort of way we don’t really know Jesus.

A King and a Kingdom…

This is because there can be no good news apart from the gospel of the Kingdom. The gospel is about a Person (who is a king) and a Kingdom. The gospel is the good news of this King and Kingdom. If we fail to preach the gospel of the Kingdom, in favor of the plan of salvation, we have failed to preach the gospel. The gospel is the story about the Liberating King Jesus – how his life, death, burial, and resurrection of come to fulfill God’s promises to Israel and, through Israel and Jesus, God’s promises to the nations and all of the Created Order. The gospel story is the proclamation of the good news that Jesus is both Lord and King. There can be no good news apart from Jesus as the Liberating King.  This is why I love ‘the Voice’ New Testament which is the work of the Ecclesia Bible Society which is connected to Ecclesia Church in Houston.

I came to love the reading of the Scriptures from the Voice in worship at Ecclesia. The biggest reason for this is that the translators for the Voice project chose to translate ‘Christ’ or ‘Messiah’ as ‘Liberating King’ or ‘Liberator’. Why do I like this so much? Its because so many today seem to have lost our story and consider the Old Testament superfluous. Disconnected from its story the term ‘Messiah’ (which is Hebrew) has no meaning. As a result when it comes to ‘Christ’ (which is Greek) these folks do no better. Many seem to think that ‘Christ’ is simply Jesus’ last name. I love the fact that the Voice makes clear that ‘Christ’ is not Jesus’ last name and that it gives some narrative content to ‘Messiah’ – Jesus is the Liberating King (a wonderful phrase that continues to capture my imagination about who Jesus really is). This is what the Christmas gospel in the birth narratives of Matthew and Luke are all about – the inbreaking of the Kingdom in the birth of the Liberating King of Israel and the world.

The Christmas Gospel in Matthew…

Scot McKnight at the Jesus Creed blog discusses the presence of the Christmas gospel of the Kingdom in the narratives of Matthew (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4). He says in part,

“What is the good news, the gospel, at Christmas? Very simply there is one basic message we are invited to announce: Jesus, son of Mary and Joseph, is the King. The Christmas gospel — it’s all here — is that Jesus is King” and “the gospel is to declare that the Story of Israel (or the Bible) has been fulfilled in the Story of Jesus, who is King (Messiah) and Lord who saves. At the heart of this gospel then is a Story, a Story that begins with Adam and then all over again with Abraham and winds and wends its way all the way to Jesus. That Story is told in the Old Testament. The Christmas Story is a Story fulfilled. Let me turn this around: these are Advent texts not just because they are about the birth of Jesus; they are Christmas texts because these texts singularly fulfill the OT Story’s anticipations.”

The Christmas Gospel in Luke…

Andrew Perriman at the P.OST blog has a good post on ‘Christmas now and then’ in which he traces the Kingdom theme present in Luke. He says,

“Jesus will be king over Israel, in the line of David: ‘And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end’ (Lk. 1:32-33). The magi come looking for a new born king of the Jews, whose star they had seen. When many nations are assembled against Jerusalem, a ‘ruler in Israel’ will come from Bethlehem, who will ‘gather the rest of his brothers’ and deliver his people from the invader, and the ‘remnant of Jacob’ will be established amongst the nations (Mic. 4:11-5:9; cf. Matt. 2:6). Herod had the male infants of Bethlehem slaughtered not because he feared the arrival of a personal saviour but because he believed his rule over Israel was threatened.”

This kingdom theme ought to cause us to think differently about the pronouncements of peace in Luke (see 1:30 with Mary’s ‘Do not be afraid’ and 2:10-14 with the shepherds). At church we did a study by Rick Warren called ‘The Purpose of Christmas’. But I was terribly disappointed that his study never mentioned anything of the Kingdom theme. Instead, the guy who sold a ton of books proclaiming ‘its not about you’ ultimately made it all about us. Christmas it seems was so that we can individually experience peace with God and feel at peace with God. I confessed in our discussion group that I was not at peace with Warren’s take on Christmas peace. I wondered…where is the Kingdom? Christmas peace that’s not Kingdom peace actually misses the ‘purpose of Christmas.’ Christmas peace can never be merely individual peace. Christmas peace is only found within the context of the Kingdom.

Perriman again comments,

“the birth of Jesus in the city of David coincided with a registration of the whole empire ordered by Caesar Augustus (Lk. 2:1-7). The good news of Jesus’ birth as ‘Saviour’ and ‘Lord’, of peace for those in Israel with whom God is pleased (Lk. 2:10-14), clashes with pronouncements concerning the birth of the divine Augustus, who was Son of God, Saviour, Lord, who had brought peace and prosperity to the empire.”

The (counter) Kingdom theme runs all throughout the birth narratives and this is what the peace pronouncements are – royal, kingly pronouncements of the arrival of King Jesus. What we have here is the Kingdom favor, Kingdom good news, and Kingdom peace of Jesus the Liberating King. The point is clear, the true king of Israel and the world is neither Herod nor Caesar but Jesus.

