Love Really Wins.

God is...

2011-01-26T15:02:00.000-08:00

In my desperate (and sometimes genuine) search for God, I usually end up creating maps that leads to God. What makes me believe there actually is a God, incidentally, is that I eventually realize that my map has become my God. Unfortunately, this never happens before I’ve spent lots of energy defending my map and fighting for it, all the while pointing out how faulty and inaccurate another’s map might be.

Jesus wasn’t as bold when trying to describe God. With a smile, and maybe a frustrated sense of the inadequate nature of words, he would launch into a story that began with words like this: “The Kingdom of God is like…”

So what is God?

God is my three boys who drop whatever they’re doing the moment they hear the garage door opening, which is the clarion call that announces their daddy is home. They rush at me, arms outstretched, screaming my name, enveloping me with little boy smiles and hugs and squeals.

God is the wave that knocked me down as a child, utterly overpowering me and upending me to the sandy ocean floor, sputtering and choking and completely undone.

God is the foggy morning where I can’t see five feet in front of me.

God is the drip-drip-drip of a spring morning.

God is the familiar lump in my throat that accompanies a particularly well-written scene in my favorite novel.

God is the first delicious morsel of real food after having the flu for a week.

God is the dark before the dawn.

God is the dawn.

God is.

Our Old House.

2010-12-07T08:51:00.000-08:00

We used to live in the city. Well, not in the city exactly, but in an inner, inner, inner ring suburb. Not even a suburb really; it was a cool, diverse neighborhood that was three blocks away from the city. It was “I-don’t-have-to-worry-about-sending-my-kids-to-crappy-schools-but-I-can-still-walk-to-the-bakery” cool. The lynchpin was that we had an alley garage. According to the rules, you get an automatic, no questions asked pass to say that you live in the city, if you have to walk outside to get from your garage to your house. Free standing garage? You’re urban.

Our house was vibey and old, which we loved. In the winter, if you stood close enough to any of the windows, you would feel yourself being sucked outside, along with the rest of the warm air that our furnace faithfully produced like a first-born child who just wants to get it right. In a summer thunderstorm, those windows rattled so violently that it actually frightened me, more than once. There was a basement that we referred to it as the dungeon. No matter what the temperature was in the rest of the house, it was always 47 degrees in the basement. Judging by the number of cobwebs that sprung up in every corner and crevice, no matter how often we knocked them down, you’d think it was where older, experienced spiders taught fledgling spiders their craft.

Part of its vibe was that it smelled like your grandma. I don’t mean it smelled like apple pies and cinnamon. It was more like that friend with slightly bad breath, but you never say anything because you like him too much and it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. It’s just part of him. But it’s not like you don’t notice.

We had crazy neighbors. On our first night in the house, one of them came over, clad in overalls and a bike helmet, to ask us if we knew that our house was, in fact, haunted. An elderly woman named Rose, who was well into her eighties, made inappropriate and repeatedly suggestive comments about my body. There was a stay-at-home dad who scowled at me every single time I passed his house, no matter how much I tried to earn his approval. But we had nice neighbors, too. One couple didn’t even care when, after showing us their great-grandmother’s handmade quilt, our six-month old son promptly sprayed it with projectile vomit.

And then there was the shrub in the back yard. I still don’t know what it began as, but when we lived there, it resembled thinning hair that has been allowed to grow too long. And it grew faster than that itchy spot on your back. Down a little! Now up a little. Up a little. UP a little! That shrub was your dad’s bad comb-over. Super embarrassing, it won’t go away on its own, and you don’t quite know what to say about it.

But man, we loved that house. When you walked into it, it was like being hugged by your favorite aunt, the one who knew to call you Steve instead of Stevie before anyone else did. At the end of a hard day, walking the stairs up to our bedroom, every creak and groan from those steps seemed to whisper, “Me, too.” And there was a tulip that came up in the front yard every spring, only for a week or two. That tulip was hope incarnate.

I want to be that kind of house. I want to embrace all of the embarrassing, hilarious, and inadequate parts of me, instead of constantly dreaming of the remodel. I want to be at peace with my old, drafty windows, my creaky floors, and my cobwebs.

I just don't want to have to walk outside from my garage to my house.

A different Kind of Tornado.

2009-08-23T21:24:00.000-07:00

Swirling, twisting, snarling

It destroyed more than steeples.
This tornado blew in

and

with words not wind
dismantled hope and any pretense of unity.

Shards of it lay on the ground
miles away.

And while we're fighting about

what
who
where
why

a four year old hunkers down for the night with

no bed
no food
no hope.

Please stop with your word tornadoes.

Church Lawn Signs

2008-07-28T14:07:00.001-07:00

Have you ever driven by one of those cheesy church lawn sign only to shake your head in disgust, wondering just what the hell that particular church was thinking? It's usually some try-to-be-clever-but-fail-on-every-front statement designed to...well, I'm not sure what they're designed to do.

"Come in and pray today. Beat the Christmas Rush!"
"How will you spend eternity? Smoking or non smoking?"

I recently read an article from someone who thought that there were at least five purposes for these signs:
1. To advertise upcoming events;
2. To create employment for those who design and build signs;
3. To display how pithy and clever the minster is;
4. To lecture and berate the unfaithful;
5. To somehow motivate the passerby to come in.

The author of this article thought that purpose #5 was viable. But then, he had a vision. Suppose he was in a particularly crusty, cynical mood, and he walked by a beautiful limestone church, with this message on their lawn sign:

"Do you feel fucked up?"

That's it.

This particular author felt like that would be a message that might draw him in. Would you go into a church like that?

I absolutely, positively, would.

The Beauty of Spit

2008-07-22T12:06:00.001-07:00

So I'm a pastor. One that preaches pretty often. But I get to sort of tag-team with a friend of mine who has done it a lot longer than I have and who is a lot better than I am. He does a few weeks, then I do a week or two. In between weekends, we talk and laugh and smoke cigars. Even in the winter. And this is my job.

Last weekend, right before he went up to speak, I looked down at his folio -- you know, the folder that speakers put their talk in. It's old and black, and on the inside, it's literally covered with spit. He sucks on these little cough drops -- he would remind you that they're sugar free because he's conscious about stuff like that -- which, when mixed with his spit, form this sticky substance that now covers the inside of his folio. It's hilarious.

The bible that he preaches from is the same way. Sometimes he can't even turn the pages because they're stuck together from the spitting. It's actually really gross.

My folio is brand new; Mary got it for me for father's day. I wanted one because I noticed how cool my friend's is. Mine has no spit inside of it. In fact, I haven't even preached from it yet.

So back to last weekend. I looked at his; then I looked at mine. His is old and weathered. And did I mention how much spit there is? It's a minefield of spit. Mine is new and there isn't any spit. Not a drop to behold.

You know what I am looking forward to? That day, years from now, when I look down at my old, used, spit filled folio and see it sitting next to a brand new one, owned by a friend who I love as much as my friend loves me.

Because that is more important than anything that will ever be held inside anyone's folio.

Hope vs. Cynicism

2008-07-13T19:35:00.001-07:00

The coffee had hardly been poured when my new friend leveled me: "The great challenge in life is to live with hope and not cynicism." I barely had time to choke down my magnificent seven before my mind was whirling. I am good at cynicism. I'm good at poking holes in theories that don't work. I can do cynicism.

But hope? That's another thing entirely.

There is a kind of hope that masquerades as hope; but it fails in its naive cliches. "God is in control," when given to explain the horrific violence that one cannot explain is not hope at all, it is a life line thrown without a shore in sight.

Hope is found in the dirty details of real life. It is held by people who know loss, yet somehow keep going. Cynicism can propel someone out of the mud, but cannot find its own footing. Hope is direction; it is the shore in sight. Hope is grounded.

So I want to know real hope. I want to embody hope. Hope based in the down and dirty details, without pretending that life is better than it is. Hope that speaks without words and rises out of ashes.

That's what I want.

Instruments of Peace

2007-09-14T20:11:00.001-07:00

Over the past few years, it has gotten harder and harder to believe that love might actually win as we continue to see war and violence rip familes and nations apart. A small group of friends, fueled by stories of hope and a vision of peace, have put together a prjoect that echoes our deepest desire for the world: that violence would be overcome with love; that despair would be dissolved by hope; and that we would destroy our enemies by making them our friends.

Please join us in this release of love on October 6th, 7:30pm at Christ Presbyterian Church.

For more information, visit www.youarethere.org -- a site that explains the details of this project.

Let's work together so that love can win in our hearts and in the world.

We're home.

2007-05-25T13:32:00.000-07:00

It's good to be home.

All three of us are settling into life back at home. Life in the hospital is sort of like its own little form of hell. From overly chatty nurses who insist on telling you about how ready to quit they are because of the dust from the construction, to the constant dinging of the nurse bell heard all up and down the hall way, it's enough to make you start thinking about growing your beard out and talking to your imaginary friends. We actually got great care, it's just that one can only take so many interruptions from strangers asking you about your special parts and how they feel today. Poor Mary.

Being a new dad is a little bit like...um....nothing I've ever done before. He's awake right now, bright eyed, moving his hands all over the place in his little crib. He's supposed to be sleeping. Little fart.

If there were contests, this little guy would for sure win first prize in countless categories. For one, he's the best looking newborn that has ever come out of the chute. I mean, normally, babies are kind of ugly for a while -- let's be honest. They look like something in between Red Skelton and the Stay Puft Marshmallow man (isn't it weird how babies can look like old men?). Not this kid. Beautiful. And he's strong. The last time I went into his room to check on him, he was doing pushups. I had to tell him that babies are supposed to stay on their backs, so they can breathe. He told me that a couple extra pushups wouldn't hurt me. Again, little fart.

I told you I was going to get sappy. I may not hit the dangers of mixing the American flag and the Christian flag until at least July 4th.

He's Here!

2007-05-24T14:07:00.000-07:00

Meet Isaac James, 8 pounds, 1 ounce, 21 & 1/2 inches long, and flirting with nurses already.

The moments leading up to his birth were some of the worst in my life. After laboring really hard for more than 12 hours at the hospital, and another 12 before that at home, Mary's labor conked out. Officially, it's called "Ineffective labor" and it's when you stop dilating, and your cervix even begins to thicken back up. Because the labor was so intense, Isaac's heart rate was at pretty dangerous levels for most of the afternoon. When his heart rate dipped to 70 (normal is about 140 for babies), and stayed there for a couple of minutes, all of a sudden, nurses were yanking plugs out of the wall, and before I knew it we were racing down the hall way to do an emergency c section. A nurse threw blue scrubs at me and told me to put them on as fast as I could, but then to wait outside of the operating room before the c-section began.

Minutes later, I saw him come out, covered in meconium and not looking good. I raced with the nurses to another room where they cleaned him up and began sucking fluid out of his nose, mouth, and throat. I kept asking if he was going to be O.K., and I kept getting answers like, "Well, that's what we're working on." He was kind of greyish. I have never felt as sick as I felt in that moment.

Luckily, babies are very resilient, and now, 48 hours after he was born, he's doing really well. His numbers are all normal, he's eating well, and the danger has passed. I can't even begin to explain the terror and fear that gripped me on Tuesday. It was the worst experience of my life.

Now the sap begins. Holding him, and even holding his gaze for a few seconds at a time, my heart is full of something that I didn't even know was there. It actually hurts. He looks like me. It's mostly in his mouth, but he looks like me. I don't really know what has "changed" in me except to say that everything seems to have shifted to make room -- a lot of room -- for my son. And I realized that I'll never know another minute where I'm not thinking about him, at least on some level. I don't mean to over spiritualize this, but I also realize that my only option is to be the very best dad that I know how to be, learning from other dads along the way, but I need to hand his spirit and even his well being over to God, knowing that God will father and mother him in ways that I cannot.

More to come.

One day Late

2007-05-19T08:02:00.000-07:00

Well, he's officially one day late.

On these final days before he's born, it's somewat similar to when I was in the backseat of my parent's car on vacation. Inbetween smearing peanut butter into my sister's hair and forcing her to stare at my braces full of cheeto gunk, while smelling my rank breath, I screamed to my parents "Are we there yet?"

In these final days of pregnancy, we're looking for any sign that it might coming soon -- "Oh, honey, it looks like you've dropped even more." "Wow, my leg really hurts all of a sudden. Maybe it's labor!" Brutal.

Everybody we talk to these days feels absolutely compelled to tell us that their fourth cousin was 8 weeks late. They smile at us sadistically, tell their tale of woe, pat Mary's belly, and tell us to hunker down.

Other people insist on telling us their horror stories about birth. "For my first baby, I was in labor for 72 hours. Seriously. And he came out spread eagle, one leg at a time. I was dilated 20cm!" "Oh, that's nothing. My second came four months late, and I didn't even go into the hospital for a week after my water broke. He was 12 pounds!"

I'm sure Isaac will come any day now. Or in four weeks, spread eagle at 12 pounds.

And I never had braces. That was poetic license.

Baby Coming Soon...

2007-05-16T19:35:00.000-07:00

I have not blogged in approximately 72 years, yet I got an email saying that 5 people still check this blog daily. So, if you are one of those five, you deserve some sort of prize for hanging in there.

I am going to be a father. Very soon. Perhaps tonight. People keep asking me how I'm doing. I answer with some variation of "It's a mixed bag-I'm feeling every emotion-stop asking me I've run out of answers because it's all anyone asks me anymore." My wife is due 2 days from now. Two days. We're having a boy.

I promise not to fill my blog with worthless gibberish about how being a father makes me understand everything in the universe in a whole new way. But I might have a couple of posts that resemble, or actually become, straight up cheese. I mean, drooly, silly, pejorative crap all about how I could stare at my son's nose for hours on end (i'm convinced that I'll actually do this).

But then, I'll get back to the real business at hand: important issues like why I still think Bono is for real, why I still am bugged by the American flag that proudly stands outside of the sanctuary of my church, and how I think love, in the smallest ways, actually does win, even when I think it doesn't.

Great to be back.

Faster World, Emptier Soul...

2006-12-17T14:39:00.000-08:00

One of Starbuck's new strategies is to put as many drive through locations as possible in every major metropolitan area in the United States. About six months ago, one opened up three blocks from my house. Just last Thursday, I paid it a friendly visit. The only problem was that the drive through line was way too long. After quickly calculating that it would have taken more than 4 minutes, I decided to park, and place my order the old fashioned way, the way God intended it: by getting out of my vehicle. After grabbing my extremely hot beverage, I walked out to my car, and before getting in, the though hit me: "Did I actually save time by walking in? I probably didn't!"

That kind of thinking is shrinking my soul.

Think about it: How many things can we simply order up with the ease of a drive through, the click of a mouse, or the dialing of a phone? And if it takes longer than 1.5 minutes to "complete" our order, we get frustrated. Research companies get paid massive amounts of money to see just how patient web surfers will be; if it takes any more than six clicks to navigate around a page, we're out. If it takes longer than 4 seconds for a page to load, we're out. We simply cannot wait. And it's killing us.

This impatience is pandemic: If I'm behind someone who is executing a right turn too slowly, there is a little part of me that is frustrated. If someone is taking too long to "get to the point" of their story, I am frustrated. If I pick the "slow" line in the grocery store, it drives me crazy. I am being formed into a person that has to have what he wants when he wants it. I wonder where I got that idea (hmmm....any commercials come to mind)?

The problem is that I begin to see people as a means to achieving my end: they exist to give me what I want. If you think I'm too cyncial, or that I'm exaggerating, keep a journal for a week and record how many times you experience something like what I described in the previous paragraphs. We have a problem.

How do we fight this?

Some Words from a Hero...

2006-12-15T05:46:00.000-08:00

Please read Bono's remarks at this year's National Prayer Breakfast to understand why, to me, he is more than a rock star. I'm not posting this to be controversial, just to explain my previous post. And please read the whole thing.

Great words...

2006-12-13T18:28:00.000-08:00

"`Love Thy Enemy' is not advice. It's a command."
-- Bono.

Are you the one?

2006-12-11T18:33:00.000-08:00

In Matthew 11, we read about a great question that John the Baptist poses of Jesus: "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect another?"

Why is John wondering this? He's spent his whole life preaching about the coming Messiah, warning people to repent of their sins, and turn to God. He prepared a way for this Messiah to come, he baptized this messiah, and he even lept in his mother's womb at the very mention of Jesus.

