Discipleship, Community, and Running

This post is especially dedicated to my runner friends. So I'm back home in CT, and I was taking a walk with my dad through the woods around a lake near my house, and it made me think of my high school years when I used to run through the Eastern CT woods every day. I was thinking about the Griswold High School cross country team, an epic story in our own minds (our shirts said "GXC: The Tradition Continues"). I miss my running years a lot, but I know that season of my life had a profound effect on the rest of it beyond, and it will continue influence me.

I remember writing a short piece on running and Christianity when I was in high school. I don't have it anymore unfortunately, but here's an extension of it nonetheless. Many are aware of the running metaphor of "running the race" because the NT writers use it a few times. The Christian walk (or in this case, run) is a journey to a goal, and we are called to drop our weights, to press on and strive toward that goal without stopping. This is an encouragement when we face distractions or trials - the metaphor of a race moves us to keep going and keep our eyes on the goal rather than our pain or the big hill in front of us.

I had a couple more thoughts along the lines of this metaphor. How does one begin running the race? And is there support or are we running alone? As the woods made me nostalgic about my years of running, I remembered two aspects of running that help me to understand the Christian race I'm on. The first has to do with beginning to run - or the call to join the team. There are two kinds of recruitment strategies - one says "Hey running is fun, and if you join the team, you're going to have a great time." And the other one says "Are you sure you have what it takes to run for this team?" My coach recruited with the latter approach. He said "Run for me and you'll feel more pain than you've ever felt before!" As a result we only had seven runners - enough to make a team. But all of us took what we did very seriously, and our team was one of the most meaningful and memorable experiences of my life.

The call to run cross country at Griswold High School was like the call to Christian discipleship. We have many messages telling us that Christianity will make us healthy, wealthy, and wise, but that's not the gospel that Jesus preached. Jesus said "If anyone wishes to follow me, he must take up his cross and die to himself." True discipleship is not easy. To follow Jesus is to follow Jesus to the cross where he was crucified. But it is only in the cross where we find resurrection. And in the same way that cross country gave me some of the most life and excitement of anything I've done, a cruciform life in pursuit of Christ brings abundant life in the present that ultimately ends in eternal life. A life seeking the kingdom of God gives much more life than the passing pleasures of this life.

The other thing I remembered about cross country in high school is the community I was a part of. Although there is an individual aspect to running, the team was what made it fulfilling. My closest relationships were with my teammates. And although we took our goals, our training, and our races seriously, we didn't take ourselves seriously. We were a goofy bunch. We loved being around each other. And our shared mission unified us. And our unity was one of the greatest strengths in our mission. When one of us felt like throwing in the towel during a race, we would keep going because we didn't want to let our team down.

This made me think of the importance for community in the Christian walk. We don't run our race as individuals, we run it as a team. We have a mission of being the agents of Christ's kingdom of justice, peace, and wholeness, and our unity enhances that mission. Christ said that the world will know us by the love that we have for one another. And in the same way that runners have to practice together constantly to be successful in a race, we need to fellowship, worship, and serve each other to be successful in our mission. When we're struggling, we're lifted up by our brothers and sisters, and when they're struggling, we lift them up.

All these memories and writing about this makes me want to run again. I think I might eventually (or at least more than once every 2 months, which is my rate right now). Nonetheless, it's good to see how the regular activities of life are pictures of our greatest goal in life.

A Poem: O Israel When You Were Waiting

I wrote a poem about advent:

O Israel, when you were waiting,
Sitting by the rivers of Babylon,
Quivering, sad, along the shore,
Singing your songs no more than a memory,
Were the promises you were clinging to.

O Israel, what did you long for?
How did your heart pour out petitions,
To a silent God in the lights and noise,
Of idol roars those nights you cried,
Waiting for the Lord to hear.

O Israel, lo, did you listen?
On a silent night in David's city,
A stall was fitting for a child born,
To be exiled and torn and then on a cross,
Suffering the loss to bring you and all people home.

O Israel, what do we long for?
How do we wait when we have what we want,
All we anticipate is a replacement,
Of that which is satiating our hearts,
Leaving them starved of the hope that looks for you.

O Israel, while we are waiting,
In a Babylon of opulence,
Let your hope inform our memory,
Tell your stories now and sing us your songs,
Teach us to long for our Savior who has come.

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel

In light of my last post on remembering Israel's advent season, I thought that the Christmas hymn "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" captures the idea of Israel's waiting for a Messiah. Here are the first and last verses:

O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.

Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Desire of nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind;
Bid Thou our sad divisions cease,
And be Thyself our King of Peace.

Here's a video with a rendition of "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" by Sufjan Stevens:

Israel's Advent Season

In our advent season it is good to consider the advent "season" of Israel, awaiting their Messiah. I read Isaiah 40 today, and was struck by the difference we see between our twenty-first century experience in December and the experience of God's people before Christ came. In our culture of increased consumerism and stress around Christmas time, remembering our story can help us put things in perspective.

Isaiah 40

1"Comfort, O comfort My people," says your God.
2"Speak kindly to Jerusalem;
And call out to her, that her warfare has ended,
That her iniquity has been removed,
That she has received of the LORD'S hand
Double for all her sins."
3A voice is calling,
"Clear the way for the LORD in the wilderness;
Make smooth in the desert a highway for our God.
4"Let every valley be lifted up,
And every mountain and hill be made low;
And let the rough ground become a plain,
And the rugged terrain a broad valley;
5Then the glory of the LORD will be revealed,
And all flesh will see it together;
For the mouth of the LORD has spoken."

Isaiah communicates the tender words from the Lord, "Comfort, O comfort my people." Why is he saying this? The people of Israel were in exile after a long history of expectation and disappointment. Since God's first promise of blessing to Abraham, Israel hoped to be in a land where they could be in God's presence and be free to worship. And although the Lord delivered them from oppression, slavery, and attacks from their enemies, they continued to rebel, and never completely entered into the promises. Isaiah writes during the time of the Babylonian exile, when it seemed like all hope was lost. There was no singing by the rivers of Babylon - how could they sing the Lord's song in a foreign land?

