On journal Keeping

Eugene Peterson introduced me to the spiritual discipline of journal keeping. Actually it was Eugene Peterson who introduced me to most of the spiritual disciplines I've ever practiced. Not that I hadn't heard of spiritual disciplines, of course. Most of us have heard of many, many things we've never tried. But there's a huge difference between hearing about something and seriously practicing, as we all know, only to well. But Peterson actually made me go beyond hearing about journal keeping to actually practicing.

At first it seemed a complete waste of time. Daily writing (uhhh, notice the word "daily"!!). I saw no benefit. I felt no benefit. As far as I could tell, I reaped no benefit. It seemed nothing more than a tedious waste of time.

One day, a little more than six months into the practice, six months of tedious, time-wasting, daily journal keeping, I was pretty frustrated with the assignment. As a means of procrastinating, to avoid actually writing, I started at the beginning and read my daily entries for six months.

It blew me away. When reading them as a whole, all at once, I could see what was happening. From the perspective of overview, I saw things I couldn't see from the perspective of daily: I saw trends. Patterns. Growth. Progress. I was stunned. I was growing, partly as a result of the intentional practice, even when I hadn't noticed that I was growing.

Fast forward: Years later. My youngest daughter Liz keeps an online journal, which I read regularly. I love to see what she's reflecting on. I love listening in on her growth. And I am amazed. I hope to be like her when I grown up. Just see what she wrote today:

i've been talking about wealth alot lately. that's a dangerous thing to do when one is idealistic and has no dollars and is trying to avoid buying a cell phone and needs lunch and has so so so so much and is busy and just got a job at a restaurant in plain view of the state capitol and wrestles daily with such things as music piracy and steal-from-rich-to-give-to-poor tendencies.

i'm in a ridiculous place in my life. i've chosen to live in this intentional community that values simplicity and intentionality and grace and generosity, and we're situated on the most valuable plot of real estate i'm likely ever to inhabit. (by the way, you're all invited to visit and drink tea and play trivial pursuit. you'll win, i promise.)

i'm not sure how to go about reconciling the concepts of hospitality and radical thought. i just get a little dizzy with all this dichotomous thinking. as in, how do i have an honest conversation about myself and my politik with Moneybags without coming across as pretentious, impetuous and generally affronting? like follows:

Moneybags: i am brimming with cash.
liz: buy me dinner. also, i hate wealth. you suck.
Moneybags: i am brimming with cash. and i hate you.

in essence, i'm not satisfied with anything close to the status quo. and, i'm wrapped up in a neurotic ball of self-consciousness and extroversion. i know the world isn't done cooking. and i know that i'm not done cooking. and i don't know how to interact with such a nebulous thing being such a nebulous girl. i'm broke and rich, and i don't know how to ease out of the role of liason between Moneybags and Bum, because that is neither a healthy nor helpful place to be.

i don't know how it'll all end up, but i don't know whether i should be hoping to change the world or to make the world breathe deeply and smile. i'd like it to be both.

The Lord be with you,

Worth the Price of Admission

When my mother waxed eloquent about
Walk the Line, I rented the video -- and greatly enjoyed it.

The opening, at Folsom Prison during a break in Johnny Cash's famous live concert, draws one immediately into the darkness of a painful life. Clearly there are demons here. Once alerting us to the direction to be explored, the film fades into flashback to begin the story.

If one's image of Cash is only the late-in-life Cash touring with Billy Graham, one would not be prepared for the Folsom Prison concert. But after taking the journey, we return to the scene at Folsom, near the end of the film, now prepared for what will happen next, and we are one with the prison audience. It's powerful, exciting, and moving.

But this is icing on the cake. The price of admission was earned in the immediately preceding scene. While Cash is reinventing himself, following his disasterous and painful plunge into the prodigal's pigsty, he identifies with prisoners -- those who ruined their lives through stupid decisions. He has compassion for them, for he sees himself in them. And he approaches his producers with the idea for a concert at Folsom, and recording the concert live.

His producers are aghast.

One argues that he would lose his audience:

Producer:

"Your fans are church folks, Johnny.
Christians.

They don't want to hear you singing to
a bunch of murderers and rapists...
trying to cheer them up."

Johnny Cash:

"Well, they're not Christians then."

I'm not sure it ever struck me as clearly as that before. This strange, odd God, who would rather cheer up murderers and rapists than to enforce karma. Righteousness and Justice in the Kingdom of God is certainly not what we ever dreamed or expected it be.

But it sure is what we need it to be.

The Lord be with you,

Just one of the Reasons why God wants Babies in Church

Part way through the 9 am worship service I hear static coming from the speaker over on the starboard side of the nave. (That's the right side if you're sitting in a pew in the main section. And don't give me any grief for saying "starboard." It's a NAVE for crying out loud.) krritchhhh krritchhhhhhhhh

So I glance over toward the speaker and listen carefully, and yes, there it is again: static. Not constant. Just intermittent. krritchhhh krritchhhhhhhhh ... silence ... silence ... krritchhhh krritchhhhhhhhh

After about the 6th time I hear it, I casually walk over to the lecturn and turn off the microphone.

A few minutes later the static happens again. krritchhhh krritchhhhhhhhh

So I turn off MY microphone, and talk louder.

A few minutes later the static happens again. krritchhhh krritchhhhhhhhh

I shake my head in frustration, turn to the Deacon, and say, "Would you please turn off your mic?" She does.