What was John expecting that Jesus was not doing? What was Jesus doing that John was not expecting? What kind of Messiah did Jesus have to be to have his own cousin wondering about his identity?

Why were Jesus' actions in the gospels so decidedly non Messiah-like, at least according to devout Jews like John the Baptist?

Barak Hussein Obama

2006-12-07T04:21:00.000-08:00

Just a few days ago, I got an email from a Christian blogging organization who noticed my blog and invited me to be a part of their network. So, I clicked on their site and one of the first things I saw was an article titled, "Barak Hussein Obama." Interested, I read the first few lines of this article, and the rhetoric against the Senator from Illinois was palpable. His middle name is Hussein! He's probably a terrorist!

Barak Obama was invited by Rick Warren, the uber pastor of one of the nation's biggest (and most conservative) churches, to speak at Saddleback's World AIDS day event. Predictably, Warren has received much correspondance from Christian Republicans, chastising him for allowing someone who is pro-choice to speak at his church. I applaud Warren for being such a high profile evangelical leader and making such a strong statement about bi-partisanship. Most Evangelical Christians have a long way to go in this regard. I still remember Bill Hybels bringing in his friend Bill Clinton when he was the sitting President, and getting literal HATE mail from Christians. Are we so blindly ignorant that we think that we have nothing to learn from people who might think differently, even on big issues, than ourselves? Are we so grossly self righteous and hypocritical that we believe we have nothing to learn from someone who has committed public moral sins?

It's the same strategy over and over again: Villify someone, stir up all kinds of fear in the minds and hearts of radio and TV listeners everywhere (so they will continue to listen to your radio show or watch your television program), and convince those people that if this event, or people group, or person, is allowed to run amok, our great nation (which was once so Christian, and needs to simply get back to its roots, they say), and especially Christianity, will cease to exist.

If that's Christianity -- to be harbingers of fear and ignorant bigotry while hearkening back to our Christian roots when we slaughtered millions of Native Americans and African slaves in order to stake claim on "our" land -- I hope it does cease to exist. We can do without that kind of Christianity. It's unlike Christ.

I do not know how to love these kinds of people. I am so angry at them that I rant at home, and at work, to anyone who will listen. Not loving them is so unlike Christ. I don't know how to do it.

Peter's "More Than These"

2006-11-28T20:33:00.000-08:00

There is a fantastic story recorded in John's gospel, right at the very end. Peter (the one who denied Jesus on the night he was assasinated) is overjoyed to see the resurrected Jesus, so he jumps into the lake to swim to shore to see him, clothes and all. You have to love that.

After a brief meal, Jesus gets right to it: "Peter, do you love me more than these?"

My question:

What are Peter's "these?" And why does he love them so much that Jesus has to ask him if he loves him "more" than them?

Was he talking about the other disciples?
Was he talking about the fish?
Was he talking about Peter's family?

I have a theory: We aren't supposed to know. There isn't an "answer." Peter's "more than these" is just a way for Jesus to ask him if there is room for Jesus to be at the top of the list. I don't think Jesus is a needy, narcisistic co dependent who needs to be loved. I do think Jesus wants Peter's absolute, utter attention and devotion, because the agenda of Jesus is that important.

What are my "more than these?" What are the things that seem un-throw-away-able so much that I crowd the agenda of Jesus out of my life? It's not that I can't have some "these" in my life, it's just that Jesus is the ultimate pragmatist. It's like he's saying that he is the best way to experience the best possible life. Somehow, to give myself over fully to a man named Jesus who loved tax collectors and prostitutes and who yelled at religious people a lot is the way towards life. I know, I know, even that sounds cliche-ish, like something you might hear at a baptist revival ("All to Jesus, I surrender...).

I don't want to love Jesus becuase of the Bible or because some speaker tells me to. I want to love Jesus because of the compelling nature of the call that he still gives out.

"Do you love me more than these?"

it's almost like a dare.

Death Threats

2006-08-03T16:19:00.000-07:00

While listening to a great interview with Eugene Peterson, the translator of The Message, I learned that the original translator of The Living Bible (Ken Taylor) received many death threats for his rendering of the language of the Bible. Death threats. Presumably from Christians. Christians who presumably read the Bible. Christians who think the world would be a better place if they committed murder.

I don't get this.

I also remember one time when Bill Hybels brought Bill Clinton in to speak to thousands of church leaders about leadership, while he was the standing president. Granted, a controversial decision. Hybels reported that he got some of the most hate filled emails that he had ever read. From Christians.

I don't get this.

It is absolutely no wonder why this generation has given up on Christianity.

Someone confronted me today.

2006-07-25T18:08:00.000-07:00

I got an email a couple of days ago from someone, wondering if we could meet somewhere to talk. This was not a close friend -- to be honest, it was a pretty casual acquaintance. I hadn't talked to this person in at least a year. We agreed to meet at a local Caribou this afternoon.

About 20 minutes into our conversation, this person said, "I've been angry with you because of how you treated me on two different occasions, and I don't want to be angry with you. So I really need to talk it through with you. Do you mind?"

I gulped and asked this person to please go ahead and tell me how I had hurt them. Over the next 30 minutes, we broke it down. It wasn't easy. I apologized. I asked clarifying questions. I explained myself where necessary. And I really think we left as friends.

I was so impressed with this person's integrity. It would have been so easy to just "let it go..." but this person couldn't. It would have gone against the nature of who she was. She took it upon herself to "make it right" with me by saying some very difficult things. Her spirit was soft, and her words were truthful, and vulnerable.

Today I re-learned a lesson that I have known in my mind for quite some time: When it comes to reconciliation, It's always my turn. Followers of Jesus are instructed to seek forgiveness when we have wronged someone...but we're also instructed to be the first to seek reconcilication when somone has wronged us.

Who has wronged you that you need to set up a meeting with in order to make it right? Who have you wronged that you need to ask forgiveness?

It's always your turn.

I wanted to punch someone today.

2006-07-20T17:05:00.000-07:00

Seriously. I was so angry at someone today that I literally wanted to jump across the table and punch him. At the very least, I wanted to humiliate him and put him in his place. Forget responding to violence with non violent resistance. This guy was a complete idiot.

Here's why I didn't punch him: I didn't want to get fired. I also didn't know his story -- I think I had only met him once before today, and that was very brief. I also didn't punch him because it's generally not in my nature to punch someone -- I've never punched anyone. But in my spirit, I really punched him. And in the car on the way home, I came up with at least 12 really cutting, biting statements that surely would have put him in his place. In fact, he has stayed with me, in my spirit, ever since our interaction. I've been punching him for about 3 hours now.

There's quite a long road between philosophy and actual behavior.

The Ethics of God

2006-07-07T12:14:00.000-07:00

In my recent post about Michael Berg, a great discussion began that I'd like to continue here. Any discussion on violence will ultimately lead to function -- we will eventually ask the question, "What works best to stop violence?" Certainly, we want to do what works best. Right?

I read an interesting thought on that subject that snapped my mind past the either/or thinking that I usually engage in, and into a third way of thinking. Read it below (taken from Resident Aliens by Willimon and Hauerwas):

"The Basis for the ethics on the Sermon on the Mount is not what works but rather the way God is. Cheek-turning is not advocated as what works (it usually does not), but advocated because this is the way God is -- God is kind to the ungrateful and the selfish. This is not a strategem for getting what we want but the only manner of life available, now that, in Jesus, we have seen what God wants. We seek reconciliation with the neighbor, not because we feel so much better afterward, but because reconciliation is what God is doing in the world through Christ."

If reconciliation is what God is doing in the world through Christ, and I am trying to become like him, then I am not allowed to keep enemies. I am not allowed to demonize people, no matter how bad they are or how many atrocities that they have committed, because God does not. I am not allowed to write anyone off. I am not allowed to give up on anyone. I am not allowed to give up on reconciliation in my thoughts or in my actions.

If reconciliation is what God is doing in the world through Christ, and I am not about reconciliation, even in my thoughts, then I am not doing what God is doing.

Thanks...

2006-07-02T14:49:00.000-07:00

Thank you to all of the men and women who are stationed all over the world as members of the US Military. We can't even imagine how hard it is for you, and what you go through every day. Thank you so much for getting up every morning to face it all again.

We're praying for peace so that you people can come home soon.

Actually doing what Jesus told us to do...

2006-06-13T13:12:00.000-07:00

The following is from an interview with Michael Berg, the father of a man who was killed in Iraq by al-Zarqawi.

A gruesome video was posted on Islamic Web sites in May, 2004, depicting a man believed to be al-Zarqawi beheading Nicholas Berg, an American businessman who was working in Iraq.
CNN anchor Soledad O'Brien talks to Nicholas Berg's father, Michael Berg, by phone from Wilmington, Delaware, for his reaction to the news.

O'BRIEN: Mr. Berg, thank you for talking with us again. It's nice to have an opportunity to talk to you. Of course, I'm curious to know your reaction, as it is now confirmed that Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, the man who is widely credited and blamed for killing your son, Nicholas, is dead.

MICHAEL BERG: Well, my reaction is I'm sorry whenever any human being dies. Zarqawi is a human being. He has a family who are reacting just as my family reacted when Nick was killed, and I feel bad for that. I feel doubly bad, though, because Zarqawi is also a political figure, and his death will re-ignite yet another wave of revenge, and revenge is something that I do not follow, that I do want ask for, that I do not wish for against anybody. And it can't end the cycle. As long as people use violence to combat violence, we will always have violence.

I cannot say that I would respond with the kind of love and boldness that Michael Berg did, but his attitude is literally what I believe Jesus is calling us to do. This is a direct challenge to any of us who felt happy, or that felt that somehow justice was being served, when al-Zarqawi was killed.

I agree with Mr. Berg: As long as people use violence to combat violence, we will always have violence.

Neil & His Friends

2006-05-29T05:46:00.000-07:00

At about 6:45am yesterday, I was driving to the local S.A. to get a newspaper. Right before I got to the S.A., I decided that I wanted to get my car washed, so I took a right on Lake street. Immediately, I saw a guy walking west towards Highway 100, and waving his arms up in the air. I recognized the universal signal for, "Slow down, please, I need a ride" and pulled up next to him.

"What's the problem?" I asked this sweaty guy who couldn't have been more than 21.

"My friends f&*&ing dropped me off here after partying all night, I'm from Iowa, and I have no idea where I'm going! I need to get to Hiawatha and 50th."

He was in St. Louis Park, which is roughly 14 years away from Hiawatha and 50th, at least if you're on foot.

"Hop in."

For the next 15 minutes or so, I got to talk to Neil about what kind of revenge that he was going to get on his "friends," who dropped him off at Lake Calhoun after a night of drinking in Minneapolis. Neil had no money, didn't know where he was, and was still a little (well, a lot) drunk. OK, there is a time in my life where I would have thought that this was a little funny. Maybe I still do a little bit.

But it also makes me think: what kind of friends do this? Neil was actually 25 years old, and he was up in Minnesota (from Des Moines) celebrating his birthday with his friends. After you had sobered up, and slept a little bit, if you were Neil, wouldn't you get a little depressed about the quality of your friendships?

If young men like Neil don't develop stronger friendships, I am afraid of the kind of world we will live in 25 years from now, when Neil is 50, and in charge of important things, like raising a family and running a company. I don't mean to be overly melodramatic, but it's time for young men to want to become men. Men who pursue with strength and react with maturity. Men who don't leave their friends on the curb after "celebrating" their birthday.

For any men reading this: It's time to grow up.

Defensive

2006-05-08T15:45:00.000-07:00

I reacted really defensively today when a friend criticized a joint project that I had been a part of, one that I thought had gone really well. This person who gave the feedback is a good friend, and generally very positive, so I took it seriously. I think it hurt because: (1) I knew that he was at least partially right (and maybe more than partially); and (2) I still get tied up in performance -- if I didn't "measure up" to someone's standard, then I must in some part be a failure.

The bottom line is that I would like to be a very sensitive person who is less wrapped up in what people think of me. Does that make sense? When I was complaining one time about being "too sensitive," one of my friends told me that I am sensitive so that I can really "sense" things that are going on around me -- things in myself and in others. The positive side of that is that I'm intuitive. The negative is that my skin is not as thick as I'd like it to be sometimes, and I tend to get hurt more easily than others.

So how do sensitive people learn to be less defensive in order to genuinely sense what is really happening in ourselves and in others?

Who do you reject?

2006-04-28T11:53:00.000-07:00

Have you ever spent a day trying to listen to your inner, unsaid reactions to the people and events of your day? It's a fascinating way to reveal how you actually think vs. how you think you think. Some examples of the things that I have noticed coming out of my brain have startled me:

* When someone was pulling out of the parking lot in an old, beat up car, my immediate thought was that the driver was probably less intelligent and lazier than me.

* When someone jumped on a treadmill next to me, constantly coughing and smelling of smoke, I thought: "What a loser -- you're totally wasting your time."

* When an overly tan, middle aged woman walked in to a meeting that I was also in, I thought, "Wow, how insecure you must be. Get over it."

Now that you think I am a totally insensitive bastard, I challenge you to try this experiment for a day. If you do it, I'd love to hear some of the things that you find out that you think which startle you.

Schedule

2006-04-27T18:25:00.000-07:00

One of the things that my friends tease me about is the fact that my wife and I have two white boards right by our back door, which we use to post the schedule for the next two months of our lives. We use a color coded system -- one color for my activities, one color for Mary's, and a third color for activities which involve both of us. We're complete geeks, and we're comfortable with it.

The other night, I freaked out. A bunch of stuff got added to the calendar (with the third color), and the month of May was already too busy. It's not that I'm anti-social, it's just that when I'm with people all day, then all night, I tend to feel somewhat like an elephant is sitting on top of me. That's not a good thing (insert Guffman vibe).

Yet, I also love my friends and I love being with people. I have a hard time carving out enough alone time, as well as making sure I'm spending time with the people that I love (friends and family), and the random work things that I have to do on given nights.

Is the solution to live moment by moment, drawing life and strength out of each of them no matter what I'm doing? Or is it to strictly regiment my time with people & my time alone, making sure I have enough of each? Is the word balance poorly used, and not the point? Or Is there a third way? What method gives you more life, and leads to more freedom?

Gas

2006-04-26T06:35:00.000-07:00

Only in America can we sip our $4 latte while we rant on our cell phones about the astounding price of gasoline, all while driving our $20,000-plus dollar car.

I'm not excited about paying $3 a gallon, but there are other things to get fired up about. I'm just as guilty as you are. But sometimes it just takes a little jolt to remove our gaze from the American dream in order to see the state of the rest of the world. Click here to read about the state of one continent whose top complaint isn't gas.

Ahmed

2006-04-16T10:33:00.000-07:00

I sold my car yesterday to a Russian guy named Mehei. I really liked Mehei, especially his scraggly goatee. A few days ago, Mehei came and checked out my car for the first time, liked it, and made a provisional offer, but he wanted to get it checked out by a mechanic before he agreed on a final purchase price. I told Mehei that if other people called in the meantime, I would show them the car, but if they made an offer, I would call him and give him first right of refusal. I felt a little slick doing this, but hey, I needed to get as much money as I could get from my car.

The next day, a guy by the name of Ahmed called me, and we agreed on a time that he would come to see my car. He drove it, and really liked it. I told him that there was another offer on the table, but that it wasn't final, so I would accept an offer from him if he would like to make one. I was trying to play both of these guys so that I could get them into a bidding war and get more money for my car. You know, the whole love wins thing. Err.....

When I told Ahmed that there was another offer on the table, he politely said that he did not want to get in the way of this other guy getting my car, since he was there first. He started to say, "It's against my..." and then he finished by simply saying that "I just would not like to do that to the other guy. It wouldn't be fair." I looked Ahmed in the eyes and told him that I thought he was very honorable, and inwardly I felt a little ashamed.

I immediately wanted to sell my car to Ahmed. He was a genuinely honorable person who was practicing the golden rule with sincerity and humility. I feel in my spirit that Ahmed loves God. I do not know this, I'm just saying that's how I felt when I was around him -- that's what my spirit discerned. I prayed for Ahmed that night.

Ahmed is a Muslim.

Literalists and non literalists

2006-04-13T12:03:00.000-07:00

1. "That was the funniest movie I've seen in my entire life..."