When we consider Israel's "advent season" we realize that they longed for the Messiah with their very lives. They had nothing except hope in promises that were made before they were even born. Americans, however, have everything except true hope. We have security, we are in our homeland, we have food and water, we have jobs and education, and we have political freedom. We are satisfied, and do not long for anything. So let's acknowledge that when we remember the coming of the Messiah, it's from a different lifestyle than Israel during the exile.

But when we remember our story, we remember that the things of this world are fleeting. Is.40:8 says, "The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever." Israel understood that the flower fades - before they were taken into exile, they thought everything was OK. They trusted in their security, and not in the Lord. Then their flower faded.

But the Lord says in Verse 2 that Israel "has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord's hand double for all her sins." Who served that term? Christ served it on the cross. The promise is made here in Isaiah and fulfilled when God left God's glory and entered into a humble barn stable with animals. Christ served the sin of Israel, and the sin of the world, and made the promises available to everyone.

We live in a time now in which we have received the Messiah, and the Kingdom has come, but not in its entirety. We live in that "already/not yet" period. There are still many in the world who are suffering as Israel was in Babylon, and since we are part of the same body as our brothers and sisters in Christ around the world (and those suffering in our backyard), we await the second coming. On Christmas we celebrate that the Messiah has come to begin to restore the world. We take part in that restoration now, and hope for Christ to come again and deliver us completely from suffering, sin, and brokenness.

Remembering our story - remembering Israel's "advent season" - helps us appreciate Christ's coming. We can even long for Christ to deliver us from the hopelessness and superficiality of the Christmas season. We realize that all those useless presents are like the flower that fades, but the word of God will stand forever. Glory be to Jesus Christ, who has delivered us from our sin and hopelessness. Glory be to the humble child who immediately after being born, went into exile in Egypt. Glory be to the humble servant who was obedient unto death, even death on the cross. And glory be to our Lord who rose from the dead and gives us new life, and redeems the whole world from sin and death.

Theologian Jocks

I wonder which theologians in the history of the Church were athletes. As I'm studying for my Church History exam, I'm realizing that many of the theologians we read use athletic metaphors. I bet Ignatius was a runner - he was pretty bent on getting martyred, talking about wooing lions so they would eat him, and such. That kind of masochism must come from a runner. And Gregory of Nyssa used some athletic metaphors when he wrote about St. Macrina. She could bear sickness like a champ, so she would be good at a sport with a high tolerance for pain too - maybe wrestling. So I guess athletic metaphors are not only for the simple-minded. Some of the greatest theological thinkers liked to think about sports. (These are pictures of my housemates Ben and Thomas, Girard, and me standing at a bus stop on the day of our epic Church History exam. We were getting pumped).

Hollywood in the DRC

As the press is giving the DRC some more ink, celebrities are making their way into the pictures. In the past couple days I've heard that both Ben Affleck and George Clooney are speaking up about the DRC, and I think Ben Affleck is there right now. I'm encouraged that these celebrities are using their agency to bring awareness to the conflict. Celebrities have a repository of power that is best when it's tapped by important issues and crises. In a sense they have their unique role, which is directing people's eyes to what's going on. But on the other hand it seems to trivialize what is happening. On the UN News website there are pictures of George Clooney playing basketball with soldiers in the DRC. It's a fun picture, but if people remember that before they remember the millions of deaths and rapes that have happened there, then all George Clooney does is give us a good diversion. But all in all, I think it's good, and I think George Clooney is probably well-intentioned. I think what this shows is that raising awareness may or may not be healthy, depending on how it's done. Hopefully it will go in a good direction.

Obama and Racial Reconciliation

On Tuesday the United States elected their first African-American president, Barack Obama. We turned on the television at 10:30 to watch the networks track the status of the election. Obama was in the lead, which was no surprise since he had been winning in the polls. But at 11:00pm the screen suddenly read “Barack Obama – 44th President of the United States.” I didn’t believe that it was true at first. I actually wondered if they had jumped the gun. But after it remained on the screen it started to hit me that he truly was our new president.
When his presidency was announced I saw on the TV screen hundreds and thousands of African-Americans celebrating the results. I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind that “This is America. This is really America. These are the people who represent America.” This is a profound paradigm shift for Americans, and a humbling one for many. The prototypical American is no longer white. Having Obama as president is a jump (even a disorienting one since it seems like such a complete turnaround) toward a multiethnic America. It was a beautiful picture to see people whose ancestors were enslaved – enslaved! – and who did not even have voting rights 40 years ago, representing the United States. There is doubtlessly more to a president than race, but considering America’s past, this cannot go overlooked as a historic moment.
Still, this begs the question, “Does electing a black president really break down racial hierarchy in the Church?” No, it doesn’t. In fact, if we think it does, then having a black president is a detriment to the Church’s pursuit of racial reconciliation. We will think that we’ve arrived when really we have a long way to go on the journey. This is the mistake that was made after the civil rights movement. The Church, however, should be very humbled by what has happened. The United States, a country that cares very little about Jesus Christ, has elected a black president, while most of our churches are devastatingly segregated. Once again, the world is showing the Church how to be the Church. This should make Christians repulsed with themselves. At the same time, hopefully it can be a call for repentance and the start of a journey toward reconciliation. Hopefully more Christians, both white and black, will be inspired to take part in that journey.

Conflict in the DRC

I work at the Center for Reconciliation, where my main project is planning a gathering in Bujumbura, Burundi, that will bring together Christian leaders from the African Great Lakes region (Rwanda, Burundi, Uganda, Southern Sudan, and Democratic Republic of Congo) to talk about tribalism, ethnicity, and identity from a Christian vision. Over the past four or five years conflict and reconciliation have been some of the key issues that I have studied and sought to understand in the Church. For that reason, this job was a great opportunity to pursue those things more. For the first few weeks, I was captured by what I was learning and the chance to correspond with leaders in that region.

Nonetheless, over the last couple weeks, as the conflict in the DRC has become increasingly intensified, my theoretical “interest” in conflict and reconciliation has become a paralyzing reality. I knew before that violence is not merely theoretical – in fact seeing its impact on America with the 9/11 and the war in Iraq, and reading about the conflicts around the world, made me want to understand it better and eventually give my hand in the journey to peace in some way or another. But now that I’m communicating with people who are dealing with the consequences of the violence right now, I have paused a bit more than I do when I’m reading the news.