The Christmas Gospel of Mary’s Magnificat…

Finally, Chaplain Mike at the Internet Monk blog has a great three part series on ‘Mary’s Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) vs Today’s Gospel.’ (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3). He concludes that Mary,

1) sees what God has done for her as personal but not the sense that its private;

2) sees herself in God’s Story, not just God in her story;

3) sees the coming of Jesus coming as the inaguration of The Great Reversal (versus merely The Great Exchange);

and 4) sees the coming of Jesus as the fulfillment of God’s promises to Abraham.

He additionally says,

“Mary has a BIG gospel! — a gospel that covers the whole Bible and the whole world. This isn’t something she learned as a ‘deeper truth’ for mature Christians; this was her hope and expectation, but it is something the soterians miss because they jump from Genesis to Jesus and don’t include the whole story in their understanding of Gospel as Mary did. From the beginning, Mary praised God as the King who rules the earth, who has called her to join him in the Missio Dei of bringing about the blessing of a New Creation.”

I think that pretty much hits the gospel nail on its head!

The Christmas Gospel is a BIG Gospel…

I will be honest, the individualist plan of salvation ‘gospel’ (if we can even call it a gospel) crumpled under the weight of my grief as Christie and I went through a devastating failed adoption and also lost three of our babies to miscarriage. Because of this Christmas can be hard for us. As I navigated my grief I needed more than a general theory of salvation, getting my guilt taken care of, or being sure my soul went to heaven when I died so that I could hang out with other souls (do we not see how Gnostic this is when we speak this way?). I needed a gospel that was not about me, that was bigger than me, that was bigger than my grief. As it turns out I needed what the rest of the world needs; that which is ultimately true – the reality that actually constitutes the world – the gospel of the Kingdom. I needed the Christmas gospel of the Liberating King. The Kingdom and the communion of Father, Son, and Spirit it seemed were the only realities bigger than my grief.

This Advent season we have prepared for the coming (again) of Christ with the themes of hope, joy, peace, and love. These are Kingdom realities first and foremost which are rooted in the Kingdom of the Liberating King, and in which our participation in these realities comes not primarily in existential ‘goose bump’  fashion but through participation in the triune communion of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This is true hope, true joy, true peace, and true love. This is Kingdom hope, joy, peace, and love that draws us into the story of the Liberating King in which God is putting all things to rights, that gives us bodily resurrection, that includes a new heavens and a new earth, that calls us to join the Liberating King in the triune Missio Dei in the world of bringing new creation. This is the BIG gospel that Mary knew. Let us learn from Mary. Let us live within the Christmas gospel of the Liberating King, today and every day.

Happy Incarnation Day! May the hope, joy, peace, and love of the Liberating King Jesus be with you at all times.

You will find the excerpts below and can read the whole thing for yourself in The Sunday Sermons of the Great Fathers. The full text is available on Google Books as well. Happy reading and Merry Christmas!

I behold a new and wondrous mystery. My ears resound to the Shepherd’s song, piping no soft melody, but chanting full forth a heavenly hymn.  The Angels sing.  The Archangels blend their voice in harmony.  The Cherubim hymn their joyful praise.  The Seraphim exalt His glory.  All join to praise this holy feast, beholding the Godhead here on earth, and man in heaven.  He Who is above, now for our redemption dwells here below; and he that was lowly is by divine mercy raised.

Bethlehem this day resembles heaven; hearing from the stars the singing of angelic voices; and in place of the sun, enfolds within itself on every side, the Sun of justice.  And ask not how: for where God wills, the order of nature yields.  For He willed, He had the power, He descended, He redeemed; all things yielded in obedience to God.  This day He Who is, is Born; and He Who is, becomes what He was not.  For when He was God, He became man; yet not departing from the Godhead that is His.  Nor yet by any loss of divinity became He man, nor through increase became He God from man; but being the Word He became flesh, His nature, because of impassability, remaining unchanged.

And so the kings have come, and they have seen the heavenly King that has come upon the earth, not bringing with Him Angels, nor Archangels, nor Thrones, nor Dominations, nor Powers, nor Principalities, but, treading a new and solitary path, He has come forth from a spotless womb.

Since this heavenly birth cannot be described, neither does His coming amongst us in these days permit of too curious scrutiny.  Though I know that a Virgin this day gave birth, and I believe that God was begotten before all time, yet the manner of this generation I have learned to venerate in silence and I accept that this is not to be probed too curiously with wordy speech.  For with God we look not for the order of nature, but rest our faith in the power of Him who works.

What shall I say to you; what shall I tell you? I behold a Mother who has brought forth; I see a Child come to this light by birth.  The manner of His conception I cannot comprehend.

Nature here rested, while the Will of God labored. O ineffable grace!  The Only Begotten, Who is before all ages, Who cannot be touched or be perceived, Who is simple, without body, has now put on my body, that is visible and liable to corruption.  For what reason?  That coming amongst us he may teach us, and teaching, lead us by the hand to the things that men cannot see.  For since men believe that the eyes are more trustworthy than the ears, they doubt of that which they do not see, and so He has deigned to show Himself in bodily presence, that He may remove all doubt.

Christ, finding the holy body and soul of the Virgin, builds for Himself a living temple, and as He had willed, formed there a man from the Virgin; and, putting Him on, this day came forth; unashamed of the lowliness of our nature’.  For it was to Him no lowering to put on what He Himself had made.  Let that handiwork be forever glorified, which became the cloak of its own Creator.  For as in the first creation of flesh, man could not be made before the clay had come into His hand, so neither could this corruptible body be glorified, until it had first become the garment of its Maker.