2. "I've told you that a thousand times..."

3. "You never remember my birthday!"

We use hyperbole in daily conversation all of the time, as the statements above reflect. In each of those statements, we can figure out fairly easily what the speaker means.

1. I really enjoyed that movie -- it was quite hilarious, and my sides are still hurting from laughing so much.

2. I have told you this particular thing more times than is reasonable for you to still be acting the same way, and if you do that thing one more time, I will be immensely displeased.

3. I can't believe that you forgot my birthday again, you arrogant, selfish oaf.

Yet, some people insist that every single word and every single sentence in the Bible is to be taken absolutely literally. I realize that some would call this a slippery slope -- if every single sentence isn't literal, then we can't trust the Bible at all. Yet, there are more than a few instances in the Bible where it becomes very difficult to take literally. For example,

1. In Matthew 13:34, the writer comments that Jesus "did not say anything to them without using a parable." If we are to take that literally, then we are forced into the improbable belief that Jesus never once in three years said one word to them that was not in parable form. "John, there was once a man whom I loved very much who leaned into me without bathing for three days in a row, and it became burdensome to my sensitive nose..."

2. In Psalm114:3 we read that "the sea looked and fled, the Jordan turned back; the mountains skipped like rams, the hills like lambs." Wow! I've never seen a hill do that before.

There are more, but do you get what I'm saying? The Bible was written in different genres, and some genres include poetry and hyperbole to make a point. This doesn' t make the Bible less true, or it's readers who interpret these passages non-literally to be wrong.

Agree or disagree?

N.T. Wright

2006-04-09T12:14:00.000-07:00

“Our task, as image bearing, God-loving, Christ-shaped, Spirit-filled Christians, following Christ and shaping our world, is to announce redemption to the world that has discovered its fallenness, to announce healing to the world that has discovered its brokenness, to proclaim love and trust to the world that knows only exploitation, fear and suspicion.”

– N.T. Wright, The Challenge of Jesus

One of the most exciting, and most insightful books I've read lately is The Challenge of Jesus by N.T. Wright. An Anglican Bishop, N.T. Wright is an expert in 1st century Judaism. His premise is that we cannot know Jesus fully unless we know him as he was -- the person that lived and taught within the context of 1st century Judaism.

According to N.T. Wright, our mission is to be for our world what Jesus was for Israel: both an invitation and a confrontation. We are: To announce redemption; to announce healing; and to proclaim love and trust to a world that has discovered its fallenness & brokenness, and that knows only exploitation, fear, and suspicion.

I thought we were supposed to picket things we disagree with, argue enlessly with other Christians about when the "rapture" is going to happen, and make sure we're "getting fed."

There is an interesting inference in the word "announce." It's almost as if you are proclaiming something that exists, and is real, but it doesn't become real for the person to whom you are announcing it, until you actually announce it. Announcing carries with it a sense of authority; it's a proclamation.

If that really is what we are here for, what better news could we possibly bring? The good news is not something you adhere to; it's something that you joyfully accept, racing to obtain it before it slips through your fingers -- a dream almost too good to be true. The reason we reduce it to a section of beliefs to be framed is because we don't really experience it ourselves. It has become an ancient creed we mind-numbingly recite every time we gather for worship because it is not a reality for most of us - not nearly enough anyway.

DonkEYS, Part Two...

2006-03-30T11:07:00.000-08:00

I found out a little more about donkies, though the jury is still out as to whether or not Jesus stole the one that he rode into Jerusalem on.

Donkies (that had never been ridden before) were frequently used by Kings -- riding on a donkey would not have been a ridiculous sight in those days. On the contrary, it would have been an honor, and an indication of royalty.

In choosing a donkey that had never been ridden before, Jesus was proclaiming himself (finally) as King. This is the message that Jews would have understood immediately. See Zechariah 9:9
for a little more on that.

The people who were cheering Jesus on were doing so because they thought he was about to overthrow Rome and restore "the good old days" to Israel. Instead, the very next thing he does is to go into their most sacred place (the temple) during one of the holiest times of year (passover) and overthrow a bunch of tables. Instead of breaking the neck of opression from the outside, Jesus confronts it from the inside. The people in the time of Jesus wanted a Messiah -- they just didn't want that kind of Messiah. Those kinds of Messiahs get killed.

Of course, we totally understand who Jesus the Messiah is. We have no misperceptions of the kind of Kingdom that he is bringing, and he doesn't need to confront our understanding of him at all. We are submitting ourselves fully to the King as we set about bringing his kingdom from heaven to earth. We're right on track. We have nothing to correct.

Right?

A Donkey

2006-03-24T06:52:00.000-08:00

Soon, churches around the world will celebrate Palm Sunday. Church stages will be filled with kids dressed in bathrobes and birkenstocks, "real" palm branches will line the floors, and people will yell out "Hosanna!" without really knowing what it means. It'll be a beautiful day.

On the actual Palm Sunday, Jesus rode in on a donkey, which must have looked ridiculous. If you've ever seen one, you know that donkies are the epitome of idiocy; there's a reason they're called asses. He rode in on a donkey to show that the kingdom that he was bringing was going to come in a radically different way than almost everyone lining those streets shouting for him thought that it would. Those same people, a week later, were shouting for his assasination. I believe the donkey symbolized power through weakness rather than power through force. You have to love these little touches that Jesus adds. He would have been a great producer for a weekend church service. Maybe even better than Johnny Hoel.

Here's what I was wondering this morning: In the story, Jesus tells his disciples to go into town in order to find a donkey for his entrance into the city later on that day. He instructed them to take (without asking) this donkey (which wasn't his, or theirs), and if its owners asked them why they were untying their donkey (which was the property of the owners, not the disciples), they were to simply say, "The Lord needs it." From what we read, the disciples didn't offer to pay for the donkey, or return it.

Well, the owners did notice. They did ask. And the disciples did say, "The Lord needs it." Then, the disciples took that donkey back to Jesus.

Jesus stole that freaking donkey!

The Sea Monster, The Second Adam, and Belief

2006-03-21T14:01:00.000-08:00

One of the most told but least understood stories in all of humanity is the one with Adam, Eve, the apple, and the snake. You know how it goes: A snake (that talks) somehow comes up to Eve, tempts her to eat the apple, which she gladly does, inviting her husband Adam to do the same. All hell breaks loose (literally), these two people are kicked out of the garden, and suddenly childbirth is painful for Eve.

A friend of mine was explaining a different way to understand this story to a group of us the other day. He said that in the Hebrew language, a better translation of "serpent" is actually something much more terrible -- though it doesn't translate perfectly, it's something like a huge sea monster. A terrifying monster who you would be deathly afraid of.

When this sea monster tells Eve that "She certainly won't die if she eats the apple," the sentence is structured in such a way that Hebrew readers would infer another meaning almost automatically. The sea monster is implying: "If you don't eat it, I'll kill you." If this is true, it was more than a tempting situation, it was life threatening.

Adam was there the whole time that this serpent/sea monster was talking to Eve. He was present, but paralyzed with fear. Instead of stepping in between the Sea Monster and his wife, he was frozen in fear -- afraid of dying, afraid of confrontation. The result? The fall of humanity. Adam was afraid of dying. Had he stepped in between, he would have died. But God would have raised him up again. Adam did not believe this.

About six thousand (or so) years later, a "Second" Adam enters the scene. This Adam is not afraid to die. This Adam does believe that God will raise him up. This Adam steps in between the Sea Monster and me. In doing so, he dies...but saves me. And, God raised him up again. In dying, he gives life.

This is why I follow the second Adam. Not only does he step inbetween the Sea Monster and me to save me, he shows me how to live -- by stepping in between for my friends -- by laying down my life...and finding life by doing so.

Robes

2006-02-25T11:07:00.000-08:00

At the great church that I work at, there is one service that requires clergy to wear a robe when they are participating in that service. Since I am not clergy, I am exempt from this requirement. At the last service in which I participated (sans robe), I learned something fascinating when I asked one of my friends (who was wearing a robe) when that tradition started.

He told me that robes were worn by all people in certain house churches in early Christianity, so that no one could tell the difference between the rich and the poor, based on their clothes. They had an intentional practice whereby the rich and the poor could not be distinguished.

If this is true, two things are striking:

(1) It assumes rich and poor people would co-mingle together in "church," and that specific measures would be taken so that the poor would not feel demeaned by how they are dressed and by their condition in life. That doesn't happen much anymore.

(2) Nowdays, robes are worn by clergy to distinguish themselves from the "lay" people. I'm certain that is not what any clergy would say the reason is for why they're worn, but the net result is that the person wearing the robe is distinguished as the religious professional.

Maybe there are some things that we need to do within the "church" to erase some of the things that distinguish one group of people from another. Any ideas?

Starting a Church?

2006-02-19T12:12:00.000-08:00

The circles in which I have found myself during the past 10 years or so have led me to hear, read, and think quite a bit about the concept of starting churches. Usually, a church will begin when someone (or a small group of people) begin to get passionate about creatively communicating an old message in new ways. I have been there; in some ways I still am there. What is interesting about this way of thinking is that you begin to dream about something both "in the future" and episodic. I think I may have just made that word up -- what I mean by "episodic" is something that occurs reguarly (weekly, monthly, or whatever) that is carefully planned. For example, Grey's Anatomy is an episode that "airs" once weekly, on Sunday nights, at 9:00pm central. What I mean by future is something that occurs on a specific day, just not today.

When a group of people begin to dream about episodic church gatherings in the future, it's a good thing. We need new, creative expressions of the old story. But I have begin to wonder if "future" and "episodic" are poor ways to think about starting a church.

Let's say you find yourself passionately thinking about starting a church. Perhaps the first question you should ask yourself is: Has a "church" already started with a group of my friends that simply does not have an episode that airs officially yet? I mean: Are a group of people around you beginning to have common thoughts about Jesus & life together? If so, it may be that your church has already started, and it just doesn't have an episode that is officially "airing." How is it that this little group of people is becoming the church with each other? How are you treating each other? How intentionally are you thinking about coming together around the mind and heart of Jesus?

My point is that we need to begin to live now the way we want our "church" to be like in the future. Otherwise, we will certainly miss the future altogether, by focusing only on the future, because the future never actually happens. We become what we live right now; and right now; and right now. Sorry to get a bit Matrix-y.

Do you need an "episode" to have a "church?" Not necessarily. I do think there needs to be some sort of coming together for encouragement, centering around the life of Jesus, and to create a space for others to experience what you are experiencing.

So next time you think about starting a church, ask yourself if you have already done so, and just didn't know it.

This may be the weirdest post I have ever written.

Out for a Week

2006-02-08T17:50:00.000-08:00

Hey peeps:

I'm out for about a week. Here are some random questions that have been jack hammering around in my mind for a while:

* Does God want me to change who I am or to become who I am? I do think there is a difference.

* If I read the Bible and feel shame, have I simply interpreted it wrong or do I need to let the shame in?

* What am I most afraid that people are thinking about me currently?

* Will the Vikings be good, ever?

Have a great week.

Unbelievable

2006-02-02T03:50:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, I was speaking at a retreat for high school students. After one of my talks, a young woman named Sarah came up to me a little teary eyed. She explained to me that her mom had died of cancer two years ago, and she was wondering what God's role was in all of that. Her response came after a somewhat glib statement that I made regarding the fact that I don't believe that God causes suffering.

The main reasoning behind my conviction comes from a belief that I hold: Because I believe that Jesus is the exact representation of God (this train of thought happens to come from Colossians 1:15), I believe that anything that I see in Jesus, I can believe about God. Conversely, anything that I do not see in Jesus, I have no reason to believe about God. When I see Jesus treating a prostitute with dignity and respect, I believe that's how God thinks about and treats prostitutes. When I see Jesus getting angry at religious hypocrisy, I believe that's how God thinks about people who care more about rules than about people. And, because I never see Jesus once bring suffering on someone, by closing their womb, or by giving them a disease, I have no reason to believe that God does that.

In fact, Jesus goes out of his way to heal people of their suffering. In Luke 4, he states his reason for being here on earth in very explicit terms (it's interesting that he doesn't include dying on the cross in this statement). He's here to heal the sick, give sight to the blind, release prisoners, and give freedom to people.

Now, why would a God like that ever need to cause suffering in someone, even if something "good" comes out of it? Are we to believe that God is so uncreative that he needs to curse someone with illness in order to save someone else, or even that person? Or can it be that God is so good that he enters into the darkest evil that God did not cause, in order to bring freedom? I submit to you that you can't really believe that God is good if you believe that God causes suffering like cancer, rape, etc. And, to me, there is no difference between "causing" and "allowing." If a tragedy has to pass through the desk of God and get the O.K., God is just as culpable as if God put the wheels in motion and came up with the idea.

I suppose in one sense you cannot let God off of the hook entirely. When God demonstrated the absolute brilliance of his omnipotence by creating beings who could resist that omnipotence, perhaps in that moment, one could argue that God is responsible. But that's still different to me. The will of God is love and freedom and healing. The fact that we can oppose this will with hatred and evil proves to me that God is not author of suffering, that God does not ordain all things, and that God's will is not always done on earth.

Rant complete.

Another Question...

2006-01-25T19:32:00.000-08:00

Great conversation happening on the last post -- keep it going.

New question: Recently, someone said that if you have two coats, then you stole that second coat from someone who doesn't have a coat at all.

Agree or disagree?

On the one hand, I see this person's point: what "right" have I to own two coats if I cannot wear them both at the same time, and if someone else doesn't have one? The same could be said for food, money, etc. If you have excess, and someone else lives in need, that isn't right.

The problem with this way of saying that for me is that it (a) is hypothetical (I realize that there are people with no coats, I am just not talking to one right now); and (b) motivates me by making me feel guilty. If someone came up to my door and asked for a coat on a cold winter day, I really think I would give them one of my coats. But then, what if they just sat on my curb? I think I still would. What if they sat on the corner of my block? Still would. The edge of my neighborhood? Probably still would. But how far away does a person need to get away from me when I no longer feel like I need to give them that coat?

I'm actually not trying to argue that the way this person stated the coat theft dilemma is right. Or wrong. But I've found myself thinking about it. I have more than one of a lot of things. And there are a lot of people with nothing.

Thoughts on Heaven...

2006-01-20T11:28:00.000-08:00

Lately, I've spent some time thinking about hell. And heaven. And who goes where, and what exists, and in what form. Here are some thoughts and questions that I've been wrestling with lately. Some of these reflections are due to some curriculum I've recently written for students, and some from a talk by Rob Bell called "The Flames of Heaven" that I listened to while running yesterday.

1. Does heaven exist solely in the afterlife, or is heaven invading earth here and now, through acts of love, kindness, light, and truth? Can you experience heaven right now through the laughter of a child, the kind word of a friend, or the full belly of a starving child? Likewise, does hell exist only in the afterlife, or is hell invading earth here and now, through acts of hatred and violence?

2. If you spend your life consumed by greed, hatred, and self centeredness, and then heaven fully invaded earth through the return of Jesus, and love finally won out, wouldn't that be hell for you? To paraphrase something Rob Bell said, "Maybe in that case, the flames of heaven would be much hotter than the flames of hell." Interesting thought. Or do you think that somehow the character of greed that had been formed through your entire life would instantly change into love once you die? Maybe there is no heaven and no hell, just one reality that feels like heaven for some, and feels like hell for others, and the language of heaven and hell found in the Bible is simply the best way to describe what we will go through in the afterlife based on the choices we make during life. I'm reminded (somewhat cheesily) of Russel Crowe's quote (as Maximus) in Gladiator: What we do in life echoes in eternity.

3. Does Jesus pursue people even after they die? If not, what does, "Neither death, nor life...will be able to separate you from the love of God" (Romans 8:38,39) mean?

I'd love to hear your thoughts on these questions of mine.

Great quote

2006-01-18T19:10:00.000-08:00

"Let us not tire of preaching love, it is the force that will overcome the world. Let us not tire of preaching love. Though we see that waves of violence succeed in drowning the fire of Christian love, love must win out; it's the only thing that can." (p.7) -- Oscar Romero (The Violence of Love)

I found this quote on Wes's blog. Check it out -- he has some great posts. It makes me feel surrounded; the idea that love must win -- that it's the only thing that can -- makes me believe that it just might. Thanks, Wes.

The Gospel or Love?