A couple days ago I had to correspond with pastor, Manasse Mbusa, from Goma, DRC, to ask him about transportation. After I had already sent the email, I realized that a question about conference logistics would be a bit trivial, to say the least, in light of the increase in violence. I still told him that we were praying for them at the Center for Reconciliation. The next day I was shocked to find a long email in my inbox from him. He told me that just yesterday rebels invaded Goma, looting shops, buses, and vehicles, and creating panic in the city. Mbusa and his people were hiding indoors while all this was happening. The NGO’s had fled the town for safety, and the UN troops may not be there for long, and there is a threat of humanitarian crisis, because there is very little food in the city.

Throughout this turmoil, Mbusa said he is asking the question “God, what will you have for me at home, in the street, at work, in my church, etc.?” He praying that God will provide food, and he is trying to mobilize the Church to minister to the people in the city. It is amazing to see his faith and the way that God is using him and the Church to be God’s presence amidst the violence.

I couldn’t believe that Mbusa emailed me back, but it made me realize that he wants people to know about what is going on. He wants us to pray for them. It’s amazing that we in the United States can, at least in very small degree, bear their burdens with them through our prayers. It shows how the body of Christ is global – how Christ’s body cannot experience something in Africa that doesn’t affect the rest of his body around the world. If we are not affected by that experience, we are not being Christ’s body.

We cannot deny that our experience as intercessors in the US does not compare with the trouble that the people in the DRC are experiencing. We must not romanticize what is happening there. What we can do here is have compassion for them, and pray for them. We can empathize with their pain and fear, and participate through our prayers and encouragement.

Thank You John Perkins and CCDA

My roomate Ben and I skipped out on classes for the past two days to drive down to Miami for the annual Christian Community Development Association conference. It is truly a remarkable thing to be with thousands of frontline urban ministry leaders from around the country. It is a worshipful time with multi-ethnic worship and bible study every morning with John Perkins. There are many workshops with practical and Kingdom-driven insight on everything from how to respond to the housing crisis, to the developing a healthy prayer life while doing difficult ministry. But the stories and the people are the best part. I am hearing about how the Kingdom is coming in communities from all over, and meeting the people who are allowing the Word to become flesh in their own lives. It is so real and tangible. And it's making me feel even more restless about being in a classroom for the next three years.

John Perkins needs to be known in America like Billy Graham is known. He came out of the civil rights era in Jackson Mississippi, losing his brother and seeing his Father beaten from racially motivated hate. He moved out of the poor neighborhood he grew up in, but moved back after he became a Christian to minister incarnationally. He built a ministry called Voice of Calvary in Jackson that ran under three principles: 1) reconciliation to God and each other, manifested particularly as racial reconciliation, 2) relocation to disenfranchised neighborhoods, and 3) redistribution of resources that are empowering to the people and the community. These "three R's" became the motto for the CCDA, and now there are hundreds of ministries around the country who have learned tremendously from John Perkins and run under that model. This is what the Church in America needs to commit to if they want to do ministry that is wholistic. This model gets beyond the talk and makes Christians take a journey of living in the presence of suffering, doing the hard work of reconciliation, and rejecting the consumerism and materialism for justice in America. It makes the gospel more than just an idea, but something that changes society. It makes social justice more than just some sexy thing to talk about to feel like a progressive. I'm so thankful for CCDA. May God bless all those who are doing God's work in cities.

Some observations about Duke Divinity School

Spiritual Formation: I'm very encouraged by the focus on cultivating our spiritual vitality. It would be very easy for these 3 years to become a stressful, competitive, and overly academic time. And although we will make mistakes and experience those things, they care deeply about developing our hearts and souls. The orientation and the Bridddge program started with worship each day, and it's been a different and special experience worshiping with people who are embarking on a similar journey of preparing for ministry. One service that was particularly powerful was one where we remembered our baptism, which I have never done before. We went one by one to the front of the room and dipped our hand in water as we were told "Remember your baptism..." This conjured memory after memory of when I was baptized - standing in the lake with Pastor Dave, being put under the water and coming back up, seeing my mom and giving her a hug afterwards. I surveyed the last 10 years since I was baptized in my mind. As I thought of the journey I've been on, I don't know if I've ever connected with God's faithfulness in such an intimate way. When I sat down I wept and wept until the service was over. I've had many challenges, questions, and fears since I've been baptized, but God has been good. God is good.

I'm also looking forward to the spiritual formation groups we meet with weekly, morning prayer every morning and worship Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. These three years will not just be studying theology, it will be experiencing theology.

Community: One of the primary emphases is that we learn best in community. During orientation we have constantly heard the message that we are in this together. One of the speakers told us to look to our left and our right at the people sitting next to us - our job is to make sure that in 3 years, they are still there. The worship and prayer that I mentioned before is for our spiritual growth, but it's also for us to be worshiping together. This does not replace finding a local church, it is rather an opportunity to worship with our fellow students.

I started to get the sense that this could become a constant retreat. This means it's important for me to be involved in my neighborhood and other parts of Durham and Duke so that I understand and connect with the world at large, not just in the Duke Divinity bubble.

A New Home in Durham and Duke Divinity School

In just three days I begin my first semester in the M.Div. program at Duke Divinity School. When I first arrived about a week ago I participated in the "Bridddge" program, which is designed to connect Duke Divinity students to the Durham community. We visited historical sites, heard speakers, worshiped together, and were prompted to think theologically about everything we saw. It was a great time to meet some of my new fellows students too. Here are a few highlights:

The second day of Bridddge, we visited Paul Cameron's slave plantation from the early 19th century. He treated his slaves better than most slave owners, but there is ample evidence that it was out of economic rather than compassionate motives. This makes me think of other powerful people during our time who oppress the weak under the pretense of good will.
An incident that occured later that day related to this. One of the directors of community affairs at Duke University (the entire schoo, not just the Divinity school) led a bus tour through Durham. As we visited different areas he pointed out what good things Duke University has done in one way or another - they gave money here, built this there, etc. The constant laud of Duke was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable, especially when we drove through Walltown, the low-income, predominately African-American community, where I'm living. At the end of Walltown closest to the university, Duke bought out a whole row of houses and established a policy in which only Duke staff and faculty can purchase them. They're renovating the houses to make them over $400,000 each. He said something to the effect of "many will call this gentrification, which people think is detrimental, but the way we see it is that we're revitalizing the area." I shifted in my seat and whispered to a 2nd year who lives in Walltown, "What do the people in Walltown think?" He said "They think that Duke is trying to push them out of their homes and buy out the neighborhood - they're not happy about it."