What shall I say!  And how shall I describe this Birth to you?  For this wonder fills me with astonishment.  The Ancient of days has become an infant.  He Who sits upon the sublime and heavenly Throne, now lies in a manger.  And He Who cannot be touched, Who is simple, without complexity, and incorporeal, now lies subject to the hands of men.  He Who has broken the bonds of sinners, is now bound by an infants bands.  But He has decreed that ignominy shall become honor, infamy be clothed with glory, and total humiliation the measure of His Goodness.

For this He assumed my body, that I may become capable of His Word; taking my flesh, He gives me His spirit; and so He bestowing and I receiving, He prepares for me the treasure of Life.  He takes my flesh, to sanctify me; He gives me His Spirit, that He may save me.

Come, then, let us observe the Feast. Truly wondrous is the whole chronicle of the Nativity.  For this day the ancient slavery is ended, the devil confounded, the demons take to flight, the power of death is broken, paradise is unlocked, the curse is taken away, sin is removed from us, error driven out, truth has been brought back, the speech of kindliness diffused, and spreads on every side, a heavenly way of life has been ‘in planted on the earth, angels communicate with men without fear, and men now hold speech with angels.

Why is this?  Because God is now on earth, and man in heaven; on every side all things commingle. He became Flesh.  He did not become God.  He was God.  Wherefore He became flesh, so that He Whom heaven did not contain, a manger would this day receive. He was placed in a manger, so that He, by whom all things are nourished, may receive an infant’s food from His Virgin Mother.  So, the Father of all ages, as an infant at the breast, nestles in the virginal arms, that the Magi may more easily see Him.  Since this day the Magi too have come, and made a beginning of withstanding tyranny; and the heavens give glory, as the Lord is revealed by a star.

To Him, then, Who out of confusion has wrought a clear path, to Christ, to the Father, and to the Holy Ghost, we offer all praise, now and for ever.  Amen.

Part of the reason for this series is for me to clear my head and (being in a HUGE transitional period) figure out where to go from here.  I am no super saint, so it’s a good thing there is not biblical requirement for super saint status among God’s people. I say this because it’s tempting for me to come to my generalized sense of discontentedness and conclude that I really don’t measure up. But as I revisit the story of the people that God has used throughout history and even in my own life, I am finding that its not just me. ‘Measuring up’ (whatever that means, if you know please tell me) it seems isn’t as important as we are led to believe. Why is it that we so often carry around this undefined weight to ‘measure up’ in such a way that only some sort of super saint could ever meet the standard? I have become convinced that God incarnates his presence in this world in the weak, the lowly, the messy, the smelly, the ordinary, and the all too human things of this world. I guess if its put it that way, perhaps I’m still in the running. I can be ordinary, weak, lowly (though hopefully not smelly), and yes…even discontented with the best of them.

The Theological Thread

Those that know me will know that this could be just about anything since I tend to approach everything from a theological perspective. But here I am using this for some things that I am feeling discontented about but couldn’t find another place to put them. First there is the subject of the gospel. Yes, I am discontented about the gospel at least the version of the gospel we have heard since coming to Carlsbad (ok, see I probably just offended some folks). Scot McKnight in his book The King Jesus Gospel (see here) critiques the ‘soterian’ gospel which focuses on the individualist ‘plan of salvation’. It does this to the detriment of the more genuinely robust, full gospel of the Apostles and the Gospels – the gospel of the Kingdom, the King Jesus gospel. Since we moved here references to the Kingdom and to Jesus as the liberating King have been few. Mostly (especially in the area Baptist churches) its an individualist salvation gospel that gets preached concerned with ‘saving souls’.

But having spent time in Crosspoint Fellowship in Abilene and Ecclesia in Houston, both of whom focus on missionally living out of the King Jesus gospel its just rather frustrating. It needs to be said, the gospel is not about you and me. The gospel is about King Jesus and his Kingdom. I have come to believe that if you only know Jesus as personal savior, you don’t really know Jesus. Its that simple to me, really. I know that perhaps most people mean the King part to be implicit in there somewhere, but Jesus is not simply your personal Lord or King either. No, the personal savior part is true and we are included, but we are included only in the context of the Kingdom, with Jesus as the liberating King of the whole world/cosmos. If we don’t preach the gospel of the Kingdom with Jesus as the liberating King we aren’t preaching the gospel!

Second, there is the idea of male headship. Yes, this is an issue for me…mostly because we are in a very conservative area now where it seems that I don’t exercise my ‘headship’ in what is considered the ‘biblical’ way. Keep in mind that not long after we got here the movie Courageous came out. This is the ‘best’ movie to date from the producers, but unfortunately in my opinion its still yet theologically thin (in how it presents a soterian gospel as well as headship in marriage). According to the movie it seems that all our troubles will be solved if men just take up their rightful positions as the ‘leaders’ in the home and church (and society?). Where does this leave women? Well, its not explicated precisely but it’s a safe bet it leaves them as the ones who submit to male leadership. Now, I believe in headship, I just don’t think has anything to do with male ‘leadership’ or authority complimented by the unilateral submission of women and wives. I disagree with those who demand that the complimentarity of men and women requires a relational hierarchy (of men over women). I consider my view to be ‘complementarity without hierarchy’ and I would describe myself as a ‘mutualist’.