2006-01-18T07:25:00.000-08:00

I was in uptown on Monday having a cigar with my friend Zach, and afterwards I met a guy named Tiny. He was anything but. As I was walking from the Tobacco shop to my car, Tiny asked me (a little nervously) if I would like to hear a poem. He explained that he was homeless and that if I had a little money to spare, he could sing me a song or perform a poem. I told him that I'd love to hear a poem.

"The gospel or love?" He asked. "Do you want to hear a love poem, or a poem about the gospel?"

I smiled a little and asked my new friend Tiny if there was a difference between the gospel and love.

"Well, no, there isn't. But most people think there is. So, what would you like -- the gospel or love?"

I heard both of them, and they were great. And there is no difference between love and the gospel. Just in case you were wondering.

Questions about Salvation

2006-01-13T16:42:00.000-08:00

Let's assume for the sake of this argument that we agree that salvation only comes through Jesus. I realize this is not what everybody believes, not even everybody who reads this blog. But let's suppose we all agree on this at least for the next paragraph.

The next question that would come up regarding salvation is this: If Jesus is the only way that someone is "saved," (I know, I know, it's a weird term), does that person need to know that Jesus is the one saving them? In other words, can Jesus "save" someone without them knowing about Jesus of Nazareth?

Before you rattle off a few Bible verses that might prove your point (or mine), you might want to consider some relatively famous people who never knew of Jesus: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Esther, Rahab, etc. Almost forgot David. The list goes on. These people never knew Jesus. They never thought about Jesus. And they were not Christians. If those people aren't "saved," I'm packing my handbasket right now and calling it a life.

We're back to our question: Can someone be saved by Jesus these days without knowing of Jesus?

Rose Bowl

2006-01-04T21:18:00.000-08:00

If you missed the Rose Bowl tonight, you missed the best football game of my lifetime. Right now, there are 19 seconds left, and Texas just went ahead by one point. Vince Young has 250+ yards passing AND 200 yards rushing. Reggie Bush looks like a small boy comapred to Vince Young. You gotta love football.

Be Kind to Your Disastrous Self...

2005-12-27T06:34:00.000-08:00

I am enjoying Plan B immensely. One of the lines that struck me is the subject to this post. When I am intentional enough to actually listen to the voices in my head, which bang and clamour like too many pans in the same drawer, I am not surprised that the voices are not nice. They're accusatory.

"You eat too much."
"You aren't ever going to get that sermon done, and when you do, it'll be no good because you're too shallow."
"You're extraordinary in your ability to be a bad husband. It's like you're actually trying to be an asshole."
"Everyone knows that you're faking your way through your job, but they'll soon find out that you're tired, incompetent, and you don't deserve it."

When I think about what might be helpful to hear from the voices, it sounds a lot like things that might come from the mouth of my old dog, Daisy (if she could have talked, which frankly would have been immensley helpful), with whom I grew up.

"I am overjoyed to see you. In fact, I'm so happy that my bladder is currently malfunctioning. I'm embarrassed, but I'm too happy that you're here to even care."
"You are the most important person in the world to me. You're an expert scratcher, you're no slouch on a walk, and you are a great spooner.
"I can't wait to focus all of my attention on you. You're full of clever things to say, and I'll do anything to hear you."

I think we would all do well to be extra kind to our disastrous selves these days, especially after what was probably an over-indulgent week of carbohydrates, sugar, and more presents than we needed (I think I took nine trips from my car to my house to get them all in).

My wife, one of the wisest people I know, says that the most important thing that we need from God is to know that we are loved exactly as we are. When we are especially unkind to ourselves, I believe it simply shows how we assume God sees us.

Maybe this is the first and greatest sin.

Today...

2005-12-24T11:39:00.000-08:00

Today, there will be millions of people all over the world making their way to church. Some will go because it's what they do every year, on Christmas eve. Some will go because it's what they do every week. Some will go because it's what they do every day.

And Jesus will look at each and every one of those people as if they're his only child. Jesus' name means: God with us; and God will help. It doesn't mean: God will help those who show up, who make the grade, who clean themselves up. It certainly doesn't mean God will help those who help themselves. It doesn't even mean that God helps only those who show up for church on Christmas eve. God will help. God with us. Every one of us.

In this terrible, messed up world full of hate and grief and sorrow, God shows up to be with us, to help us. All of us.

Thank God.

Funny reactions

2005-12-23T07:11:00.000-08:00

Plan B sat on the small table in my office at work which holds my lamp and a stack of funny flash cards made for people like me who are over thirty and not hip. In the last two days, two people noticed the book and had an audible reaction. "Oooh," one of them said, as if the book gave off the stench of eggs gone bad. "Do you like her?" "I love Anne Lamott," I barked. "Don't you?" "I find her angry." this person told me. I do too -- that's what I like about her. Is angry bad? Does it mean you haven't processed enough?

Another person looked at it and simply scrunched up his face and shook his head from side to side. "Don't like her." he told me without falter. He didn't touch it -- didn't want to go near it.

That's okay. I actually felt a sort of pride that I would like, even love, an author that other people find as distasteful as that moment when you realize that you've stepped on dog shit. Maybe that's one of the things that I like about Anne Lamott -- she's messy, but not in that evangelical, "I'm messy because that's what the kids like these days" way. She's actually messy. She uses the words fuck and shit in her book repeatedly, and I bought this book in my church's bookstore. She makes me somehow feel a bit more normal. Those other writers (the ones that try to find a formula for what works and sells) make me feel like I've just put a tie on.

She's the kind of Christian who would say, "Happy Holidays" this time of year and find that it doesn't threaten her spirituality or her convictions. She would be saying it for people who don't celebrate Christmas because she's respecting them, and because, for a second, it doesn't have to be about herself. Incidentally, Christians who get all worked up over the fact that "we can't even say Merry Christmas anymore!" have seriously missed the point. Get over it.

It's a great book so far.

Plan B

2005-12-21T08:11:00.000-08:00

One of my friends (a self professed non-Christian) recommended a book to me last Friday night. She told me that after reading this book, she is "almost" a Christian. I laughed to myself as I wondered how I would classify myself. It's Anne Lamott's Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. The following are the first few lines of chapter one.

"On my forty-ninth birthday, I decided that all of life was hopeless, and I would eat myself to death. These are desert days. Better to go out by our own hands than to endure slow death by scolding at the hands of the Bush administration. However, after a second cup of coffee, I realized that I couldn't kill myself that morning -- not because it was my birthday but because I'd promised to get arrested the next day."

I am sitting down to read it right now. My posts in the next week or so will most certainly center around this book.

Want to read along with me?

Things I love...

2005-12-18T11:43:00.000-08:00

1. A great book and a big cup of espresso.
2. My wife's chocolate cake.
3. My friend Stefan's laugh. And that ugly stye that he currently has on his left eye.
4. My friend Reid's football prowess.
5. My friend Lindsey's fierceness about what she really believes.
6. My friend Zach's love of reading and learning from a non-American perspective.
7. Football. The Vikes are losing 10-3 right now, they've had 10 penalties and two turnovers, I started Brad Johnson in the first week of fantasy playoffs and he has less than two points after the first half, and I still love it.
8. Monday morning conversations with my team.
9. My friends Andy & Steph, and how silly they are. We go over to their house every once in a while on Thursday nights, and we laugh. A lot.
10. Running. I haven't always loved running, and I don't love every run. But if you told me I could never run again, I might shoot somebody.
11. My wife. Period. She's the bomb.
12. Speaking. I do. That may sound weird. I like to speak. I'm speaking tonight.
13. The movie "Legends of the Fall." I think it might be my favorite movie ever.

I also love Christmas, time off to chill without leaving town, a great cigar (even a mediocre one is enjoyable), and a great movie.

Fun Stuff

2005-12-07T19:57:00.000-08:00

This morning, Zach and I got to meet 15 or 16 very interesting high school seniors from St. Paul Academy, and we had a blast. Our task was to "present" Christianity to this World Religions Class. To get it started, we asked them to write down one word describing what they think of when they hear the word "Christianity." Some of the things that they wrote down on their post-it notes are as follows:

* intolerant
* Jesus
* Love
* Colonial Imperialism
* Church
* Community
* Crazy (that was Zach's)

I got a chance to share a small portion of my story, and then we spent about 30 minutes just interacting, mostly hearing their questions and trying to answer them. We centered around Jesus' commandment to love God and love others as the central piece of Christianity that somehow we have lost. After interacting about love for a while, they asked some great questions. Some of their questions were:

"Do you really love your enemies?"
" How do you treat people who believe differently than you? Are you really loving them if you don't think they're right?"
"What is your definition of love?"
"Isn't loving everybody kind of wishy-washy? I mean, if you say you love everybody, can you really love anybody?"
"How can you really love someone if you are trying to convert them?"

It was fascinating to be with these bright, curious students. I would have loved to have spent 2 hours with them. Their teacher, Mr. Danielson, was extraordinary. You could tell that the students loved him. He is a self-professed agnostic. When one of the students were pressing us to know exactly how we knew that Jesus was actually God, amidst our fumbling for any kind of an answer, he whispered under his breath, "faith." I don't think anyone else heard him. I did. I would love to spend some time learning from this man. I hope he enjoyed the class as much as I did.

Questions and Answers

2005-12-03T05:11:00.000-08:00

Next Wednesday, a friend and I have been invited to sit with 15 high school students from St. Paul Academy who are in a World Religions Class for a "Q and A." They've had Hindus, Buddhists, Jews, and now we're coming in to represent Christianity.

After talking with one of the teachers, I came to understand that these students have exceedingly low expectations about this Wednesday. They feel as though they've heard it all before about Christianity -- and none of them are buying it.

I am very excited about Wednesday. I am going to start by giving them a 3 x 5 card, and I'll ask them to write down one word that represents how they feel about Christianity, and then we're going to talk about that. I'll write down my word as well. Then, on the other side, I'll ask them what word would have to represent Christianity for them to even consider being a Christian, and we'll discuss that.

What one word represents how you feel about Christianity these days?

Here's mine: Hijacked.

There was once this movement of people dedicated to sharing life with each other - food, posessions, laughter. They were known by their generosity to strangers, and their tenacious belief in a prophet named Jesus. This movement of people still exists. It's my friend Aaron, a recovering alcoholic who went from deciding to die, to deciding to raise $1,000 so that homeless people in Minneapolis could eat. It's my friend Zach, who spent his entire week helping people with manual labor. It's my friend Spencer, whose love for his homosexual friends lets them know that there is One who loves them without limit.

The problem is that Christianity has been connected too much recently with politics, with taking stands against people and things, with boycotting. The world is pretty clear on what (and who) Christians are standing against, and the list gets longer every day. If that's what being a Christian is, I'm not one.

Thank God for Aaron, Zach, and Spencer.

Jesus promoting violence?

2005-11-16T07:17:00.000-08:00

I got a pretty interesting book for my birthday called Understanding the Difficult Words of Jesus by David Bivin and Roy Blizzard. The premise is that to understand Jesus' weird words, you have to go back to the Hebraic idioms with which he taught in order to make any sense out of it, because the Greek in the New Testament that was translated into the English Bibles that we read was actually first written in Hebrew.

Lately, I've found the passage in Matthew 11:12 where it says, "And from the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of Heaven suffers violence, and violent men take it by force" to be a bit weird considering Jesus' other teachings about violence. The authors in this book interpret this passage as follows:

An old rabbinic interpretation of Matthew 11:12 takes us back to Micah 2:13, which says,

"I will gather all of you, Jacob; I will collect the remnant of Israel. I will put them all together like sheep in a fold, like a flock inside its pen. It will be noisy and crowded with people. The breach maker (poretz) goes through before them. They they break out. Passing through the gate, they leave by it. Their king passes through before them, their Lord at their head."

This passage refers to an idiom (poretz) about shepherds, who would lock sheep into a small, confined space overnight by constructing a rock wall against a side of a hill in order to keep them safe. In the morning, he makes a "breach" in the rock wall, so that the sheep can come out. The shepherd steps through the "gate" and the sheep follow closely behind. Because they've been cooped up all night, they rush out, further destroying parts of the rest of the wall, and sometimes even injuring each other. Finally, they burst out into open spaces, following closely after the shepherd.

Jesus, in Matthew 11:12 is hinting at this popular rabbinic teaching, which everyone in the Jewish world would instantly understand. Instead of talking about the kingdom of God coming with violence (done by its proponents), it is actually talking about the Kingdom of God "bursting forth" because of Jesus and the way that he has made. It is so attractive that people are jostling each other to break out of the cooped up spaces in which they have been living, and to break out into the free, open spaces that Jesus is leading them to. It is also a picture of the Kingdom of God coming all around us, unstoppable.

The parallel passage to Matthew 11:12 is Luke 16:16, which says, "The Law and the Prophets were proclaimed until John. Since that time, the good news of the kingdom of God is being preached, and everyone is forcing his way into it."

It kind of makes you wonder what else we've been potentially reading all wrong.

Dangerous...

2005-11-05T06:54:00.000-08:00

When I try to pay attention to what makes me angry, at the top of the list lately is when people insist that Jesus was a robotic humanoid, devoid of all emotion. I believe their argument goes something like this: "If Jesus felt fear, he wasn't fully God, then, because God doesn't fear anything. If Jesus was lonely, he must not have been in perfect union with the Father, because if he was, he would never have felt lonely. If Jesus wasn't completely omniscient, then his credibility as God is tarnished."

I believe that kind of thinking is actually dangerous. If you cannot embrace Jesus as a human being, you cannot hope to become like him. Even worse, you'll always keep him at arms' length. For example, if Jesus really knew one day that a woman was going to come up and touch his cloak, and power would leave him, and if he knew everything about that woman, why wouldn't he have sought her out to heal her face to face? Because he wanted to see her faith? Because he wanted to teach others something about faith? If he really knew every single thing that was going to happen during every single moment of every single day of his life, don't you think the writers of the gospels would have included this in their accounts of him? "Jesus, knowing full well that a woman was going to touch his cloak, acted surprised when it happened, because he wanted to teach us about faith. What a master teacher Jesus was!" "Jesus, fully knowing that a furious storm was going to come up, actually fell asleep before it came, and stayed asleep during it, until we woke him up! He wanted to see if we would try to calm the storm ourselves, I guess. When he finally did it, he seemed a little disappointed that we didn't do it ourselves. But, he knew we weren't going to, so I guess it's another teaching moment for him. What a master teacher Jesus was!" Do you see how this kind of thinking makes Jesus out to be almost paranoid? And that you have to explain away most of what he said as bizarre teaching moments?

I know I get a little too fired up about this...but I really believe that it's essential to embrace the humanity of Jesus if you are actually going to love him. And, you need to know that the way he lived is actually possible for you and I to live -- fully depending on the same God that Jesus did. He didn't go up and spend all of those nights praying so that someday, someone would write, "You need to spend time alone with God, because Jesus did. He taught us that." He spend nights with his Father because he had to -- it was essential to his well being. This doesn't detract from his divinity, it adds so much to it, because it means that the God we believe in would go so far as to empty himself of everything just so we could be full of him. It's amazing.

Rant is complete.

Seventh Grade

2005-11-02T07:30:00.000-08:00

When I was going into seventh grade, my family moved from Southern California to Belgium. I did not want to go, and I was very anxious about making new friends at my new school. But, after just a few days, I met another seventh grade guy named Brian, who had also just moved from the States. We became fast friends -- until I met some guys who were more popular. Suddenly, without any words, I realized that I had to make a choice. The unsaid seventh grade status code mysteriously allowed me to jump up a rung or two, but not Brian. Brian was a little overweight, he wasn't very good looking, and not at all athletic. In the world of seventh grade, those external measures can deliver you or destroy you.

I chose the popular guys.

I still feel terrible about it. I never explained anything to Brian. I just stopped calling, and when he approached me, I would make excuses until he just stopped talking to me. Eventually, he made some other friends, and then he moved back to the States after 8th grade.

I wonder if these kinds of situations were what Jesus was thinking about when he told his followers, "Do not judge."

Ten things that you need to know about me...

2005-10-31T17:16:00.000-08:00

Every once in a while, I read these things on people's blogs, and I think they're actually a bit narcissistic, and a lot arrogant to think that anyone would care. But I thought I would do one anyway. Since most of you who read my blog know me, I thought it would be interesting for you to know some things that you might not guess about me.