That was the depressing part. The encouraging part was what happened when the tour guide got off the bus. As soon as the door closed, Rev. Brady, one of the Bridddge leaders from the Divinity School, erupted from his seat and launched into a sermon about the dangerous subtleties of how the world sees things, and how we are to see things by the Spirit and with a Kingdom vision. The sincere, spontaneous passion in Rev. Brady was encouraging and inspiring. Some other Bridddge leaders and students spoke up and the whole bus was filled with "Amens." This was a beautiful picture of how the good news of Jesus' Kingdom enters reality - speaking into oppressive systems and caring for the disenfranchised, giving them a home when their worldly homes are taken away.

Another highlight to the Bridddge program was the privilege of visiting Ann Atwater, a civil rights leader in Durham during the 1960's. There was a book written about the friendship between Ann and former KKK Exalted Cyclops C.P. Ellis called The Best of Enemies. We went to Ann's place and she joyfully welcomed us with open arms. We all piled in the back room and sang a hymn together. I could hear Ann from the other side of the room singing boldly with her weathered voice. She told us stories about prayer meetings, sit-ins, vigils, and marches she led. Someone asked her, "What inspires you to be so vocal and so active?" She said, "When I was a young girl, someone told me that I must stand on the truth, and if anything goes against it, I must speak up about it." In light of this conviction, she had us read the first chapter of James together, emphasizing the part that urges, "prove yourselves doers of the word, and not merely hearers who delude themselves."

We serendipitously saw Ann's "doing" in action. She had organized a clean-up day in her neighborhood (she's still going strong in her later years), and there were some other Duke students going door-to-door asking homeowners if they'd like help cleaning up their trash. As they were walking around, a firetruck picked them up and brought them back to Ann's place, saying it was "dangerous" to be out walking in that neighborhood. When they told this to Ann, her jolly smile became a scowl and she said "Hand me the phone!" She dialed 911 and said "I have some students who took some time out of their day to help clean up trash, and they were told they couldn't be doing what they were doing...this is Ann Atwater...give me the chief of police...he's not there?...well I need to find out why these students can't be walking through this neighborhood." And we listened as she shared her frustration. She said "OK, thank you" and hung up, then proceeded to call the mayor. He wasn't in either, but about a minute later a police officer showed up at the house. When he came in, she said, "Come on over here and set next to me." He politely and awkwardly came in and took a seat in a room full of 20 wide-eyed entering Divinity students, some undergrads, and Ann Atwater. She explained the situation, he apologized and said it was fine for them to be in the neighborhood, and Ann invited him to join us if he could. So we proceeded with our questions and Ann's stories - except now we had a Durham police officer joining the party. He was very happy to stay, so we took advantage of it and asked him questions about the relationships between the police, some of the distressed neighborhoods in Durham, and Duke students. I think our time in Ann's living room brought those three worlds together in a wonderful way.

God's Economics

Over the past year I've been working for the researcher/writer/capacity builder Amy Sherman, and one of our main projects has been implementing a program that teaches at-risk kids about economics and how to manage their money. It seems like a worthy program since disenfranchised communities are the predominant victims of predatory lenders, and it empowers kids by helping them to earn their way out of poverty. However, at moments throughout the year I've had reservations about what I'm actually doing. Am I really helping kids, or am I just feeding their tendency toward materialism? Am I teaching them to build character, or am I teaching them to strive for the American dream? Am I helping them, or am I helping America's economy?

Over the past week I've been at the annual conference for the National Association of Street Schools, where they are making a zealous push to incorporate economics into the education of their network of schools. As I'm thinking more about Economics, I'm realizing it's not necessarily bad nor good, but rather a neutral science that can be harmful or beneficial. What's important is the value system that one employs as she or he approaches economics. Let me explain.

Economics is all about making choices. Because of scarcity (unlimited wants and limited resources to satisfy those wants) we are forced to make choices. Those choices have consequences. For example, since I have a limited number of hours in the day (24) I can spend 16 of those hours checking facebook and reading people's blogs, but the consequence is that I won't be able to join my friends when they go for a hike (do finish reading this before you turn off your computer and go outside).

So when I think about the resources that I have (time, money, emotional energy, possessions), I am always doing a cost-benefit analysis to determine the best way to use my resources, and the consequences of my potential decisions. Economics has given me reservations over the past year because too often people's value systems say "How will my choices benefit ME." That is why many businesses and individuals tend to oppress the weak with their decisions - because in a sinful world a person or company can make a self-promoting choice where the only negative consequences are faced by the marginalized in society.

However, a Christ-like way of doing economics asks "How will my choice serve the welfare of others, even if it costs me a great deal?" It's reversed from the way the world does it. When Jesus was in the garden before he was crucified, he did a cost-benefit analysis - the cost was his life, but the benefit was the life and freedom of others. So it is great to learn about economics, as long as it's coupled with a value system that puts God first, others second, and us third.

Why I Like Shane Claiborne

A few nights ago I went to see Shane Claiborne's Jesus for President tour with some friends. Afterwards, and for the few days following, people have been asking me how it was, and I usually tell them "I love what Shane Claiborne is doing." Then when they ask details I have a hard time saying what I liked so much about it. So after thinking about it, I've realized that what is so encouraging about Shane Claiborne's writing, speaking, and lifestyle is that he begins with what the Scriptures say about Jesus and and how we should live, and then models his lifestyle off of that, rather than beginning with his own interests, affections, and lifestyle and trying to fit a Christian identity into that.