I believe 1) that Jesus is the head of the home and family, 2) that the husband is NOT the head of the family/home but instead is head of HIS wife who are ‘one flesh’ together, 3) that headship in marriage is tied to the ‘one flesh’ analogy (as in a head and a body) and is thus a metaphor for intimate communion not authority over, and 4) that the Ephesians text must be framed by Ephesians 5:21 and mutual submission (in both church and marriage). I believe that ‘male and female’ created in the imago dei are meant to be co-equal, and co-regents, and that mutual submission is the high calling of all our relationships, including marriage as an icon of the triune communion of Father, Son, and Spirit. The producers of Courageous are correct; we have a stark crisis where men are concerned. But they are wrong that the ‘biblical’ answer is for men to exercise their ‘headship’ as ‘leaders’ – unless of course they mean that men and women are to act as mutually submissive co-leaders alongside each other (which they don’t).  Those who see male headship as ‘leadership‘ and ‘authority over’ and the unilateral submission of women leave me discontented.

Third, there is the Lord’s Supper…or Communion…or the Eucharist. Why am I discontented about this? Basically because I miss being able to take Communion weekly. This was one of my favorite things about being a part of Ecclesia in Houston. Taking weekly Communion is a powerful way to be storied into the incarnational narrative of Christ each week. Despite how ‘in shape’ we may or may not be we all inhabit broken bodies. Our bodies may differ in degree, but they do not differ in kind. And it is this same flesh that Jesus took on when he became human, was bloodied, crucified, and resurrected. For those of us with broken bodies (ie, all of us) there is only sustenance from the broken flesh and blood of Christ. I have come to wonder how we can not take Communion weekly. I honestly feel like I’m starving with a once a month observance. We currently worship with FUMC here in Carlsbad – this is not meant as a slam on them. I really appreciate the blessing that my wife is accepted as an ordained woman (I’ll explain more below) but I wish we would do Communion weekly.

The Marriage Thread

The second thread contributing to my discontent surrounds my marriage. Now let me say on the front end my marriage is NOT in trouble. I love Christie (others know here as C.C.) more than my very life, and she me. So what is the discontent about? There are three main factors here. First, after our CPE/chaplaincy experience we both felt like we needed time to reclaim our marriage. The fact of the matter is that being a CPE student is a full time job…and being a chaplain is a full time job. Since we were both CPE students and chaplains, well, that was like four full time jobs (dealing with all the brokenness and suffering that the city of Houston could throw at us) in our house. Looking back I’m not sure how we did it and I would advise others against it.

Second, since we arrived in Carlsbad neither of us really feel we have been able to reclaim our marriage as we desired. Resting and recuperating has not really come to us as we have hoped. And, while grateful for their generosity and blessing, it has been difficult to figure out how to be husband and wife while living with the in laws…not much more to say here, it just has.

Finally, Christie’s recuperation from the toll everything has taken on her (especially physically) has been very, very slow. And without insurance now it is difficult to find adequate health care to help her recover. I can only say it has been rough. And it takes it toll on me. It eats at me that I have not been able to provide a way to take care of her better. This comes not from the traditional tack of the husband as ‘head and provider’ (see above on mutual submission) but because as her husband I experience ‘one flesh’ intimate communion with Christie. When she is in pain I hurt too, pure and simple. It is love that motivates me to want to ‘provide’ for her, and it eats at me that I can’t do so properly right now.

The ‘Ecclesiastical’ Thread

Both Christie and I have Southern Baptist roots…and we find ourselves back among primarily Southern Baptist turf here in New Mexico…and we find ourselves really at odds with both our roots as well as the Southern Baptists in this area. We still consider ourselves Baptist…just no longer that kind of Baptist. It won’t make sense to some but denominational identity is not that important to me, but my Baptist heritage is. I suppose that’s a way of saying my Baptist heritage transcends denominationalism – or that one can be a good Baptist and not be Southern Baptist. Given the Baptist options around here it was really not surprising that we ended up worshiping at a Methodist church. We are Baptists that happen to go to a Methodist church currently.

It can be difficult to locate oneself in the ecclesiastical wilderness. The journey is difficult and some people just give up. We were very fortunate in Texas at both Crosspoint in Abilene and Ecclesia in Houston. Both churches are grounded in a deeper sense of the gospel than the soterian option and both have a definite missional focus. Both also are not captured by the rank traditionalism that marks so many churches. Its odd that those who are the biggest ‘traditionalists’ know next to nothing about the wider church tradition (or even Baptist heritage for that matter). Given my penchant for being a non-traditionalist many are surprised I advocate a recovery of the wider church tradition (and yes, even Baptist heritage). I’m a ‘catholic’ Baptist if you will. The problem is not tradition per se, but stale, dead, cold traditionalism. In fact, I believe that recovering a greater sense of the wider church tradition will help us recover our story and be an antidote to traditionalism (which is ironically usually very recent).