A few minutes later the static happens again. krritchhhh krritchhhhhhhhh

I say to the congregation, "I'm SOOOO sorry. That's it, I'm turning off the whole system." Members of the congregation glance at each other as though I'm crazy. I walk into the sacristry to shut down the whole system. I return, and say, "Well, if I hear it now, I'm going to really worried."

Somebody says, "We're already worried, because we don't know what you're talking about."

I say, "You haven't heard the static?"

People say, "No... we're all wondering what YOU are hearing... and if you're ok."

I say, "Really??"

And then as I'm walking up to the communion table to prepare for communion, I hear it again: krritchhhh krritchhhhhhhhh

The Deacon whispers in my ear, "It's a baby rattle in the 3rd pew."

The Lord be with you,

NT Wright: Simply Christian

My good friend Tim Stevenson (if you're ever in the Dallas area, you really must go hear him preach) tried repeadtedly but unsuccessfully some years ago to get me to start reading N.T. Wright. I resisted, for after all, my "must read immediately" book list already exceeds my life expectancy. So I added Wright to my "I really should read this if I get a chance" book list -- which is the same as "I'll never read this in my whole life" book list.

So what tricky Tim did was to set several of Wright's books on the night stand next to the guest bed when I visited him a few years ago. What a dastardly deed. Naturally, by the end of the visit, I couldn't resist ordering several of Wright's volumes.

Not everybody like's reading Wright. He doesn't defend any established views, but rather digs for the truth, regardless of where it lies. He is not a fan of modern or post-modern sensibilities, but freely uncovers and criticizes the untested presumptions of cultural assumptions. Although he explains the complex, he is faithful to the complexity rather than oversimplying what cannot be simplified. He is consistent. And he isn't willing to refrain from a conclusion because it isn't popular. I don't know if he ever watched the X-Files, but he clearly believes "the truth is out there," and relentlessly digs to uncover it.

Frankly, I love his stuff -- and have never found another writer who so frequently and consistently changes my mind about my former conclusions.

Last week a group of us from St Marks drove down to the National Cathedral to hear N.T. Wright speak. Actually, the talk was part of a book tour set up by the publisher of Simply Christian, and he basically summarized that book.

The talk was fascinating and lively. Wright is a much better speaker than he is a writer. Happily, the National Cathedral video-taped the talk, and you can listen to it online. To see and hear Wright's talk, click here

The Lord be with you,

Emergent... a year later

A year ago I left for a 3 month sabbatical to explore "the Emergent Church." I read a pile of books and articles, participated in several seminars, and conversed with dozens of people. All of this was great fun. Even more fun was the opportunity to travel around the country to visit self-described emergent congregations, participate in worship with them, and interview other participants (click here. Apart from indulging my addiction to learning new things, all of this was very stimulating, inspiring, and encouraging. I am very grateful to the congregation I serve, St Marks, for giving me this time for exploration.

Now that this has settled and steeped, one year later, what's the main thing I've learned? I wrote the following during my study time, and a year later, I think it may be the more important conclusion:

I think the question at hand is not about "postmodern Christianity." Christianity should not be considered ancient, medieval, modern, or postmodern. God became human and spoke with a Galilean accent, ate Galilean cooking, sang Galilean songs, danced Galilean dances, and laughed at Galilean jokes.

The incarnation was within a particular historical and cultural context. But never have I thought that to "become like Christ" was to become Galilean. So I think it is with the Church and culture. The medieval Church would live and serve within a medieval world, clothed in medieval clothing and speaking with a medieval accent. Particularization requires contextualization. But to lose its medievalness when it modernized was not intrinsically a loss of anything eternal or essential.

Always we wrestle with what is essential and what is coincidental. Always we will live and move within a culture, but it is in God that we live and move and have our being. It is not readily apparent which is which. So the question is not about how Christianity will become postmodern or resist postmodernism, but rather about how Christianity will best flourish and minister within the postmodern world.

The Lord be with you,

What if saving the church is a self-defeating mission?

While looking for Maclaren's piece on Dan Brown for Sojourners, I came across the following -- which I think is much more interesting and helpful:

I often hear someone say, "We're exploring new ways of doing church." Or "We're seeking church renewal." Or even "We're developing a postmodern church service. It's very cool. We're very innovative." In all these ways, my colleagues and I, for all our good intentions, show that we may not be likely to succeed.

These efforts overlook one small detail. Whatever we change (style of music, style of preaching, use of art, candles, incense, etc.), we're not changing the thing that needs changing most.

To read the entire article, click here

The Lord be with you,

Maclaren on Dan Brown

As usual, Brian Maclaren takes a different tack on The da Vinci Code, and wrote a thoughtful and interesting piece for Sojourners:

I would like to see churches teach their people how to have intelligent dialogue that doesn't degenerate into argument. We have to teach people that the Holy Spirit works in the middle of conversation. We see it time and time again - Jesus enters into dialogue with people; Paul and Peter and the apostles enter into dialogue with people. We tend to think that the Holy Spirit can only work in the middle of a monologue where we are doing the speaking.

So if our churches can encourage people to, if you see someone reading the book or you know someone who's gone to the movie, say, "What do you think about Jesus and what do you think about this or that," and to ask questions instead of getting into arguments, that would be wonderful. The more we can keep conversations open and going the more chances we give the Holy Spirit to work. But too often people want to get into an argument right away. And, you know, Jesus has handled 2,000 years of questions, skepticism, and attacks, and he's gonna come through just fine.

To read the article, click here.