During the first half of the talk, Shane and his co-writer Chris Haw talked about the political sphere during Jesus' time, and emphasized how Jesus used explicitly political language to subvert the powers of Caesar. So he wasn't politically ignorant, nor was he marrying God to the powers that be, but rather he was testifying that with his arrival a whole new kingdom has come that will take over the powers of this world. But it will not take over in the manner the world is used to - by wealth and power and prestige - instead it will rule by becoming small, becoming the least, and serving the world in love and humility. This observation about Jesus' time has direct application to our political situation in America, where the Church is either manipulated by politics (traditionally by the Conservative agenda but now increasingly by the democratic party), or pretends that it can function without acknowledging the political situation. But what Jesus did is turn politics on its head by testifying of the Kingdom of God - that he is the King - which scared the crap out of the political leaders of the time.

I think we need to keep our eye on Shane Claiborne, because he is really becoming a leader worth following, who is drawing the Church away from its love affair with America and into deep intimacy with Christ and a lifestyle that Jesus intended for us.

Ego v. Othercentric

Today I was reminded of a quote by C.S. Lewis that had a huge impact on me a few years ago, but has drifted out of my life. It was in the last few sentences of the chapter on pride in Mere Christianity, where he says essentially that a humble person will not go on and on about their flaws, but rather they will take a deep interest in others. When I had read that before I remember setting out to having that others-focused attitude, but as I look on the past year or two of my life, my own desires and pursuits have pushed that mindset away. I'm glad that God reminded me of this because although my natural tendency is toward self-obsession, I truly do find more joy in celebrating the lives of others than focusing on myself.

New Sacred Music Guy at Duke

Welp, Duke is now complete. I've been blown away since I visited Duke Divinity school about how perfect of a fit it is. They have some of my favorite theologians, they are very intentional about involving students in ministry rather than just having them sit in a classroom, they take spiritual life seriously by having morning prayer every morning and setting up spiritual growth groups for us, they care deeply about the Church and at the same time bringing the gospel to the public realm. However, the one area I would have admitted that it's not ostensibly the BEST place to be trained for ministry is theology and arts. I think most people would say to go to Yale if you really want to focus in that area. Well, I just heard yesterday that Duke hired Jeremy Begbie to be a professor starting next year. From what I hear (I haven't read anything by him myself), he is a leading theologian in sacred music. They want him to teach classes and start a number of arts and theology initiatives. Since God has been rekindling my love of art, particularly music, over this past year, I'm very excited to have the opportunity to study under him.

This got me thinking about theology and art today. I admit that I'm still reluctant about that relationship because too often it seems like people really like music but they want to feel good about it, so they find some proof-text from scripture to show that 'God is the great artist,' or some such justification. But still, my boss told me that Jeremy Begbie says that classical music communicates the order of God. This is a huge simplification and third hand, but I think that's a neat idea. It makes me wonder - in modernity, music was neatly ordered, and so was theology (systematic theology). In postmodernity, liberal theology paralleled postmodern music - the twelve-tone stuff like Shoenberg. The postliberal theology that is quite present at Duke came out of dissatisfaction with modernity and postmodernity. It makes me wonder, what would postliberal music sound like? Postliberal theology views the Bible and the Church as a narrative that transcends the system of doctrines of modernity and chaos of postmodernity. How would postliberal music present that narrative but also present the fragments of liberalism and insufficiency of modernity?

Still a long way to go

I was talking with a new friend about spirituality a few days ago at the coffee shop, and I had realized that I'd forgotten how much people are scarred by a perverted form of Christianity. He talked of Jesus with such high regard, but it was sad to realize that his only frame of reference for Christians were were not very much like Jesus. One of the first things he brought up was "How can anyone who is racist say that they love God or follow Jesus?" Great point. Too many Christians think the race problem is a think of the past, but until my friend sees black and white Christians loving each other and fellowshiping together, he won't change his mind. Another thing he commented on was how Christians are focused on wealth and are willing to hurt the environment and go to war for money. Another great point. The testimony of the Christian witness was not the only thing skewed for him, but also the testimony of Christian worship. He had a problem with the idea of worship, so I explained that worship is an expression of humility. He said "Show me a humble Christian." During the conversation I found myself trying to emphasize that the essence of Christianity is in Jesus, and yes, many Christians sadly fit in with his descriptions, but they are not all like that. But I have to admit that it gets old trying to say something that I can't show him. I believe in Jesus, and I believe in the church, but I want so bad for the church to be a credible witness to the world, which will only happen if they start being more like Jesus. We need to reconciled to one another and love one another, and we need to be willing to serve the world rather than try to dominate it with money and power. And it's not just Christians who are doing it, but it's just sad when Christians can't say no to the evils around them.

I was encouraged to see Shane Claiborne's tour on CNN.com the other day. The thing I love about what Shane is doing is that it is nothing extraordinary from the perspective of what the lifestyle of a Christian should look like, but Shane and his crew are so intentional about being like Jesus that they bear witness to the world around them. He always emphasizes peculiarity - and the peculiarity is beautiful. I think that unless we take being like Jesus seriously, we'll blend in with the rest of the world until we realize that we're the oppressors ourselves, which we know is too often the case.

Here's a link to the website of the community Shane is a part of: http://www.thesimpleway.org/

One other thing this made me realize - Christians may think they're doing their job until they talk to someone who is not a Christian. It was talking to my new friend that reminded me that the Church has a long way to go. But with Jesus I have hope that it will go there.

Music

I was driving in the car with some friends of mine, listening to some new bands I hadn't heard, and it hit me like a fever that I need to make music more a part of my life. I asked my friend Sean who some of the bands were that we were listening to, and started writing them down. That night I watched "Once" for the third time - it's a movie about a busker in Ireland and the performance of his songs are the soundtrack throughout the movie. This is the movie that the song "Falling Slowly" came from. So I was watched Once again, and that added to my burning desire to listen to more music, write songs, and play songs for people. The next day I wrote a song.