But back to the matter at hand, at both Crosspoint and Ecclesia my wife was fully accepted as an ordained ‘woman in ministry’ (in fact Crosspoint ordained us both in a joint ceremony). It is here that in Texas we were also fortunate to have the support of the Baptist General Convention of Texas (BGCT), of which both Crosspoint and Ecclesia are affiliated. The BGCT is supportive of women in ministry and works to provide an environment in which they can thrive (which can be tough, especially in more traditionalist churches). In the strictly Southern Baptist world (which dominates New Mexico unfortunately) this is not the case. We have even had a couple of Southern Baptist churches threaten church discipline in the past if we were to ever join them. Yikes!

At this point in our journey it is apparent that, while we are perhaps Baptist and embrace our Baptist roots, we do not consider ourselves Southern Baptist any more and for multiple reasons do not feel at home in a Southern Baptist church. So, we are part of a Methodist church, which (while it has its own traditionalism, and while its ‘contemporary’ worship is more Hillsong than David Crowder or Robbie Seay) is where we are a better fit and where I know my wife will not be questioned or looked down upon because she is ordained. We so long to be back with our fellow Texas Baptists though and back with our Crosspoint family.

The Vocation/Calling Thread

One thing I have never been concerned about is my resume. I sometimes think that I’ve made a mistake here – especially when I go to apply for a job. My resume often feels like a catalog of failures. But I have tried to focus on following the best discernment Christie and I had for what God was calling us to do. This is why we left Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in 2000 to start a church in Plainview, TX. It ultimately didn’t go well for us. What is for certain is that when we left SWBTS for Plainview I chose a path of ministry outside the traditional church system. I have felt called to people, contexts, and a missional expression of the faith largely outside of the traditional structures. This has meant that I have worked a variety of (so-called) ‘secular’ jobs and (as one person put) did church stuff ‘on the side’ (though I don’t like this language).

I have a great deal of pastoral experience but almost all of it is non-traditional (such as working in children’s homes, church planting, small group leadership, and even hospital chaplaincy) and my ecclesial experience is almost all non-paid (which always caused me to question if I should have ever really considered myself bi-vocational). After our time as hospital chaplains we now find ourselves in transition period, in sort of a limbo. This is pretty much a feeling I’ve felt in some way since we left Plainview all those years ago. Though I feel I was able to incarnate God’s presence in some very tragic circumstances, chaplaincy never really clicked for me. It too felt very limbo-ish. The place that I have not felt this limbo type feeling is Abilene. Abilene just feels like home.

Currently I work for a mental health company as a ‘Community Support Worker’ (a kind of unlicensed social worker) and with their group psycho-social rehab program. This job has been a great blessing for us and I have been able to use some of my pastoral training in my work. But it has still been difficult to go to work every morning. There is the lack of effective training for what they expect me to do and certain administrative issues that contribute to this. And there is the fact that much of my (postmodern) theological formation is at odds with the (modernist) therapeutic psychology of a mental health organization (something that put me at odds with much of my CPE experience interestingly enough also). As a theologian with a pastor’s shape I feel quite often that I am a square peg trying to fit in a round hole. Where I’m at currently, I honestly feel like a parody of what I’m called to be.

It has taken me too long to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. There are two major ways that I am shaped – as a theologian and as a pastor – both of which has been confirmed by other Christians in community at various times. And its these two things that I feel called too in the deepest parts of my being – pastoring in some capacity and being a theologian, things that in my opinion should never be separated in the first place. I would like to get a PhD and teach theology (despite the buzz going around that doing a PhD is not the thing to do right now) but the thought of moving someplace far off for a PhD isn’t appealing to me. No, I’d rather us move back to Abilene, reconnect with Crosspoint and HSU/Logsdon Seminary, and enroll in a distance PhD program like the University of Durham. How are we going to make this work? We have some irons in the fire, but at this point I really have no idea.

The ‘Exile’ Thread

I saved this thread for last on purpose. I’ll be brief here as this one will set the stage for the next post, so I’ll say more there. As the name implies, the cumulative total of everything I’m experiencing right now means that I feel very much like I am in exile. Living with the in-laws, working a job where I don’t really fit, separated from our home, etc, etc …the only way I can describe the way it feels is exile.

E.W. Said put it like this,

“Exile is strangely compelling to think about but terrible to experience. It is the unhealable rift forced between a human being and a native place, between the self and its true home: its essential sadness can never be surmounted. And while it is true that literature and history contain heroic, romantic, glorious, and even triumphic episodes in an exile’s life, these are no more than efforts meant to overcome the crippling sorrow of estrangement. The achievements of exile are permanently undermined by the loss of something left behind forever.”

Yes, I know its Christmas Eve and I’m really not trying to be a downer. The Christmas Gospel of the Kingdom is big enough for whatever we bring to the table. Pretending doesn’t do any good. We might as well be honest about it. And this season the word exile remains very descriptive of what I’m feeling. Though I have a very good roof over my head, and am grateful for all the ways that God has provided for us, and am thankful for those through whom God has provided, in many ways (but not all) I feel homeless. But this just means that Advent and Christmas are all the more theologically significant for me this year, because the coming (again) of Christ is the end of exile. This is reason for rejoicing, Kingdom type rejoicing, even in exile!!! I’ll pick up with this theme of exile again in part three. For now thanks for reading and your prayers are coveted and appreciated.