10. This morning, I didn't like the way my hair looked after I styled it with too much product. So, I wet my hair and started over. The whole process took like 10 minutes. I wish I was just one of those guys who didn't care, but I'm not. I'm quite vain.

9. When someone says something critical of me or a program that I run, I take it really seriously and obsess about it for longer than I need to. I think I'm getting better about this, but I still obsess too much.

8. I really want to write a book someday. In fact, sometimes I fantasize about writing full time. But then I don't blog for over a week and I wonder if I want to be a writer more than I actually want to write.

7. I still like the Vikings, and watch them every Sunday, even though they suck.

6. I smoked cigarettes in Europe when I was there this summer mostly because I thought it was cool to do so.

5. I get up very early in the morning every Tuesday to spend some time with 3 guys. Every Tuesday. I love these guys. I'd do anything for them, and I really mean that.

4. I will celebrate my 10th anniversary with my wife in about a month and a half. I can't imagine life without her. She's an amazing woman. Most of you knew that already, though.

3. Someday, I think I might want to start a church. I don't think it'll be an intense, flashy church. Just a community of people who actually try to love each other. Not a "different" church that tries really hard to be different. That scheme feels a little tired.

2. I am actually a pretty big introvert. I get very sketchy when I haven't had any time alone. Sometimes, I feel very awkward with people. Sometimes, when I'm sitting at Caribou waiting for them to show up, I secretly wish they will stand me up, because it's awkward to keep a conversation going.

1. One of my greatest hopes is to someday be a father. I think I'll be a pretty good one.

Great post on Jake's Well

2005-10-27T07:12:00.000-07:00

Check out Jake's recent post. It's quite thought provoking, and should get a hearty discussion going. Sorry for my absence from the blog world this week. Honestly, I've sat down at my computer several times to write something, but my mind and my fingers weren't feeling the connection.

I'm curious: I'm speaking at a college event next week, and I'd love to hear some thoughts from those of you who are college students. What kind of a message would you most want to hear?

A Parable about Two Differing Paths...

2005-10-19T17:19:00.000-07:00

Two people are standing miles apart looking at the same fixed point. Person A travels a completely different road than Person B, but they arrive at the same destination. Upon arriving, they began talking about how they got there. After just a few minutes, they were furious at each other, each insisting that the other one came the wrong way. They each constructed an elaborate map which clearly set out the correct way to get to the fixed point, and they traveled back down the road that the other person had come down, passing out maps to travelers, telling them that they were on the wrong path. Neither Person A nor Person B ever got back to the fixed point because they were so intent on making sure other people did not travel the wrong way.

Have you ever done that?

Your input wanted...

2005-10-18T16:30:00.000-07:00

Which statement most closely reflects what you believe about the Bible?

A. "I believe that the Bible is a "guidebook for living" for humans. It contains answers to the problems that we face while here on earth. It is absolutely God's Word, and it doesn't have any errors in it's original documents. I find comfort in the fact that I can trust in the reliability of the Bible."

B. "I think that the Bible is the story of God's creation of humanity, humanity's rejection of God, and God's plan to redeem humanity. It's filled with really weird stories that sometimes don't make sense, but they all point to a God who radically pursues all people. I believe it's God's Word -- but it's purpose is not to give me answers to all of life's problems. It's purpose is to show God's character."

C. "I think that the Bible is an interesting document filled with great stories -- some of which happened, and some of which didn't. But whether or not the stories actually happened doesn't matter as much to me -- they still speak of God, of values, and of how we should live. To argue about whether or not the Bible has errors is missing the point."

D. "I don't think the Bible has much relevance to my life today. It seems to have too many contradictions for me to believe that it's actually divinely inspired. Besides, wasn't it just a group of men in the 1600's who decided what books would be in the canon? How do we know that they picked the right books? The Bible may contain truth, but it certainly doesn't hold the corner of the market on truth."

Feel free to make up your own statement if A-D doesn't quite capture what you feel. But, for the sake of discussion, indicate which statement most closely reflects what you do believe about the Bible.

In Between Books...

2005-10-12T06:32:00.000-07:00

I am somewhat of a book junkie. Sometimes, I go to bookstores just to be around them. As an introvert, they're the perfect friend: When you want them to talk to you, you just open them up, and you can abruptly shut them when you're done. You can throw them across the room if you disagree with them (you can't do that with people without getting arrested, and frankly, most people are too big for me to throw anyway). They don't get jealous if you spend more time with another book if you get sick of them. (This is a morbid train of thought. I do have real friends that I actually talk to and don't throw across the room. Unless they're quite a lot smaller than I am).

Every once in a while, I find myself "in between books." I roam around the house, languidly searching for something to read. This is when I most often crack open "U.S. News and World Report." Someone keeps getting it for me as a gift subsrciption, and I know it's good for me to read (probably), but I just don't find it that interesting. If I'm especially desperate, I'll find myself sitting at our small kitchen table reading the back of the cereal box. This is when I know I'm in the frantic throws of withdrawl, and need a fix badly. It's kind of like when you're standing in front of the fridge, hungry for something (it's often not food, people, let's be honest), but not knowing what, so after like 47 minutes, when the little light in the fridge burns out, that's your signal to move on.

This post is for people who are "in between books." Here are some books that have been especially wonderful for me lately, so you don't have to spend all of your time rummaging around your house, reading U.S. News and World Report, or the back of the cereal box.

Life of Pi, by Yann Martel
An amazing book about a boy, a trajedy that involves a boat, the wide open sea, and a tiger. But the story isn't really about the tiger and the boat. It's about God, and how the story of God is told to a very diverse world.

Blue Like Jazz, by Don Miller
Yes, it's that really famous blue book that everybody has been reading. But it's actually really good. I love the way he writes. He is the first author that has made me think that I can actually be a writer someday. I only wanted to throw him across the room a couple of times.

The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini
Another book that you'll see a bunch of people reading on airplanes. It's a story about two boys growing up in Afganistan in the mid 70's. It's about loss and redemption. It's one of the best stories I've ever read, and I didn't throw it across the room once.

Velvet Elvis, by Rob Bell
Rob Bell is one of those guys that I just resonate with. Velvet Elvis is his short theological treatise, and it will probably tick you off a little bit if you tend to think in black and white terms. I think it's great.

I know a beautiful girl...

2005-10-06T11:27:00.000-07:00

I know this beautiful girl. She's quirky, funny, intelligent, and very easy on the eyes. Her smile is infectious, she knows how to listen, and she has a lot of friends. There's just one problem: she is convinced that she is not beautiful. She looks at her body and hates it. She is certain that everybody sees the imperfections that she sees, and she is trying everything to change how she looks -- to become beautiful. When she becomes beautiful, somebody will love her in a way that will take away her loneliness. When this happens, she will feel complete.

I know this great guy. He's weird, but in that cool way where everybody wants to be like him. He's humble, and quiet, but in a strong way. He's great to have a one-on-one with, because you get the sense that he actually listens to you. There's only one problem: he can't stop looking at porn. He wants to stop, but at this point in his life, he's not dating anyone, so while he knows that it's not the best thing in the world, he thinks it's not really hurting anyone, so the urgency to stop is not quite as high as it could be.

Imagine that this girl meets this guy. Suddenly, everybody's problems are solved -- this wonderful guy will certainly see beauty in this lonely girl, and convince her that she is beautiful. This beautiful girl will be absolutely enough for this guy, and he'll stop wanting to look at porn, because she will satisfy him in every way.

Wrong.

Do the math, and you'll realize why 2 out of every 3 marriages end in divorce. Can we do something about this? I'm tired of hearing beautiful girls cry about how ugly they feel, moving from guy to guy to end their loneliness. I'm tired of seeing young men get pulled out in the rip tide of pornography, unable to see the damage that it will inflict on the women who love them.

Many guys go towards pornography because they believe a lie -- for a few seconds, you can be a man -- by winning a woman who will never ask anything from you. These guys become enraged because the lie never turns out to be true. Sex addicts are some of the angriest people around, because they are constantly disappointed. The trap snaps shut when they go back to pornography for relief from the disappointment they feel.

Many women go towards food because they believe a lie -- for a few seconds, they can be full. The aching loneliness inside can be subdued with something they can control. These women become full of shame because soon they realize that they can't control food, and it is never enough. The trap snaps shut when they go towards food instead of facing their loneliness, because it's the only thing that brings comfort.

Can we start telling the truth about the fact that when we fall in love with someone, we're asking them to validate us in a way that they are completely unable to do? Can we start telling the truth to each other so that when we fall in love with someone, we can actually give love instead of demand validation?

Who's the real disciple?

2005-10-06T07:51:00.000-07:00

My friend Todd (the big guy in the back of the picture) lives in South Africa and meets all kinds of interesting people every day. He recently posted a story that both angers me and thrills me. Here's the beginning of his post:

In the South African context, the role of pastor is very elevated. I first became aware of this when I was initially house hunting and the realtors showed us old homes that all had special “sitting rooms” by the front door for their pastors. It struck me as odd to see that pastors had their own room when they would call on people. Obviously, this was primarily a white-culture phenomenon, but the general respect and elevation is still given to pastors today. And as a pastor, I fear this type of power to be given to any individual for the potential misuse of this role. And misused it is…all you have to do is ask Willie... Read the rest of the story here.

A little rain...

2005-10-04T20:45:00.000-07:00

Cats and dogs? I'm not sure what they have to do with rain, or where that phrase originated, but it is raining pretty significantly here in St. Louis Park. I think we've gotten about 5 inches of rain in the last 6 hours. Because of this wonderful gift, I discovered that a 2nd story closet storm window was leaking (read 3 inches of rain in the window well), and dripping water down through the wall, over our double doors in our kitchen, and onto our wood floor. Thanks to my superb handyman skills and sick ability to call someone who actually knows something about homes, I temporarily stopped the leak in the storm window.

A few minutes later, still aglow with my victory over mother nature's fury, while attempting to watch "The Mask of Zorro" with my wife, I noticed that we were getting water in our basement. Not a ton, but the seepage factor was definitely making a mockery of our terrible rug which covers even worse laminate tile. Seventeen wet towels later, the water is still slowly seeping in. When you google search "sump pump" on a night like this, all the world simultaneously laughs at you. I can still hear them.

It's weird, but just a little bit of water in our 1938 basement has got me feeling a little shaky, as if my foundation has moved a little bit. I don't like that feeling -- it's unsettling.

I can't even imagine how people are feeling who have lost their homes entirely. People whose homes still have four feet of water in them, weeks after the hurricane. I feel selfish that I freak out over a little water in my basement. I have a home, one that is not likely to be destroyed in this little flash flood. It's amazing how self centered I can be.

My top ten memories from the race...

2005-10-03T15:57:00.000-07:00

10. Peeing in a bush, unknowingly right in front of my friends Brooke, Katie, Anna, Kristy, Jeremy, and Lindsey, right by Calhoun at mile 6.

9. Hearing an overly intense spectator/professional motivational speaker tell us (runners) that we were running with "incredible class" at mile 16. At mile 16, we were running with anything but class.

8. At the start, hearing the head announcer let the wave two runners go too early, then yell, "Stop! Stop! Come back! You're not supposed to go yet! Come back!"

7. Having a guy behind me say, "Gosh, Steve, you have quite a following" after the millionth person had yelled to me, "Go Steve!!" I was wearing a piece of tape with my name on it. It was so great to have so many people that I didn't even know yell out my name. I was Bono for a day.

6. Watching Susan Schmidt scream, "I'm obsessed with you!!" to runners who she'd never met before.

5. Seeing my wife and my 5 year old neice Halle on miles 4, 17, and the finish.

4. Turning onto Summit, which meant that I only had 5.2 miles to go.

3. Passing a 75+ year old man on mile 23, which meant that he was going to finish a marathon in under 4:00, as a 75+ year old. Amazing.

2. Crossing the finish line with a time of 3:48:05, on a day where I was in pain for basically every step of the way.

1. When the volunteer who put the "finisher" medal around my neck saw my shirt (which said, "Love Wins"), he smiled knowingly, and said, "Nice shirt, Steve."

It was a great day.

Marathon...

2005-09-30T13:26:00.000-07:00

This is the shirt I'll be wearing as I run the Twin Cities Marathon this Sunday. So, if you're planning on being somewhere along the course, look for me and scream when you see me. I'll let you know how it goes.

One of my friends asked me the other day why I run marathons...to be honest, I'm not sure. It might have something to do with the paint chips that I ate as a child. I usually experience the gamut of emotions during the race, and I'm sure this race will be no exception. Come and watch!

Helpful stuff...

2005-09-28T06:52:00.000-07:00

I ran across the following "foundational truths of my life with God" in a book. What do you think?

1. God is always present and active in my life, whether or not I see God.
2. Coming to recognize and experience God's presence is learned behavior; I can cultivate it.
3. My task is to meet God in this moment.
4. I am always tempted to live "outside" this moment. When I do that, I lose my sense of God's presence.
5. Sometimes God seems far away for reasons I do not understand. These moments, too, are opportunities to learn.
6. Whenever I fail, I can always start again right away.
7. No one knows the full extent to which a human being can experience God's presence.
8. My desire for God ebbs and flows, but God's desire for me is constant.
9. Every thought carries a "spiritual charge" that moves me a little closer or a little farther away from God.
10. Every aspect of my life -- work, relationships, hobbies, errands -- is of immense and genuine interest to God.
11. My path to experiencing God's presence will not look quite like anyone else's.
12. Straining and trying too hard do not help.

Let it rip

2005-09-27T15:50:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been afraid to be completely honest with God about what you really think and feel? One of my friends has been anguishing over issues of justice lately, and her conversations with God have included some language that would get her kicked out of most Christian circles. My thought is that you should let it rip. Yell. Cry. Sit in silence. Be speechless. Do anything other than offer some sorry, pre-rehearsed, automatic prayer that means nothing. And, what's the deal with starting prayers with "Dear Jesus" anyway? Who talks like that?

Tell me what you think of this story:

A man had two sons. He went up to the first and said, "Son, go out for the day and work at the vineyard.' "The son answered, "I don't want to.' Later on he thought better of it and went. "The father gave the same command to the second son. He answered, "Sure, glad to.' But he never went.

"Which of the two sons did what the father asked?" They said, "The first."

Jesus said, "Yes, and I tell you that crooks and whores are going to precede you into God's kingdom. John came to you showing you the right road. You turned up your noses at him, but the crooks and whores believed him. Even when you saw their changed lives, you didn't care enough to change and believe him.

It seems to me that God honors honest responses, no matter how rude they may seem at the time. Sometimes, the people that sound like they're the farthest away from God end up the closest, because you never can tell what they might be thinking about after the fact. And, sometimes the ones who sound the closest to God are actually the farthest away from him. So let's be careful about how we categorize people.

My friend Jake posted a great thought about conversion that you should read. I think it's somehow related to this thought. You might have to read it a few times, though. Jake is not your average blogger.

God, Disasters, and Glib Answers...

2005-09-22T13:44:00.000-07:00

One of my friends recently posted a great question on his blog - he asked what people thought about God's role in natural disasters. Here was my response. You can read his original question and other people's responses at Jim's blog.

Asking if God causes natural disasters is missing the point. In my opinion, people that argue that God causes bad things to happen (whether it be natural disasters, rape, etc) are operating under a "slippery slope" argument - if God does not cause them, then he is not ultimately sovereign, or in control at all. My question back is simply: Given the craziness of this world, with gang members raping children in the bathrooms at the superdome during one of our country's worst disasters, how can you insist that God is in control of every situation? How does that actually comfort you? It makes God out to be a monster to me.

God does not control people. He also does not control events. This would be the opposite of love, which God claims to be. Certainly, he has a will, and he puts certain things in motion, but in my opinion he relies on the participation of those who claim to follow Him to carry these plans out. Think about it -- isn't this how Jesus started the church? Because of love, he limits himself in this area. This gives humans tremendous responsibility and "say-so" in the universe. It also does not allow us to throw up our hands and glibly say, "Well, his ways are not our ways, he must have had a reason." It makes me crazy to hear some people blame the recent natural disasters on God, yet not have a better reason than, "Well, I guess that's why God is God and I'm not."