So this onslaught of inspiration has come rather suddenly. I've had flashes of inspiration throughout the year, but this has been more of a light bulb that stays turned on. It comes with some humiliation though. I played an open mic a couple days ago, and let me first say that I thoroughly enjoyed it - I got to play some of my songs for people, I got to hear some other (good) songwriters and musicians, and one of the most exciting parts was being in that coffee-shop environment, meeting new people and having good conversation. But I felt somewhat deflated when I realized how rusty my songs, my guitar-playing, and my voice were. Part of me wanted to say 'Forget it, music was a thing of the past for you,' but then I realized why I wanted to make music again. I was inspired to make something beautiful. When the writer Reginald McKnight came to one of my classes last year he said 'There are three types of responses to beauty (literature, music, etc.): there's the critic who analyzes it and discerns how it can be better, there's the person who immerses her/himself in the beauty, and then there's the creative type who sees beauty and responds to it by wanting to make more beauty. I identified most with the third one - hands down.

I like to be creative, and I feel incomplete when it's missing from my life. I'm glad music is coming back. My friends Mike and Bernard have been key for helping me get back into it. Mike plays piano and we've been jamming and we're hoping to record later this summer. Bernard is a musical Jack-of-all-trades who plays drums, guitar, piano, makes hip hop beats, and is an excellent freestyle rapper. He invited me to busk with him and some friends at the downtown mall and we'll keep doing that. I love how music brings people together.

Kite Runner

The thing that stuck out to me the most was the role of suffering. In one of the most powerful parts of the book, Amir reads the letter that Rahim Khan writes him informing him that he knows about the secret he has kept for the past 15-20 years. This is in the midst of Amir's risky attempt to redeem his past by saving his deceased best friend's son (Sohrab), who has been abducted by the Taliban. The letter reads: "A man who has no conscience, no goodness, does not suffer." This epitomizes the conflict that Amir faces throughout the book - he has been privileged his whole life, and though he has not committed crimes to the degree of the juxtaposed Taliban criminals, his inaction eats away at him. After making the decision to save Sohrab, he begins a process of being liberated while his comoforts discarded. This allows him to share his past with his wife, which she embraces immediately because she has had a difficult past. The redemption is not perfect, which makes it seem real, but the story is hopeful overall.

The themes of violence and redemption are interesting to look at together too. There is certainly a conflict - Amir applauds Sohrab for violent actions toward the Taliban leader that oppressed him, but Sohrab doesn't seem convinced that it was the right thing because his father had told him that everyone can be redeemed and it is never right to hurt someone. It seems like Amir's opinion wins, which was disappointing - but Hosseini does a great job of painting that eternal question: Is violence necessary and permissive in cases of extreme oppression? My emotion was certainly bound up in that conflict.

The Kite Runner

I'm finally reading The Kite Runner. I'm close to the end, so I'll probably finish it in a couple days. I was interested right away with Amir's relationship with his friend Hassan - how he knew he treated him condescendingly, and was bothered by it, but not enough to change. I love how Hosseini makes Amir's faults subtle, but has them gradually lead more considerable consequences. There's not a whole lot to say about it right now because I haven't finished, but so far I'm kind of taken by the way that power and privilege is handled, by the social structures in both Afghanistan and America, and the kind of questions it poses about guilt and redemption.

Confession (cont.)

A couple more things...This means that things I learn should be relevant to my current experiences. I shouldn't get bogged down by conceptual theory. There's nothing wrong with learning things that aren't directly relevant, as they may be relevant at some point. But I should make sure that learning things related to my current experiences are first.

This will also mean more time spent with people and engaging in good conversation, and seeing incredible value to that. I think another root of this desire for living in the present with what I learn is that I think we get the most out of our relationships with other people - more so than books most of the time.

Confession

I have a confession to make. I've been stuck in a rut for I don't know how long, in which I've been so focused on the future that I haven't fully engaged with the present. A lot of this has concerned how I envision my vocation in life - in all aspects: job, friends, etc. And part of my vocation includes what I learn and how I share it with others. And since I'm going to seminary next year, I've been waiting until I become trained and prepared to share what I've been learning, which has prevented me from sharing the process. I have a confession: I dream of writing a book. That's embarrassing to admit because it's pretentious. But I'm getting fed up with myself being caught up in the future. I'm learning new things every day, and I'm engaging those things with people I love every day. So instead of preparing to live life, I'm ready to start living life right now.

I think this will mean more blog posts. It doesn't get the return that a book or article does, but it's present and it's real (haha, I write this as though more than 3 people actually read this...and that might be an exaggeration).

creative pieces

This is a link to a blog with some creative pieces that my friends and I put together: http://wordsonaline.wordpress.com/

Church amidst Earthly Authorities

I just finished an essay called "A Vision of Reality: The Redemptive Task of the Church amidst Earthly Authorities." I set out to research and write about how a Christian should view the War in Iraq, and after I began my research I realized 1) There is so much theological grounding on the role of government that I need before I can have something helpful to say about the war, and 2) The political complexities in Iraq are way out of my league. So I decided to do some further research on the role of the government and its use of force in the Bible and write a paper about that. I think this was an important thing to realize - if Christians do not have their theological convictions in place before talking about politics, they can end up making either careless theological misjudgments or ignorant political statements. I've been quite guilty of both.

After looking at the role of government in the Biblical story, and reading books and articles by some of the major just war theorists and pacifists, it seems to me that Christian engagement in warfare detracts from the redemptive task of the Church, which is to witness in word and deed to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Governments are instituted by God as ministers and servants to preserve peace and administer wrath to everyone. As such, the purpose of government is to grant common grace to everyone in the same way that God allows all people to taste chocolate chip cookies and bask in the sun. The most fundamental response for the Christian is to submit to these authorities. Most just war theorists say in one way or another that since governments are ordained by God, Christians are permitted - and in some cases are morally obligated - to take up arms. But the Bible in no way indicates this next step. And in fact, when a Christian uses force - even in war - he or she fails to demonstrate the submissive nature of Christ. Force and submission cannot happen at the same time. The Church's number one purpose is to witness to the redemption that happened when Christ chose not to raise the sword and submitted to the cross. And this has a power far beyond armies, which the world doesn't understand. If we fail to do bear this witness in both word and deed, the hope of eternal peace will remain an illusion to the world.

This is nothing new - it is essentially what people like Yoder and Hauerwas say. But distinguishing between the common grace function of government and special redemptive task for the Church is a helpful way for me to understand how they fit together.