Christmas blessings to all!

It may seem strange to some to refer to Black Friday as part of a ‘cultural liturgy’, but James K.A. Smith in Desiring the Kingdom (rightly I think) advocates such a designation in order to “unveil the character of what presents itself as benign” and to even “recognize the charged, religious nature of cultural institutions [ie, the mall] that we all intend to inhabit as if they were neutral sites.” But as Smith contends, the mall is not a neutral site and it does indeed have its own liturgy, its own formative pedagogy of desire, its own form of worship that shapes what we love and forms us into particular kinds of persons who desire a certain kind of kingdom.

“The mall is a religious institution because it is a liturgical institution, and it is a pedagogical institution because it is a formative institution.” (Smith, 22-24, 54-55)

The Saturday after Black Friday I have come to think of as ‘Sandwich Saturday’, as it falls between Black Friday and the first Sunday of Advent. ‘Sandwich Saturday’ for me is filled with an eschatological tension of sorts between two ways of marking time, between two kingdoms if you will. The kingdom represented by Black Friday marks time with the narrative of consumerism and what we might call the ‘Hallmark Holy-days’ (Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, July 4th, Labor Day, Memorial Day, New Years), which create a distinctly American liturgy which feeds the narrative of consumerism. It is here that a co-opted Christmas day comes to basically serve as the bookend opposite to Black Friday in the quasi-holy observance of the ‘Holiday Sopping Season’.

During this time of year I have a confession to make: I really don’t care if store clerks tell me ‘Merry Christmas’ or ‘Happy Holidays’. The so called ‘War on Christmas’ is really about the dissipation of Christendom and ‘cultural Christianity’ which are just as much co-optings of Christmas as American consumerism, and indeed, are most often wed tightly to the consumeristic narrative. Christians who insist that store clerks should say ‘Merry Christmas’ all the while ringing up the latest stack of presents on an already maxed out credit card are seriously missing the irony. In my opinion for stores to say ‘Happy Holidays’ is the most appropriate thing because it brings to the light exactly what the ‘Holiday Shopping Season’ is,  the staple of the American liturgical year – narrating us into the civil religion of consumerism, with the marketers serving as our chief priests, and retail stores and mall our cathedrals.

The season of Advent marks the beginning of the church year and specifically marks time with the narrative of Christ. Smith offers some instructive words to help us understand how Advent and the Christian liturgical year help us to mark time differently. He says,

“the Christian observation of Advent marks a different orientation to time, particularly when it is recognized that Advent is a penitential season of denial and self-examination rather than accumulation, consumption, and self-indulgence. The distinct marking of time that is integral to historic Christian worship establishes a sense that the church is a ‘peculiar people,’ and the liturgical calendar already constitutes a formative matrix that functions as a counter-formation to the incessant 24/7-ness of our frenetic commercial culture.” (156-57)

And he continues,

“During Advent each year, the Christian year teaches us to once again become Israel, recognizing our sin and need, that waiting, longing, hoping, calling, praying for the coming of the Messiah, the advent of justice, and the inbreaking of shalom. We go through the ritual of desiring the kingdom – a kind of holy impatience – by reenacting Israel’s longing for the coming of the King. We are called to be a people of expectancy – looking for the coming (again) of the Messiah.” (157-58)

And he finally concludes,

“We are called to be a people of memory…citizens of a kingdom that is both older and newer than anything offered by ‘the contemporary.’ The practices of Christian worship over the liturgical year form in us something of an ‘old soul’ that is perpetually pointed to a future, longing for a coming kingdom, and seeking to be such a stretched people in the present who are a foretaste of the coming kingdom.” (159, bold mine)

An ecclesia of people who are a ‘foretaste of the kingdom’ – this is what we are to be. My suggestion here is that the best way to go about being this sort of people (well, at least a first step) is not to take part in the civil religious culture war over ‘Happy Holidays’ vs ‘Merry Christmas’ but to adopt a counter liturgy and counter story to the ‘Holiday Shopping Season’ in the form of the ancient Christian observance of Advent – both individually and ecclesially/communally.  With Smith we can say that this counter liturgy and counter story of Advent and the church year shapes our desire, and our love, for an alternative Kingdom to the kingdom of the god of American consumerism.

At this point I have another confession to make: it frustrates me that it seems that everywhere I look there is a failure to make the Advent/Kingdom link that is essential. The missing piece in most Advent observances that I see (just as with the huge missing aspect in how we talk about the gospel) is the Kingdom piece. The stories surrounding the birth of Christ in the Gospels all have to do with the clash of kingdoms and the subversion of all earthly kingdoms. Advent is a recapitulation in liturgical form and celebration of the coming of, not merely a personal savior (I have become convinced that if you only know Jesus as personal savior you don’t really know Jesus!), but of the liberating King Jesus as a baby in the incarnation.