The point is not to rest in the fact that "God is in control." The point is to believe in God's love and respond to it by parterning with God to do what his will is here on earth. I realize that this flies against some theories that "God doesn't need us -- he will get his deal done, no matter what." I think he has chosen to limit himself to partnering with us because of his love for us. This does not make him less sovereign, it just radically moves the boundaries of what our responsibility in this world actually is.

Great Quote

2005-09-19T13:19:00.000-07:00

"Heaven have mercy on us all -- Presbyterians and pagans alike -- for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and sadly need mending."

-- Herman Melville (from Moby Dick)

Can we admit that we actually are cracked, that we don't have all the answers, and that we desperately need to simply be loved by a God who is big enough to handle us? Maybe we might start loving each other, look past each other's faults and the areas where we disagree. Maybe we'd find unity.

Maybe we could even start loving ourselves.

Maybe we could even love God.

A friend of mine once challenged a group of us to start every day with an honest prayer: "God, I don't love you and I don't love people. I can't. I'm not capable of it. But you are. So, I would like to trade my inability to love with your ability to love. Amen."

I find that prayer incredibly freeing.

Bankrupt...

2005-09-16T13:45:00.000-07:00

Northwest Airlines is bankrupt. I was reading all of the details in the Star Tribune as I was waiting for an appointment at Caribou Coffee the other day. I had ample time to read, since I was waiting for a person who was scheduled to show up next week at that time. I am sharp.

During my run this morning, while I was thinking about Northwest Airlines (don't even ask), a thought flashed through my mind: What if everyone who went bankrupt (emotionally, morally, or financially) had to have their picture on the front cover, and their story put in print?

When famous people's faces adorn our newspapers, and there is a scandalous story to read, most of us smile knowingly, thinking that it was just a matter of time for that person. We might even feel a little better about ourselves. Then, we grab our coffee, and go on our way.

What if one of our friends faces made it on the cover? Would we be surprised? Would we even know that they were close to bankruptcy? I hate to even ask this, but would a part of us feel better about ourselves, knowing that at least someone else is beneath us, even if it is one of our friends?

Or, would we drop everything, call them up, and sit with them? Would we listen to them? I think if we did, we'd be doing the right thing.

I'm not sure why I am thinking about this. I think it's important for us to know where our friends are at in these areas -- emotionally, morally, financially. I also think it's important to feel compassion for the famous faces whose lives are on display, especially when they're bankrupt in any way.

If love is really going to win, we have to notice the little things.

Queequeg

2005-09-14T21:48:00.000-07:00

Wow. I haven't blogged for almost a week -- it's been insane at work, I feel like I've hardly seen my wife, and I just got back from consuming roughly 2,000 calories at Friday's, and it's almost midnight. Those are healthy decisions.

For the few seconds between crawling into bed and passing out every night, I have been reading Moby Dick. My favorite character so far is Queequeg. For the seven of you that haven't read it, like me, Queegueg is a harpooner, he's got weird tatoos all over his body (including his face), and he doesn't speak english very well.

But, he loves well. He shares his tomohawk/pipe with the narrator (Ishmael) from the moment he sees him. After one night shacked up in the same room together as strangers, Queequeg pulls out a bag of coins, dumps them out on the table, and separates them into two equal piles. He then gives Ishmael one of the piles, and tells him that from then on, they are knit together. After one night of talking together. This is all the money that he has.

Queequeg worships a small idol every night. He even spends an entire day fasting, and staying completely still for 24 hours. Queequeg's foil is a very pious ship captain, who is always spouting off religious sayings and is frequently telling people what he thinks they ought to do, whether his opinion is asked for or not. He mentions God, Christ, and morality almost every sentence. He is boorish, insenstive, and most people shrink from his presence.

I am finding that I despise the pious man, and love Queequeg. The pious man believes all the right things, but lives all the wrong ways. Queequeg believes all the wrong things, yet lives all the right ways. Who, in the end, is right, and who is wrong?

Hope, Part Two...

2005-09-08T20:59:00.000-07:00

I have Tom Brady as the starting quarterback on my fantasy football team. With 9 minutes to go in the 4th quarter, Tom has 24 points for me. The best part about it is that the guy I'm playing against is Tom Brady's cousin. Sorry, Ben. Here's to hope that my fantasy squad might actually be good this year.

It was hard for me to look for hope today. It was a long day of work, attending 3 parents' meetings, and not really seeing the outside of my office for the better part of 12 hours (though not really getting all that much done), and I felt a little insulated.

I wish I had something more. Something touching. Something hopeful. I just don't have much today.

Hope, Part One

2005-09-07T21:42:00.000-07:00

It's 11:45pm, and I just got home. I met a guy in uptown named "Rohan McGregor" tonight. When he told me his name, I asked him, "You mean Rohan like from Lord of the Rings?" Indeed. He is the first guy I've ever met who is named after something from Lord of the Rings. He did the best Gollum impersonation I've ever heard. I'm not making this up -- I got his phone number if you want to call him and hear it. We were shooting a video, and he asked us what it was for. When we told him it was for our church, he asked us what "kind of Christians" we were: The regular kind or the kind that preaches at people. We laughed -- and said that hopefully we weren't the latter. Though, it makes me wonder: What's a regular kind of Christian?

Hope:

1. Earl Barthe, Ricky Mathieu, & Jadell Beard. These three middle aged men make up what they have called the "South Patrol." They live in New Orleans, and spend their days driving their boat through their old neighborhood, helping people who are still alive, and taking care of the many dead bodies that they are finding. "We're out here to protect our neighbors houses and to look out for them." And, speaking of their destroyed city, they say, "We're the ones who are going to build it back." That's hope, even if they're being evacuated.

2. 75 volunteer small group leaders. I got to speak to 75 adults from my church who have decided to give several hours every week this year to being with high school students. These people don't get paid. They don't get any press. They just love high school students, and they're making a difference. That's hope.

3. Late night dinner with Zach, Cory, and John. At the end of a very long day, it's great to be with friends like these, who make me laugh, talk about fantasy football with me, and make me feel like there are younger men out there who actually give a crap about becoming men. That's hope.

That's just day one. Can't wait for tomorrow.

Five Days...

2005-09-06T16:43:00.000-07:00

Because I've been feeling rather hope-free lately, and because I feel like it's generally easier and sexier for me to write about hopelessness rather than hopefulness, I am going to spend the next five days posting about my experiences with hope. I will write about things I see that make me smile. That make me feel like love might really win in the end. This means that I will have to look for hope.

Every day. For the next five days. Look for hope. I wonder if the looking will help me in the believing.

Stay tuned. Between today and tomorrow, I'd love to read about ways that you saw hope today.

God in Disguise...Again?

2005-09-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

I was having a great conversation with one of my friends last week who has not quite bought into the idea that Jesus actually is God. I think the issue for him is that he hears people bark out formulas for salvation with such automatic, non-feeling assuredness. We can say it between bites of a Big Mac. If we stop and think about it, even for a short time, it sounds ridiculous: The creator of the universe mysteriously impregnates a teenage virgin, and a part of that same creator is the offspring. This person (Jesus) lives a pretty long life without sinning, and his death somehow justifies a limitless (depending on your theology) number of people who believe in him (or, justifies everybody, depending on your theology). And, that this same creator/person rose from the dead. Let's not even start with the trinity: "Well, it's kind of like an egg...or water...or a house?"

We recite it in creeds and put it on tracts and are very sure that it's true. Most of us don't really even think about it, because we grew up believing these things. Most of us have never not believed in them.

I do believe those things: that Jesus is God, that his death on the cross releases me from sin, and that he rose again. But if I had lived in the time of Jesus, or even in the close generations that followed, I wonder how much more scandalous it would have seemed, and how much harder it would have been to believe it. God came to earth in disguise, in order to show the world that God loves them and wants to redeem them. Hardly anyone believed it was God at the time, much less that Jesus was the actual Messiah. God as a human? It was the definition of heresy at a time when people coudn't even mention, or write out, God's name. Now they can share a bowl of hummus with God? Scandal.

It makes me wonder: In this era where Jesus is so popular (he's hotly debated on blogs, on the cover of TIME magazine, and the President of the United States claims to have a personal relationship with him), what sorts of disguises might Jesus using these days to reach people who need to believe?

Can Jesus, remaining fully Jesus (and fully God), find people and redeem people and begin a relationship with people while in disguise? Would Jesus do that, in an era where his name (and those associated with his name) might not be very closely associated to his actual character?

If he could, what kinds of disguises do you think he might use?

Reactions, Part two

2005-09-01T15:32:00.000-07:00

I'm a little surprised that so many people responded to my last post. I especially loved the comment from my new friends at Discount Cat Furniture. It's sites like those that make our country great.

Perhaps when we see, in print, our unedited thoughts about certain people or ideologies, we can gain a better understanding of where we're at regarding loving people vs. judging them. Certainly, I have a ways to go in my ability to not judge some of the people on that list.

Another useful outcome of this exercise could be that it helps us see where we're genuinely disturbed -- and it might not be a bad thing to sit on those feelings for awhile. Sometimes, wild passion rises up in us because we are supposed to do something about it.

What makes you genuinely disturbed? Even angry? I will tread on dangerous ground here, but then again, what are blogs for?

One of the things that has gotten me increasingly angry over the past year or so is the marriage that seems to exist between the evangelical church and the current presidency. Certainly not all Bush-Backers act this way, but I am running into more and more Christian Bush Supporters that feel as though any kind of disagreement about the policies of the president is not only tantamount to political ignorance, but it is an abandonment of faith. Disagreeing with the president on any issue seems like it's the same thing as bad mouthing your pastor. Maybe it is.

On the other hand, I feel like non-Bush supporters were thrilled that Pat Robertson said what he did. That statement loaded several rounds into their semi-automatics, and they let the accusations fly. Not exactly love over judgment.

Here's my question: Can I be for something without demonizing something else? Can I vigrously fight for an issue, with passion and conviction, without making the other side out to be the devil? And if the other side has to be the devil, then how confident am I actually in what I am claiming to believe?

I believe I am not truly for something if the opposite of what I believe has to be knocked in the dirt and spat upon in order to legitimize what I believe.

Reactions...

2005-08-30T13:55:00.000-07:00

In the age of instant information and sound bytes, we've learned to process multiple layers of information at lightning speed. We can make judgment calls after seeing images, or even words, for just seconds.

I'd like to invite you to submit yourself to an exercise. Pull out a pen, and a piece of paper, and clear your mind. Then, write the first word that comes to your mind when you think of the following words, one by one. No editing. If you'd like to comment what your responses were, I'd love to read them.

1. Iraq
2. Michael Moore
3. tolerance
4. President Bush
5. Liberals
6. Pat Robertson
7. President Clinton
8. Christians
9. Muslims
10. Truth

The Table...

2005-08-27T09:52:00.000-07:00

Last night, I had the opportunity to share a meal with some friends -- some new friends and some very old friends. We shared the stories that make up our lives -- some which made us howl with laughter, some silencing us in deep reflection. It was wonderful. There's something about eating and drinking together that is incredibly bonding.

During this meal, one of my new friends shared with us an insight about the table mentioned in Psalm 23 that I had never heard before. When I have read, "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies," I guess I've never stopped to wonder what it actually could mean. If anything, I thought it was kind of a "nanny-nanny-boo-boo" gloat fest, where God sets me up with a great meal while my enemies sit starving by the sidelines, to show them that I was right and they were wrong.

Think about what happens around a meal. We share our stories. We look each other in the eye. We pass and receive food and drink. We invite each other into our homes. My friend's thought was that this passage is about Jesus being a reconciler -- he prepares a table for us to share with our enemies -- so that we will no longer be enemies. In the Arab culture in which this friend lives, there is a belief that you cannot sit around a table together and remain enemies. I can think of another meal that Jesus shared with at least one enemy. This meal was considered so important that Christian churches repeat it regularly and call it a sacrament.

In that spirit, I am trying to set up a meal with a specific person that I've never met before, yet because of this person's beliefs, I (ignorantly) consider them an enemy. I'll let you know how it goes if and when it actually happens.

I can't believe I actually wrote, "Nanny-nanny-boo-boo."

Does God's Existence Depend on the Bible?

2005-08-26T08:02:00.000-07:00

A fantastic conversation started as a result of my last post, and I want to continue it here. My friend Bruce raised the question, "Does God's existence depend on the Bible, or does the Bible's existence depend upon God?"

Another way to put it is this: Does God exist outside of the Bible? Let's not limit this to a theological conundrum that we can debate outside of our experience. In your life, is God real for you outside of what you read in the Bible? My friend Joshua posed this question: Why don't we first look to the person of Jesus to find God? My question to that is this: Where, then, should we look for Jesus?

Some people may say it's all one in the same: We do look to Jesus to find God, through the Bible. I agree: That is where we read about Jesus. The great question for me is this: Do I know Jesus apart from what I read about him in the Bible? Do you? Is my experience with Jesus limited to the Bible?

Before rushing to answer this one, think about it: I can read a great novel (like Beach Music) and feel like I really know one of the main characters. I can spend time thinking about that character, and I might even be able to predict what kind of movie that character would like, or where he would like to go for dinner. If it's written well enough, I might even be able to begin to think like that character. But that doesn't mean that I have a relationship with that character, because that character doesn't really exist. In the end, it's a figment of the writer's imagination that has become real only in my imagination.

Let me be clear: I believe that the events recorded in the Bible actually happened, and the story of the Bible is the true account of God's relationship with God's creation. I am not saying that the Bible is like any other book created in the mind of an author, that exists only in the mind of an author or reader.

What I am asking is this: Does my relationship with God exist because of truths that I read about a story in the Bible, or because Jesus of Nazareth still lives and is more than an amazing character in a great story (even one that is true)? Do I believe that Jesus' existence doesn't end with Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John? Does he actually still disciple people like me, offering scandalous grace and surprising people with new things that haven't happened before?

Some people may say that it's dangerous to look for Jesus outside of the Bible. I think it might be dangerous not to. I was once asked, "Do you believe in the Bible because of Jesus, or do you believe in Jesus because of the Bible?" I believe the Bible was given to us by God, and is true, because Jesus treated it that way.

This is fun, people.

Money is the answer for everything...

2005-08-24T17:23:00.000-07:00

Weird.

The Bible is weird, and it sometimes doesn't seem to add up. For example, Ecclesiastes 10:19 says, "A feast is made for laughter, and wine makes life merry, but money is the answer for everything."

I thought money was the root of all evil. Oh, wait, you're right: The love of money is the root of all evil. And didn't Jesus also say something like you can't serve money and God?

Some people may say, "Ahh, you just read it out of context. The original hebrew of 'everything' really means nothing." No, upon further review, it really seems to mean that the writer thinks that money is the answer for everything (keep in mind that this guy built a temple whose worth was the rough equivalent of Orange County).

Some people might say that Ecclesiastes is sort of an exception to the rule. Basically, it was written by a guy that was sleeping with roughly 1,000 women (but was the wisest man who ever lived). It's a different kind of writing. It's not meant to be taken completely seriously. It's one man's jaded journey and his ramblings shouldn't be taken as gold.

But it's in the Bible, isn't it?

Some people will say that even if the Bible has one little chink in it's armor, it should be completely thrown out -- it's a slippery slope towards destruction. If there is one brick that's a bit crumbly, the whole wall will fall down.

Two questions: (1) What do you do about this crumbly brick (Ecclesiastes 10:19)? (2) If the Bible has one bit of faulty teaching like this in it, should you throw it out?

Let's have some fun with this one.

Watch out when you're tired...

2005-08-21T19:45:00.000-07:00

I just got back from a great student leader retreat, where I got to be with some of the best high school students on the planet. I also got to be with my incredible friends with whom I have the privilege of working. But I am exhausted. The problem is that tomorrow I leave for another 2 day retreat. Ouch.

While cleaning out some of my emails after being gone for two weeks, I came across an email from someone who attached a letter that they had written to my supervisor about me. It was this person's perspective on an issue that we had dealth with a few months ago. It was pretty hurtful, and in my opinion, an inacurate portrayal of what actually happened.

I'm not really worried about the conversation that I'll have with my supervisor -- we have a good relationship. I am hurt and little angry. It's partially because I'm very tired, and partially because it hurts to get a letter like that. When I receive that kind of an attack, I usually react in one of two ways:

1. I get angry and want to defend myself. I want the other person's glaring faults to be gloriously revealed, while mine go unnoticed (or at least underplayed).