Hauerwas, Narrative, and Adventure

In one of my classes I've been writing a paper that has given me the opportunity to read a lot of Stanley Hauerwas, and I'm realizing that a lot of his insight has indirectly helped in many ways. I've read articles by Hauerwas before, but as I'm reading him more in depth now, I'm starting to gain the ability to better interpret a lot of what I've been learning over the past 1-2 years.

The main concept that I've been contemplating for the past few weeks is narrative theology, an idea to which Hauerwas has been one of the primary contributors. At first sight the idea of story in theology may seem trendy, but I'm realizing its foundation is stronger and more historical than modern ways of looking at scriptures like systematic theology (Hauerwas would say that systematic theology has its benefits, but I'll get to that in a little bit). I'll try to summarize Hauerwas' contentions as simply as possible, but since I've only scratched the surface, please forgive me if I am either confusing or do Hauerwas an injustice.

The first acknowledgment is that we live in a fragmented world where we are fed so many ideas in bits and pieces - some seem to have truth to them, and some do not. What modernity has done, according to Hauerwas, is condemn us to freedom. In a talk given by him he says that what modernity has done is tell us "You have no story, except the story which you chose when you had no story." In other words, modernity said that since freedom and authenticity is of primary importance, we must go alone on this personal search for truth. Postmodernity, a reaction to modernity, has said that none of us can be truly authentic. We are created by our surroundings, we all have an agenda, and there is no way to find the truth because it's all relative to our own experience. We must be wary of anything that sets itself up as an absolute truth. So now we live in a world where people are either trying to as objective and authentic as possible, and at the same time can't be sure of anything because they know their own human limitations.

When I became a Christian, I learned about Jesus from a very modern perspective, and that framework worked for me - and by "worked," I mean that I truly believed in Jesus the way it was explained. I didn't realize it had modern cultural attachments to it, but it was OK because nothing questioned it. But when I spent a semester in Cape Town as a junior in college, my modern framework was challenged both by ideas and experience. I learned about postmodernity in my classes and by talking to my friends, and I was in a place that was less Western than America, thus making modernity less of the norm. I was challenged by this question: Do I believe in Christianity simply because that is the background from which I come? Is my faith cultural? Christianity has only been in Cape Town for 400 years - if life is really about following Jesus, how come this area of the world has never heard about Jesus until 400 years ago?

These questions were very challenging, and they've been (at least partially) resolved in various ways, but what Hauerwas has done has really grounded me back in Jesus and the Church. This is how: As I said before, we've been condemned to freedom, but the "story" we choose in that freedom, according to postmodernity, is just relative to our experience. In this fragmented situation, Hauerwas says that we must see Christianity as the story of God's people, which trancends cultural and philosophical trends like modernity, postmodernity, and everything that came before and will come after. We see the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus as true, and then become a part of the Church, which is the present manifestation of God's story. When we believe in Jesus, we become part of a community with a history, a significant present, and a future hope. It is this community, not our own autonomous search, that teaches us truth and trains us to be the people we want to be. This rejects modern notions of freedom, and it also provides much more hope than the nihilism of postmodernity.

Postmodern thinkers may object and say "Yes, but you're submitting to a totalizing metanarrative that has caused oppression and will continue to oppress." I (based on much of Hauerwas has said) have two responses: 1) The only other alternative is to try to find truth on your own by choosing a little bit from one place and a little bit from another, meanwhile questioning your own motives and never really being sure of anything for your whole life. And 2) The Christian metanarrative (which John Cunningham, my professor last semester, said is "normative, but non-totalizing") is based on the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. The life of Jesus was entirely guided by servanthood, humility, and love. His death was the ultimate expression of these things, and his resurrection was the assurance that these things are true. Jesus was a much better man than I am, and he is a much better man than I'll ever be. I would rather be a part of a community where I'm going to be trained to be like Jesus than try to discover truth in bits and pieces. Furthermore, Jesus, being God in the flesh, is the one who has shown me that God is real. I am part of the story of God's people, and as part of that community I have a history, a present significance, and a future hope grounded in Jesus.

One of the most exciting things about being a Christian is the adventure. I am learning to discover my place in the story, and it is exciting to discover and learn every day how to be like Jesus, and where God is leading the world around me. And I celebrate that Jesus has given me people with whom I can share this journey who love me, and whom I love.

Here's a verse where Paul tells of the adventure:

"I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:10-14

Easter Reflection

This Easter I asked myself the question "How do we, in a culture that is self-exulting, understand the resurrection?" Most of the time I feel like we need to think more about our vocation as the suffering servant more than as exalted kings. But we are called to live in, and be witnesses to, the resurrection. How do we do so without seeking an inheritance of our own?

This year the idea of the resurrection arrested me. I've been so conscious of our need to bear the burdens of others that the resurrection took me by surprise. The absurdity of that was quite convicting. So here are some thoughts about the resurrection that seek to avoid a pursuit of self-advancement, but also recognize the paramount significance of the resurrection. First of all, we must celebrate the things of God rather than the things of the world. It is easy to find joy in personal success, ambition, recognition, or possessions. But our joy is to be found in Christ and the Kingdom He came to establish. We celebrate the good news that we have life in Jesus, and we celebrate and prioritize the life of others before ourselves. We find joy in seeing the hungry fed, the outcast included, and the sick healed. And these things indeed bring more joy than the narrow tunnel of self-interest.

Another important consideration is that in the life of Christ humility came before exaltation. Suffering came before glory. Jesus came to serve, not to be served, and that vocation continued all the way to the point of his death. He had many opportunities to exalt himself, and the disciples were anxious for him to take the throne by force, but Jesus resisted because he came to the earth to bear the sin of the world on the cross. This was entirely intentional. And because Jesus submitted to the cross God the Father raised Him from the dead. Jesus did not raise himself - he humbled Himself so that God would vindicate Him. This means that as we follow Christ's path, we are to humble ourselves in the world - to become the least, the last, the servants - so that God will vindicate us. But we humble ourselves with the joy set before us that Christ resurrected and sits at the right hand of God, in victory over death. And we do this knowing that our humility and service to the world is what testifies to the life Jesus brings, and it is our humble service that feeds the hungry, includes the outcast, heals the sick, and gives hope to a broken world.