The four weeks of Advent traditionally focus on four themes with corresponding candles that lead up to the Christ candle. In the church we attend, the themes for this year are: Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love (this is basically traditional but there can be variation. The Mosaic Bible uses Longing, Hope, Anticipation, and Preparation for its themes). My point here is that (it seems) most folks make these themes almost purely existential, that is, something they experience or feel on the inside as an individual. But, without denigrating the importance of feelings,  I want to suggest that these themes are ecclesial and communal more than they are individual and that they correspond most specifically to the Kingdom. The Kingdom of hope, peace, joy, and love that comes with liberating King Jesus is about so much more than existential goosebumps – not just the hope inside me somewhere, but Kingdom hope for the world; not just the peace I feel, but Kingdom peace for the world; not just the joy I experience inwardly, but Kingdom joy for the world; not just the love I have for myself, but Kingdom love for the world.

The season of waiting and preparation of Advent is a season of forming ourselves and our desires, our loves, into Kingdom people who desire the Kingdom and the liberating King Jesus above all things. Advent is about more than what we feel, it is about the Kingdom and King we love and serve.

Therefore I think the questions before us are thus:

Whose story do we tell?

Which liturgy shall form us?

The story and liturgy of the American cult of consumerism…

The story and liturgy of Christendom and ‘cultural Christianity’…

…or the story of Christ and the counter liturgy of the church year?

What Kingdom will we desire?

The consumerist kingdom and civil religion of Western/American capitalism…

The kingdom of Western Christendom and American civil religion…

…or the true Kingdom of our liberating King Jesus.

Whose story? Which liturgy? What Kingdom?

Our answers to these questions will determine the kind of people we are, the people whose we are, and what it is that we love.

While you’re here check out the latest Advent Conspiracy video from Chris Seay of Ecclesia in Houston, who echoes James K.A. Smith’s point about liturgy and formation well when he says, “Is the system we’ve invested our lives in, is it corrupt? Are these the people God made us to be?” [Worship Fully, Spend Less, Give More, Love All]

Advent Conspiracy – Black Friday

[AC] Black Friday from Advent Conspiracy on Vimeo.

Advent Conspiracy – Enter the Story 2011 [also check out Living Water International]

I will be sharing some rather raw feelings over the next couple posts. My worry is that as I share it may seem that I, or that Christie and I, are ungrateful for what God has provided for us… and/or perhaps ungrateful for the hospitality that has been provided for us (for instance by my in laws)… and/or somehow ungrateful for the church community where we have landed here in Carlsbad… and/or totally down on the church tradition that we grew up in and the prevalent ecclesial expressions available here in Carlsbad. The fact is that none of this is actually true. We actually are very thankful for God’s provision, grateful for the hospitality of my in-laws (Christie’s parents), blessed by the church community where we have thus far landed, and (while we have some pronounced tensions with the church tradition we come from and the predominant expressions of such that one finds here in New Mexico) we value our roots even if we are in a somewhat different place.

It’s possible to be thankful and grateful for something and still yet be at odds, come from a different perspective, or exist in a rather pronounced tension with that something. Too often I’ve seen that when someone wants to voice their struggles concerning whatever this something is, there is a great potential of misunderstanding on the part of others. And often, with the misunderstanding come accusations of ungratefulness or even worse unfaithfulness. Sadly, I have done this to others myself and had this done to me. More often than not though, I think this sort of thing is the result of not only deep convictions being impinged upon (or at least it seems this way at the time) but also at a deeper level I think…just plain ole’ hurt feelings.

I have done and said things out of hurt feelings that I have had to repent of later (thankfully my wife is forgiving!). I’m sure everyone reading this has at some point or another experienced this also. You have had to forgive and be forgiven…and this you have had to do seventy times seven, have you not? This is why one of the most important lessons we can learn is to listen and meet folks where they are in their real and raw experiences with God first, before we snap to judgments and act out of hurt feelings. I am going to suggest that this goes for those just now meeting God, perhaps in anguishing circumstances, as well as for those who we expect to not to struggle because they are a pastor, ordained, have certain degrees on their wall, and are otherwise supposed to be ‘closer’ to God than other mere mortals. But the simple fact is this: even those who we expect not to struggle do in fact struggle and experience anguishing circumstances and even experience God in these anguishing circumstances. In such times (and this is what I am asking for here) what we need to do first is listen.

The reason for a ‘disclaimer’ of this sort is that I realize (as I’ve said already) that some of what I say (especially in the second post) will be subject to misunderstanding and even hurt feelings. Various persons may even think to themselves, ‘Its Thanksgiving this week dude! Shouldn’t you be, well, thankful?’ (On this please see the first paragraph again.) But also, some of what I say will be a critique of certain things and meant as such, and some will in fact understand what I am saying and strongly disagree. From my side that’s ok. I don’t mind it when others disagree with me. As far as I’m concerned I still want to share community with you over a nice cold Dr. Pepper and hear what God is doing in your life. If you are honest, no matter how ‘spiritually mature’ you are, sharing with another about how God is (or isn’t?) active in your life will involve sharing some raw places and significant pain. Being honest about these raw, painful places does not mean one does not appreciate what God provides or that one is not grateful to others. These realities do not cancel out or mitigate the others. It simply means that we inhabit often unrealized or perhaps flatly ignored irreducible tensions in life.