2. I get hurt and withdrawn. This might be even more destructive, because it shows that I am believing some lies about myself, rather than resting in the fact that someone else's opinion about me doesn't change who I am.

I wish I had thicker skin. I wish I could say that these things don't bother me that much. The truth is that they do. After reading the letter, I actually prayed. I prayed for God to give me the strength to not defend myself. I prayed for God to give me the strength to be present for my wife, who was about to come home after 24 hours of travelling. I prayed to be able to deal with it later, because I was so tired and was staring down the barrel of yet another two days of traveling.

What I didn't pray for is that I would learn how to genuinely love this person. Love seems to be the hardest when it needs to be directed at those who seem to deserve it the least. Yet maybe that's who needs it the most. Maybe when Jesus told me to love my enemies, it was because he knew that I'd never be truly free until I could actually do it.

I find myself a bumbling pilgrim on this journey towards loving God and others.

Euro Styles

2005-08-19T15:51:00.000-07:00

I'm back.

My final day included waking up at 4am, and catching a ride from Positano (which is way up in the hills, on the coast), to Naples, which is across the bay. White knuckling it seems like a tame way to describe the journey. I actually felt like I was in Crazy Taxi. An eighteen-wheeler fuel carrier (which was four cars ahead of us) passed a truck while attempting to manuever a blind near hair pin turn. Yet another case of wasted shorts, and early in the day.

Twenty-one hours later, I'm home, with piles of laundry to do before a student leader retreat which leaves tomorrow morning. I am now including pictures to my three previous posts, which I was not able to add in the various Euro-internet cafes in Italy. Since I wanted to blog about some interesting Euro styles the whole time I was there, but simply forgot, allow me to point out some of my favorites:

1. The Euro-mullet. Oh, yes, it was there in force. Old guys. Young guys. The mullet is definitely back in Europe (or maybe it never left. Incidentally, I saw a family of rat-tails in the Amsterdam airport...a dad and his two sons).

2. The Male Euro-Capri. Males fully embrace the capri in Europe. From the streets of Brussels to the coast of Italy, men love showing off sexy Euro-ankles, and they come in all colors, pink being the favorite (capris, not ankles).

3. The English Tee-Shirt Which Makes Little Sense...Previously a stronghold mainly in Asian countries, the nonsensical phrase-based tee shirt is big in Euro-circles. "Bikini Patrol." "I'm not a football player." Oh, there were others, I just can't remember them.

That's really all I can think of right now. I'm tired. My wife is still there, partying it up with the rest of my family until Sunday. Freaks.

Beauty and Pain...

2005-08-17T02:11:00.000-07:00

The cobblestones to the right are from St. Peter's Square, in Vatican City. Amazing.

I can't describe the beauty of a cliff that rises 3,000 feet right out of a deep blue ocean, with a city constructed around it, its streets and shops winding up and down streets barely wide enough for a Honda Civic. This is Positano, our last stop. No more sightseeing (and hopefully no more chaffing), only relaxing, casual exploring, and taking in the beauty of two last sunsets.

Sometimes love needs to dive deeply and explore areas that have been shut down -- boarded up -- in order to remain loving. Over dinner two nights ago, we had a wonderful and painful conversation about loss and love and differences. It was sometimes wonderful, and sometimes awful. I felt myself speaking sometimes passionately, and other times hiding in the corner, wishing it were over, trying to think of anything that would end the conversation.

Flawed as it is, my family loves each other and conversations like that are needed. We could not continue to love with depth if we had not explored these places. I am grateful for being able to be in a family that has the courage to go there. But it was hard, and I find myself feeling both sad and lonely these past two days.

I also find myself looking forward to being home -- to sit with friends, to see my house, to drive on highway 100. After almost two weeks, I do not want to leave, but I do want to return home.

I'm not sure if I will blog tomorrow -- I am on this incredibly weird 'internet machine thing' that is part computer-part arcade game that is freaking me out a little bit.

Peace, people. More blogs to come when I return.

L'Amore...La Vite del Monde.

2005-08-15T01:33:00.000-07:00

Our first day in Rome started with an incredible cup of espresso. Okay, it was two cups. One of my greatest sadnesses about leaving here in a few days will be saying goodbye to the coffee. I don't even want to think about it.

Mary and I spent six hours walking around the city. We walked so much that certain parts of my body experienced chaffing which had never known chaffing before. Ouch. We saw the Colloseum, many piazzas, and some of the old ruins of Rome that are more than 2,000 years old, including the palace of Julius Ceasar. We bought some art, ate delicious food, and lauged at a forty-ish balding gentelmen who was wearing a tank top that said, 'Bikini Patrol.'

The highlight of the day was dinner. Over some of the best glasses of wine that I will ever taste, we decided to speak about why we love my older sister, Lisa, who is one of my heroes. She is vivacious, uncommonly loving, and very free. For over an hour, we explained to her how she was all of those things, and more. At many points, tears began to flow. On one particular occasion, when Mary was pouring out her thoughts to Lisa, our server (an absolutely delightful Italian man, full of life), came over and noticed what was going on. I said to him simply, 'Amore!' He took off his glasses, threw up his hands, and said, 'Ahh, L'amore. La Vite del monde.' (which means, 'Love: the life of the world). Quite true. I have found that my love experiment has been so much more about my family than it has been about random strangers. More on that later.

When not walking, drinking espresso, and laughing at ridiculous tee-shirts, I have been reading a great book called The Life of Pi (by Yann Martel), which I highly recommend.

Today, the plan was to visit the Sistine Chapel, but I believe it is closed, due to a national holiday. Needless to say, anger is welling up inside of me like the inconsolable cries of an infant during a church service.

Tomorrow, we leave for Positano. I'm hoping to be able to blog while I'm there, but I am not sure if I will have internet access. Ozzy Osbourne (from his Black Sabbath days) is caterwauling over the speakers in the internet cafe, so it is time to go.

A Crazy Day...

2005-08-14T09:10:00.000-07:00

Yesterday started relatively simply...we got up early, and caught a shuttle to the Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris. I won't mention that 8 people are carrying 14 bags, and we crammed into a van roughly the size of a Honda Element, whose back door wouldn't open or shut for about 11 minutes. Needless to say, every male in our party had to step over there and pretend he could fix it. Incidentally, my brother in law Dave actually did.

Once we arrived at the airport, security started blowing their whisltles and yelling out 'evacuee, evacuee!' I yawned, checked my watch, and felt a warm trickle down my left pant leg. One single black bag stood in the middle of the now barren check-in area, that was packed just moments ago. Luckily, just moments later, all was well, we checked in, and boarded our flight to Amsterdam (in order to get to Rome).

Unfortunately, our flight was late into Amsterdam, and things got interesting. In Europe, they have this fantastic system for when you have to change planes en route to your destination. Instead of printing out your next flight's boarding passes all at the originating airport (that would be Paris in our case), in Amsterdam, they make everybody go through what they call the 'transfer desk' (read: purgatory). If you intentionally set out to create a bottle neck, this would what you would patent. This is where literally hundreds of passengers are stranded for hours. We arrived at the transfer desk at 12:35pm. We boarded our flight for Rome at 8:30pm.

That's 8 hours, people.

In between, we got on a train to visit Amsterdam, where we met many rastafarians, participated in an incredibly boring guided boat tour of the cannals (where it was approximately 107 degrees inside the boat), and tried to avoid getting high on the second hand cannibas fumes. Incidentally, my brother-in-law Dave enjoyed the boat tour. On the train back to the airport, the conductor curtly reported that we could not reach Schipol Airport, due to a fire in the tunnel. A fire in the tunnel. We would have to go 20 minutes beyond Schipol, compete in foot race to beat the 74 other passengers to get a cab to Schipol, and possibly arrive in time for your flight.

We made it. We arrived at our hotel in Rome at about 12:30am, and Mary and I promptly found a place still open, scarfed down a pizza, and smiled at each other. Roma. I'll write more about it in my next post. I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Rome (in the Piazza Bertonini to be exact), and two very annoying American women are loudly, and very slowly, reading out loud everything they are seeing on the internet. Certainly loving each other doesn't apply in this situation.

Blogging is weird...

2005-08-12T08:52:00.000-07:00

I genuinely enjoy blogging, and I especially love reading other people's blogs. A little community develops, and I find certain sites that are "hubs" that allow you to find other very interesting bloggers out there (one of my favorite ones lately is Bruce D. He has a wonderful perspective on our need to not perform, for God or others). Check him out. (http://weblogs.oxegen.us/ybmt/).

One of the weird things about blogging, however, is that even though I genuinely enjoy writing, and do it mostly for writings' sake, I also find that I am disappointed if there aren't many comments. In the blog world, comments = readers = you are interesting.

It's strange to me to think that blogging, at least to a certain extent, can become a form of performing for me. If I write an especially witty or insightful post, and a few people comment on it, I feel affirmed and valuable. If I get no comments, I assume that it's because my thoughts simply weren't all that interesting to begin with, and my value slips a little.

I find it hard to rest in the fact that I am actually loved. I can believe someone when they encourage me when who I am translates into what I do, but to believe that I am genuinely loved simply for free feels like trying to grab ahold of water. It feels impossible.

I am tired of tight-rope walking my way through life, clamoring for the approval of others.

Napoleon, force, and love...

2005-08-11T08:52:00.000-07:00

Today has been a phenomenal day. I went for a run this morning down the Champs-Ellyses, around the Arc De Triumphe (which some say was built by Napoleon Bonaparte as a sort of Victory Celebration), and down the Seine towards the Louvre. Unless you despise history, beautiful architecture, and all things romantic, you would have loved it. Except for the fact that I wouldn't have talked to you at all, since I was soaking it in entirely alone (except for the millions of tourists that I raced by).

Later on in the day, while sitting in a park, I read these words, spoken by Napoleon Bonaparte himself:

"I know men; and I tell you that Jesus Christ is no mere man. Between him and every other person in the world there is no possible term of comparison. Alexander, Caeser, Charlemagne, and I have founded empires. But on what did we rest the creations of our genius? Upon Force! Jesus Christ founded His empire upon love; and at this hour millions of men would die for him."

Napoleon Bonaparte apparently got something about the power of love that most of us miss. As I sat thinking about this quote, the Arc De Triumph fresh in my memory, I smiled. And I began to think about the foundations of things that last -- stone, steel, rock. But none is more powerful, or more lasting, than love.

It is amazing to be in this city, to soak in the culture, and to know that the power of the love of Christ is invisibly winding its way down the Seine, up the Eifel Tower, underneath the Sacre-Coeur, and into my spirit. I know, I know, this is getting gushy and senitimental, so I'll stop.

Supersize that?

2005-08-10T13:53:00.000-07:00

These are my parents -- two wonderful people who are paying for this entire trip. I love them. They are generous, and they know how to love well. Way to go, Harold and Claudia!

I'm honestly a little exhausted right now, and don't have a whole lot to write down. I will write several things I have noticed since being in Europe:

1. Everything here is smaller than it is in the U.S. If you order a Coke here, it comes in an 8 ounce bottle (as opposed to a 20 ounce minimum back home). Cars are smaller, people are smaller, portions are smaller. And I think they have it right. During dinner tonight, our family was ordering a ton of food, and on three separate occasions, the server uttered words that would never be heard in a restaurant back home: "Don't you think it's too much?" Wow.

2. The news here covers the entire world. I'm reading about things that are happening all over, not just in the U.S. or in Minnesota. It's unbelievable to consider how arrogant and self centered we are. For example, if you were in England, and someone were to mention "7/7," what would come to your mind? Anything? It's a huge deal there, and we barely know about it.

3. Everybody speaks at least two languages. I try really hard to speak french with these people, and as hard as I try, they always answer me in English. Pompous bastards! ;)

The love thing felt a little stale today. It was a travel day, and Paris is so huge, with so many people packed in every square inch, that it's hard to think intentionally about loving. I am finding that the people that are coming to my mind most in the past 24 hours are my family. Sometimes it's hardest to love those who are closest to you.

Over dinner, we have been posing questions for everybody to answer. Tonight's questions were, "In what ways do you most love to feel loved?" We spent the next 25 minutes each talking about our answers. Then we challenged each other to try to be mindful about loving each other in those ways -- not by trying really hard and being cheesy -- but by knowing and hearing each other so that we can honestly love each other on this trip.

I am missing my friends a bit right now as well, who are scattered all over the country on vacation, and some in El Salvador. I miss you guys!

A Love Received...

2005-08-09T12:38:00.000-07:00

Today, many highlights. We traveled back to the town where we used to live, and got to see our old house, our old school (I even ran into my 7th grade English teacher), and our old favorite restaurant. It was amazing.

But my favorite part of the day was during my alone time in the morning. I had just staked out my place on the same little square where I sat yesterday, when a homeless-looking man came up to me and asked for about 50 cents. I asked him what he needed -- coffee? A beer? He replied that he wanted to get a pack of cigarettes. I had purchased a pack for just such an occasion. So, I offered him a cigarette, a seat, and a cup of coffee. I know, I know, you're not supposed to give a guy a cigarette. I don't care. For the next 20 minutes, Benjamin and I chatted -- his broken English was much better than my broken French -- but I loved every second of it. He explained to me that he was born in Africa -- in the Congo to be exact, and he was 51 years old. He lived in a "home" just off of the Grand Place, and he had no children. We talked about America, about Belgium, about his favorite beers, and about life in general. The entire time, I was fully engaged. I loved every second of it. When he got up to leave, he shook my hand, called me, "Mon Ami" (which means, "my friend,") and said perhaps we'll run into each other again. Perhaps we will.

I was hoping for such an encounter. All over Brussels, people walk around asking for money. Most of the time, they are met with icy brush-offs. They usually don't even get a look in the eye. Now, I'm not saying that I'm anything really special for spending 20 minutes with Benjamin. But a part of me felt more whole -- more me -- because we had spent that time together. It was akward at times, especially because of our language barrier. But, my life changed a little bit because of the encounter, and because of that, it made me feel fulfilled.

I'm sad to be leaving Brussels tomorrow, but I'm looking forward to continuing the experiment in Paris. I've only been reading 1 John, and it has been amazing.

Benjamin gave me something that I will keep for a long time -- a lighter wth "Che Guevera" pictured on it. It was his, and he wanted me to have it. I'm not sure how I'm getting it past airport security, but it's coming home with me.

Here's to Benjamin, and the love that he showed me.

A Love Observed...

2005-08-08T14:05:00.000-07:00

In Europe, certain cars exist which don't exist in the United States. The "Smart Car" pictured above, is one of those vehicles. My Schwinn Scrambler in 3rd grade was bigger (and heavier) than this baby.

One of my highlights today (Monday) was to sit in the middle of a busy square while drinking espresso, reading, and people watching.

Soon into my adventure, two men walked up to a couple of seats not far away from mine, one of them seriously gesturing at the other, obviously giving him some clear instructions. Their mannerisms were intense, their mood certain. Then, one of them sat down, while they other pulled a mask out of his backpack (the mask was of a very old man's face). He used this to sneak up on people, scaring them and amusing the onlookers.

Pickpocket, I thought immediately. So I watched him pretty intensely. After about 10 minutes, he hadn't picked anyone's pocket (to my knowledge) but he did get semi-booted from one of the nearby shop owners.

Within 10 minutes, he and his friend were back, this time sitting down, sans mask. A young mother and her 6 year old daughter came up to them, and the two men greeted them warmly. The little girl had a pink baseball cap on, hiding what was left of her hair, most of which she had lost, presumably to radiation treatment. This man hugged her, laughed with her, kissed her, and held her in his lap. Soon, he showed her the mask and she giggled. Within seconds, he was back at it, scaring people, and making the crowd laugh. Kids were leading the charge, howling with laughter as the "old man" snuck up behind people and playfully startled them.

This man picked no pockets. What he did do was love a child with cancer, bring laughter to an otherwise very serious European crowd, and show his own playfulness.

I sat reflecting on the life that he brought, just minutes after reading about the "life" found in 1st John. And I began to wonder about the preconceived notions that I have about people. I've got a long ways to go...

I'm loving Europe.

Pisang Orange...