In fact, I have come to think that the more mature in Christ we really are the more in tune we will be with the raw and painful places in life. We’ll end up feeling this irreducible tension even more as we seek to enter into the sufferings of Christ in the world. Sharing in these experiences of community is actually a sacrament of triune grace. The God who is none other than the communion of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit inhabits the raw and painful places of life. We learn this much from the incarnation of our liberating King Jesus. If we hope to have communion with our Lord Jesus, if we hope to have communion with each other ‘in Christ’ then we must inhabit the raw, painful places of life together.

To inhabit these places means to listen to the other continually. There is no other way! As I share, just know it’s not my aim to simply whine and gripe. And as I seek to lay myself existentially bare know that my theological method really isn’t dominated by some sort of pure feeling centered romantic existentialism (actually, Paul Tillich, regarded by many as the foremost existential theologian, is not a favorite of mine – I truck more with hermeneutical and narrative theology over existential theology but many probably fell asleep just by reading this parenthesis, so I’ll move on).  I don’t think the world revolves around me and I realize that my feelings aren’t the sum and definition of reality. I have faith that God will provide for us. But I also believe that the mutual sharing of our doubts, fears, and the basic ‘raw-ness’ of life a part of the journey of faith. Yes, you read that correctly. I said this is a part of faith. In a very real way faith presupposes doubt, the state of not knowing, fear, and the raw-ness of life. The question is…will we..will I…will you…truly listen?

Those that know Christie and I, or have read past posts, know that we have seen our fair share of struggle. Most recently this summer, after two years in Houston as hospital chaplains, we wondered where we would end up next. I fired off a couple of posts about our experience (these were written in a kind of a stream of consciousness mode. In the interest of the reader I’m trying not to do that this time). We ended up in Carlsbad, NM living with Christie’s parents. I currently work for a mental health organization as a ‘Community Support Worker’ (aka, case manger). It has been very difficult but God has provided a church, First United Methodist (yes, I said Methodist, and yes, we are Baptist…I’ll explain later), and a small group, which has thus far responded well to our particular style of messy faith. We have been able to go back to homeschooling our Damaris, and after a rocky start it looks like we have found some medical care for Christie (which is difficult since we don’t have insurance). In all these areas there has been divine provision and blessing. We believe that! But there has also been great struggle and much raw-ness. For me personally…I have been laid bare and in a very real way stripped naked. I feel exposed and broken and at times I wonder where God is at. I feel incompetent and impotent at the most basic of levels. I feel at the most basic of levels like a failure.

I wonder how well I’ve run the race…

I can’t seem to find a space where I fit…

I feel an acute sense of being out of place…

These three statements do a good job of summing up where I find myself presently. There are five threads that make up the tapestry of discontent that seems to be my ever present companion – that make up what seems to be the latest experience of the dark night of the soul for me. I will get to these threads in the next post (until then you will just have to deal with the mystery). Before going though, I want to say that I value any comments you may want to leave here on the blog (or on facebook if that’s where you are reading this). However, I also want to institute what we might call a ‘no clichés’ rule. Again I anticipate that there may be some negative reaction to something like this, or maybe without clichés some may simply be left with nothing to say (which is not always a bad thing by the way).

Despite feeling a bit risky, I feel a no cliché rule is important (and not just for a blog but for life in general). Why? It’s because clichés are built with a kernel of truth, yet they domesticate this truth and keep things on a surface level. Clichés keep us from entering into what we might call the ‘deep experiences’ (I’m coining a term here) of others or even ourselves. Very often (if we are honest) we wield clichés specifically so we don’t have to enter into either our own ‘deep experience’ or those of others. We are far to often to busy, to lazy, or the ‘deep experience’ is too uncomfortable – the cliché (however well meaning) serves as a buffer, perhaps even a protection of sorts, but regardless clichés are almost always a way of not getting too close. Perhaps most tragically, clichés ensure we don’t really have to give the grace of listening. Clichés help us keep our distance and even when not intended that way, they serve to distance us anyways.

Here’s an example: a friend of yours who is a single mom with three kids shows up at your door with an eviction notice that says she has to be out in a week. She tells you that the only other place to live in town she can even come close to affording has a 6 month waiting list. In a week she and her kids will be homeless…what do you do, what do you say? Too often Christians have resorted to clichés like, “God’s in control. We’ll just pray about it and God will fix this situation for you.” What a travesty when we make prayer, a matter of deep communion with the triune God, into a cliché. The issue here is not whether God is in control or who believes that God is in control. Indeed, your friend here may have prayed already and God sent her to YOUR doorstep! What is missed at the surface level of cliché is that there is a ‘deep experience’ of suffering to be entered into, and that by entering into the experience of suffering of others we enter into the sufferings of Christ.

By participating in (literally having koinonia with) the sufferings for Christ, we have deep communion with Christ and his body, and from this communion we are sent out as the hands and feet of Christ as living sacraments. But first we have to incarnate ourselves into the ‘deep experiences’ of others – this is what lament and celebration is all about. We are to ‘rejoice with those rejoicing and mourn with those mourning’, which is not possible at the surface level of clichés. And this is all potentially very messy. Well, not potentially really…it WILL be messy. But that’s life!!! The ‘deep experiences’ of life – messy and all too human as they can be – do not require clichés but the deep, triune grace and shalom experienced in communion with God and others. May our liberating King Jesus be with all of us and may we learn to listen well.

Next post in a couple days…