2005-08-07T08:59:00.000-07:00

This is me, in the Grand Place -- a square in the center of Brussels that is surrounded by beautiful buildings that are over 400 years old. I'm holding a very green drink in my hand. It's called a Pisang Orange, and I'm not completely sure why. But when I was an idiot in high school, my friend Andy and I would have one of these every once in a while. It tastes like bubble gum. Seeing as though I'm not a huge fan of bubble gum, I'm not sure why I liked it. Maybe because it was green. And, again, I was an idiot.

It's so wonderful to be back here after so many years, and to hear so many different languages spoken in just a small circle around me no matter where I go. I love Belgium. When I walked into the hotel lobby, I "smelled" Belgium. Seeing as though deoderant is not exactly high on the priority list here, I'm not sure if that's a good thing. But it brought back a flood of memories.

Since we've been here approximately 3 hours, there's not much to blog about. We're staying at this really great hotel right off of the Grand Place called "Hotel Amigo." http://www.hotelamigo.com/ Kind of a weird name for a nice hotel in a French & Flemish speaking country, but oh well.

My mom and dad arrived today with Julie and Dave, and Jeff and Lisa are coming tomorrow. I'll blog more then, especially about the experiement stuff.

The Europe Experiment...

2005-08-06T09:36:00.000-07:00

Tonight, Mary and I are flying to Europe to join my family for a two week adventure in Belgium, France, and Italy. First stop: Brussels (note cute picture of boy peeing at left). Legend has it that this two year old boy saved the entire city of Brussels from burning with his "ingenuity." Another story says this little boy would sit up in a tree and pee on enemy troops during a Belgian battle in 1142. They dress him in different clothes during different parts of the year. Considering it's a statue of a boy holding his, um...thing (?), it's a pretty hilarious monument. To read more about it, go to http://www.nationmaster.com/encyclopedia/Manneken-Pis

In addition to drinking some great wine, dressing the peeing statue in my own little special outfit (an Edina Hornets football jersey), and eating pomme frites, I am going to try a love experiment.

Every morning, I am going to read some thoughts from John The Evangelist to kick start my thinking, and to help me to walk through my day intentionally trying to love God and others. Mostly, I think I will be reading from his first letter. Then, during the day, I am going to try to live those thoughts out with the people that I meet. Waiters. People on the streets. Artists. My family. Myself.

I'll blog about my experiments daily, so stay tuned. I'm sure I'll have some magnificent failures, some eye opening revelations about my own selfishness, and I'll maybe even meet a God who isn't American.

If anyone would like to try this experiment with me, just do the same thing where you live. the experiment will run from Sunday, August 7th, through Friday, August 19th. I'd love to hear about it!

Heroes...

2005-08-05T12:52:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while, I hear (or say) something like, "Who are our current Heroes? Where are they?" To be completely honest, I'm not sure. One of the guys that is on my radar in this category is, believe it or not, Bono.

I first saw U2 in concert in the fall of 1984, when I was 14 years old, in Brussels, Belgium. The tour that I saw them perform was from their album called "The Unforgettable Fire." Not really knowing that some bands actually have messages in their songs/albums at that point (Quiet Riot was my favorite band that year), I was not aware that the thread running through "The Unforgettable Fire" was inspired by pictures captured from The Enola Gay (the plane that dropped the bomb on Hiroshima, killing 70,000 people instantly). That bomb essentially ended World War 2. Was the price tag justifiable?

I was asked last night if I was "absolutely convinced" that love really could stop violence, or even prevent war. My repsonse: "Well, more bombs haven't done the job. I guess I believe that if there is a shot, love would be the only thing that actually has a chance."

These days, Bono is trying to get 1st world countries (who spend a lot of money making bombs) to forgive the debts that third world countries hold against them. Oh, and he's still writing songs when he has the chance. I was listening to one of them on a run this morning, called, "Original of the Species." There are a few lines in this song that actually made me raise both arms up in the air and start crying. Here they are:

I'll give you everything you want
Except the thing that you want
You are the first one of your kind
And you feel like no-one before
You steal right under my door
I kneel 'cause I want you some more
I want the lot of what you got
And I want nothing that you're not

I believe that Bono is one of the most effective Christian message givers of our time. He is using his celebrity as currency to share a message about God/love (can we use those two words as synonyms?) that is reaching millions of people, all around the world, regardless of religious affiliation.

My other current hero's name is John Welty, a 19 year old college student at Augsburg who understands what love is more than most people twice his age. You should talk to him sometime. If you do, ask him to read you his "manifesto." It's brilliant.

Hearing God

2005-08-04T05:33:00.000-07:00

I have a friend who has just decided to move to the Netherlands to be a pastor of a church plant, and he's moving at the end of the month. His whole family is going -- his wife and three kids. They're excited, but crazy scared. They feel pretty strongly that they heard from God that they need to move there. But they were faced with some daunting tasks: renting their house out, raising some support, and finding a way for their youngest kid to come up with $16,000 a year to attend school there.

A couple of weeks ago, he gave a message, telling the story of why he's moving to the Netherlands (http://www.whchurch.org/content/page_173.htm). In between services, this guy comes up to him and tells him that he thinks "God told him to rent his house." My friend didn't think anything of it, until he got a phone call the next morning from this guy, wondering if he and his wife could come over that night to check out the house. My friend set it up for 8:00pm that night. I don't typically trust people who tell me that God told them things. "God told me to have a burrito for lunch." Really?

This couple comes over, looks at the house for five minutes, and then sits down at the table. "We'd like to rent your house. But first we'd like to tell you our story." The couple then proceeds to tell my friend that this past winter they were on the verge of separating -- they had told the kids that it was over. Then, they heard a message from my friend back in March on "Hearing God" and decided to give it a shot (http://www.whchurch.org/content/page_506.htm). They have started little experiments with trying to listen for God since then. They haven't separated. They love each other and want to make it work.

They felt like God told them a couple of months ago simply to sell their house, which they did. Then, they felt like God told them to rent my friend's house. Then, they told my friend that God told them to give the first year's rent ($18,000) up front in cash. Then, they told my friend that God told them to take care of their stuff (their furniture, etc) while they're gone so they don't have to pay for storing it, etc.

That was all last Monday. On Tuesday, my friend got an email from someone in the Netherlands, saying that there is a family from the church that is leaving, and they want to give them all their electronic stuff (dvd player, sound system), and their car. For free.

I asked my friend, "Well, what kind of car?"

A Honda Accord.

I sat there with two thoughts going through my mind: (1) How insanely cool; and (2) I don't feel like I hear God -- it's been a very long time since I have.

This is an incredibly long post, and I doubt that many people stuck around to read it all. My first question is: Do you hear God like that? My second question is: What about when God calls you to something, and stuff like cars and rent and electronics don't work out?

Questioning God

2005-08-03T05:10:00.000-07:00

I had a great conversation with a friend yesterday who told me that she dropped her faith for most of the summer, mostly due to some hurt feelings she had about her church. She was disappointed in herself, afraid of my disappointment in her, and not sure of what her friends would think of her now that she wasn't "perfect" anymore.

The problem was, although she tried, she couldn't drop her faith. She announced to God that she was done with him, and stopped all "religious" activity normally related to connecting with God.

After a couple of months of this, she found that she hated her life. It was full with everything, but empty without God. So, she decided that she wanted a relationship with God after all.

She told me that although she doesn't have it all figured out with God yet, she "would rather be questioning God than not be in a relationship with God."

I told her that I thought her faith was more real now than it ever has been before.

To say that I think that "Questioning God" is OK seems almost too trendy these days. Of course it's OK to question God. What I have come to believe is that it is essential to question God. How else will we get to know God? Do we think that God can't handle it? Do we think that it shows a lack of faith? I think it shows a lack of faith not to question.

So, here are my top five questions for God that I find myself wondering about these days:

1. Are homosexual relationships always wrong? (And why didn't Jesus ever talk about it?)
2. Is the current relationship between the conservative political agenda and the evangelical church advancing the Kingdom?
3. What does God think when a country asks to be blessed who says it needs to get "back to its Biblical roots?" (which roots? The genocide of Native Americans and the involuntary slavery of millions of Africans?)
4. Why do some people freak out when I refer to God in the feminine or without gender?
5. Jesus is the only way to God (I believe this). But do all people need to know that Jesus is the one saving them for them to be saved? (Before you jump on me too hard about this one, C.S. Lewis poses the same question in the evangelical classic Mere Christianity, and his answer is surprising).

I don't want to just live in the questions. I actually am trying to find answers. Any thoughts?

Onesies, Babies, and New Friends

2005-08-01T07:44:00.000-07:00

On Saturday night, I had the opportunity to gather with some friends who are about to have their first baby. Someone had the great idea that we should all paint words or symbols on tiny, little onesies, to "cover" this baby with our love. People wrote words like love, joy, strength, life, celebrate...it was really cool. Until Reid painted a poop stain in the butt area of his onesie.

Two friends of the parents-to-be catered the event, and the food was spectacular. It was the first time I have ever met these guys, and I was blown away by their genuine attentiveness to everyone they talked to at this party. They listened well, laughed hard, and engaged thoroughly in every aspect of the night.

Towards the end of the night, we all placed our hands on the parents-to-be and prayed for them. I was one of the people who were asked to pray -- it was one of those holy moments (even though it was approximately 107 degrees in the room where we were meeting).

These two new friends of mine (the ones who catered the deal) have stuck in my mind these past few days. Their love for each other was obvious. Their love for these two parents-to-be was obvious as well. Their kindness for each other and for the others at the party seemed as natural as breathing to them.

One of the guys is a graduate of Luther Seminary. The other is an artist who has a picture of himself with the former (late) pope. It's obvious that these guys know a little bit about Jesus, and about loving others well.

Oh, yeah...and they're gay. And I can't help thinking of the words of John the Evangelist: "God is love. Whoever lives in love, lives in God, and God in him."

Now, I have no idea where to put real people like this into my theology that has said that these guys don't make the cut. This is complicated.

Religion Divides, Belief unites...

2005-07-30T12:58:00.000-07:00

I was watching a movie yesterday in which one of the main characters is asked if he is religious. His reply was fascinating: "I am not religious. Religion divides. Belief in something unites." A phrase coined by E. Stanley Jones is similar: "Religion is man's way to God. God's way to man is Jesus."

When the focus is on religion, it's easy to sit in abstractions, and you cannot resist placing people in categories of in or out.

If God's way to man was Jesus, and if Jesus had followers who united around a belief, I wonder what it was that they united around during his lifetime?

Certainly not that Jesus was God. The "church" didn't even decide that Jesus was fully God and fully human until almost 450 years after his death.

Certainly not that Jesus would die for their sins. At the point of Jesus' death, every one of his followers thought it was all over -- that the revolution had ended. They had no theology for the atonement of their sins by human sacrifice during Jesus' lifetime. They did figure it out after his ascension, and wrote about it in the New Testament. But during the life of Jesus, this was not on their radar.

They also didn't unite around a hope in heaven to come. When Jesus tried to explain the afterlife to them, they were just confused. They thought he was speaking about the near future.

I believe all of those things are true, and thank God for them. But if the disciples didn't unite around those things, what could they possibly have united around?

I believe they united around the person of Jesus. Nothing else. They didn't unite around doctrine, they united around a person. They united around who Jesus was, what he did, and what he said. They did not rely on abstractions. They united around a person that was so amazing, so real, so brilliant, and so compassionate, that they didn't need two thousand years of complicated doctrine designed to divide. I love the titles of the books written about Jesus. The Good News According to Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Not The Doctrine of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

We have proved that we can divide over doctrine. Can we unite around belief? If we did, how would that change how we lived with each other and loved each other?

Love Took a Back Seat Yesterday...

2005-07-29T08:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was flying back from Utah with a friend. Tired from two months of travelling being uber youth guy, I wasn't thinking very intentionally about loving. I began watching a movie on my laptop on my first of two flights home, and on the layover, I wanted to recharge my laptop so I could make sure to watch the rest of the movie on the flight from Denver to Minneapolis.

When we got to our gate, I scanned the crowd for an open seat next to an outlet -- and found none. Without really even stopping to think, I walked up to a guy who was sitting right next to an outlet, and asked him if he would mind if I sat there instead of him, since I had this really important thing I needed to do with my laptop. If Mary would have been with me, she would have cringed with embarrassment.

This guy looked at me for two seconds after my request as if to say, "Who the hell do you think you are?" Then, he agreed to get up, and he walked away.

Right away, I knew it was the wrong thing to do. It was assuming that my needs were more important than his needs. A part of me was offended. Lighten up! There are plenty of seats around! What's the big deal?

I guess I thought I was. Oops.

Dead Skin

2005-07-25T10:48:00.000-07:00

I used to play a lot of beach volleyball. Now I only play on these camps that I go on, and I pretend that I’m still young and good. I’m actually neither. That’s not true -- I’m still really good, I’m just not young. I spiked a ball really hard yesterday and all the guy could do was put his hands in front of his face to save thousands of dollars of plastic surgery that would have been necessary had it hit him in the face.

After two days of relatively intense volleyball, the bottom of my big toe on my right foot developed this huge blister that turned into this dead skin flap that has been hurting for the last couple of days. This morning, I removed it. Removed the whole flap. With a toenail clipper. It was about the size of a silver dollar.

Now, there’s this very pink, soft skin underneath that is not used to walking around uncovered. It’s not used to friction of any kind. It hurts. It’s raw, red, and if it had a mouth, and some vocal cords, it would be swearing at me constantly.

For a while, I just tried to pretend that the dead skin flap would grow back onto real skin and cover up the pink rawness. It didn’t. Now, for a while, I’ll probably pretend that the pink rawness doesn’t hurt as much as it actually does.

Last night, I gave a message at this camp that I didn’t feel particularly good about. I felt rambly – not passionate rambly, either, like Greg Boyd. Just rambly-rambly, like I was trying to create a moment. I didn’t feel very good about it . The weird thing was that for the whole day yesterday, students were actually coming up to me saying how much they were looking forward to hearing me speak. I’m not making this up.

I have a dead skin flap on my character that has to do with being a message giver and being liked. It’s really hard to tear it off. I think it might be time to stop pretending that it’ll grow back into real skin, though. I guess I’m afraid of the pink rawness.

Tired...

2005-07-24T16:13:00.000-07:00

I am tired. It's day two of my last summer camp with juniors and seniors, and we're in this beautiful setting doing really fun things (note really fun picture of people in Hummers), and I'm getting ready to speak tonight, and honestly, I just feel like I want to sleep. People are starting to get on my nerves, my eyes have that burny sensation, and I can't really focus on much right now.

I'm speaking tonight on how I hate that it seems like we spend a lot of time trying to sell Christianity (as Christians). As if Americans didn't already hit the jackpot just by living here. Wait! There's more! If you just pray a prayer, not only can you live a life of luxury here and now, but you can go to heaven, too. Not that I don't believe that's true. I just think there's more.

I want to begin to think of my salvation as a ticket for other people to "get in." I don't want to go around selling Jesus to people, namely because Jesus never did that. I do want to try to love people, accept them where they are, and simply do kind things for them. Speak kind words to them. Not rush to have a "spiritual conversation." I want to have "spiritual friendships," but ones that aren't trying to convince people what to believe.

Perhaps people will begin believing in Jesus when I really begin believing in Jesus. Perhaps people will start believing in Jesus when they see that my friendship with him results in me becoming more loving and more inclusive.

I'm done with selling. I want to start believing.

Jamba

2005-07-22T14:31:00.000-07:00

You may think it rather shallow to blog about food. If you think that, you've never experienced the nirvana that is Jamba Juice (and you're kind of a food bigot, if you ask me).

It is currently 179 degrees in the Twin Cities, hot enough to officially register on the hotter than the love of the Lord scale. Foolishly, I decided to embark upon a five-plus mile run during the hottest part of the day. Not that I was exactly running hard (a very old man passed me...twice...) -- it's just that it was simply too hot to do anything other than sip very cold drinks under a very shady tree. Preferably, a Jamba Juice.

Now, there are some who shun the smoothie, saying it's little more than a koolaid on ice, and very overpriced at that. I scoff at that kind of ignorance. Enjoying a Jamba Juice is an experience not unlike a trip to the sea...a treacherous ride on a roller coaster...a first kiss. Okay, that may be the definition of hyperbole, but a jamba is quite refreshing. You should try one.

So, my wife and I have decided to quench our thirst and reward our efforts with a trip to Jamba right this moment. I'll let you know how it turns out.