A New Leaf

"Telling stories" is such a buzzy thing these days, and I affirm it. I've been thinking lately about how neat it is to hear obscure stories of people who recorded their experiences throughout history, and I want I want to tell my story more, to give an account of what's happening in the world around me and how I engage with it. It's an act of sharing. I have mistakenly refrained from posts because I feel like I have to come up with something interesting or because I haven't made the time. But I'm going to start posting more because I think I'm supposed to share.

On a different note, this morning I was thinking that human beings, in that they are made in the image of God, are the clearest picture we have of God. The term "image" in Genesis is meant to invoke the idea of "representation." The other cultures of the Ancient Near East had man-made idols which were their "images" of God, but in the Biblical narrative the "image" is a human being. Thus, human beings are the representatives of God. We have corrupted that image with sin, but Jesus, the new Adam, fully employed what human beings were created to be - Jesus is the ultimate image of God.

In short, when we think of God, we should not think of abstract ideas, but rather we should look our fellow human being in the eyes and see God in them. And since Jesus was not tainted as all other human beings are, we can read about his life and see the "exact representation of His nature" (Heb. 1:3). In Jesus we see God, and everything we were meant to be.

A Round of Applause for Humility

When we think about arrogant and boastful people who want to make a name for themselves we first think of those who seek great power and wealth. We think of political leaders and business executives with a competitive drive for self-propagation who will take down anything in their way to make money or get into office. But there is another form of name-making, one which is my personal struggle, and which works much more subtly. It's seeking a name for doing good. It's seeking fame for humility, as ironic as that might sound. When in circles that exalt humility and service, it's easy to lose sight of the purpose and get distracted by people's praises, and to begin to serve people for the praises, whether it be from the person being served or the people that watch. Since this is something I struggle with, here are some things I think about to cope with it:

Beauty over Receiving Praise - these are in tough competition with each other because receiving praise feels great. And I don't think there is anything wrong with saying thank you to compliments or appreciating another person for the good they do. But in terms of what the ultimate goal is, beauty trumps praise. When I am looking around and wondering how people perceive me, I am invariably unfulfilled, or at least my fulfillment is short-lived. But when I'm more intent, excited and appreciative of the beauty of seeing someone's life changed - seeing a struggling student receive an A on a test, seeing a hungry person fed, seeing a depressed person content - the joy is truly unspeakable. When the joy of seeing the kingdom come fills our minds, we will be more excited about serving each other, and our service will be more authentic.

We have been loved first - When I think of the love of Christ for me and all of humanity, the love that led him to the cross, any love I think I have for people pales in comparison. I become humbled because my love is conditional - I like to think I love people, but I'm full of judgment and envy. That is why the commandment is not only to love our neighbor as ourselves, but also to love God- because we need Jesus to change our hearts if we are to love people perfectly.

Celebrating the victory of others as they are my own - this subverts any competition or envy of success. When we see ourselves in a community of people striving for a mutual goal and hope of seeing the world filled with peace and love and wholeness, we work together and have excitement about good things happening, whether they come from us or someone else.

Rest: When I rest and reflect, I rebel against my mindset that I can be a hero and change the world myself. It is an acknowledgment that the world continues when I'm not there. Intentional rest is far from laziness. It is an active rebellion against pride.

And a verse: "Beware of practicing your righteousness before men to be noticed by them; otherwise you have no reward with your Father who is in heaven. So when you give to the poor, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and the streets, so that they may be honored by men. Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full. But when you give to the poor, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving will be in secret; and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you." -Matthew 6:1-4 (and it goes on to say the same things about the hiddenness of prayer and fasting)

So let us not seek to make a name for ourselves from wealth, power, service, sacrifice, humility, spirituality, or any other way. Let us give God the praise, because God is the one from whom love and power, and power for love, comes anyway. And let us get excited about the work God is doing, and take joy in seeing the world changed from our hands and the hands of others.

a week in New Orleans

I returned from New Orleans a few days ago after a week-long trip with the fellows and RUF, one of the Christian fellowship groups at UVa. It was my first time going, so I was excited to finally have the opportunity to see the city.

The day after we arrived we went to the service at Redeemer Presbyterian Church, followed by a potluck lunch to which the whole church was invited. This was typical for them - meals and drinks and good company not only after church but throughout the week. We went to another potluck dinner the night before we left. But that Sunday after we ate, a few of us sat with the pastor Ray Cannata, who told story after story of the past three years in New Orleans.

As Ray was talking, one thing that he said left a significant impression on me. He said that New Orleans is a special place because it paints a bleak picture of the Fall, of brokenness, but at the same time offers a beautiful picture of hope and redemption. The people of New Orleans are continually reminded of the brokenness because most people know someone who died. In the lower 9th Ward the houses are barely touched. The FEMA trailers are going to be taken away soon, leaving people without homes. But even amidst the devastation, there is a sense of community and hope. The people are aware of each other, and of their need for each other, and they take the time to enjoy one another's company. And the rebuilding efforts have fostered a sense of community and working together. The people know that New Orleans will probably not be rebuilt for another 20 years, but they still hope and work for it. (This is all what Ray was saying).

It was encouraging to hear that churches represent 80-90% of the rebuilding efforts. This is a comforting reminder when I start to wonder if the Church cares about restoration and redemption and rebuilding communities. This proves that it does. I of course was self-conscious of going down for a week without really knowing about the situation, taking picture after picture on a voyeuristic drive-by relief vacation. But the people were so welcoming! They wouldn't stop thanking us for coming. It was amazing because they get a rebuilding group from out of town just about every week.

A few more details: We stayed at Camp Hope, which is a dormitory-style camp that houses about 800 people, packed into rooms on cots, with cold showers. We began building a house with habitat for humanity. Our project leader was a guy named Mike who used to be a film student at USC where one of my close friends from Cape Town, Walter Glass, was a student. And He knew him!! Small world. We got to go down to the French Quarter, and we went to Bourbon St. and Frenchman St. to see some great music! I love the music, art, and food in NOLA. It's all interesting - every store and restaurant.

When we were returning we were thinking about how we can make the trip valuable beyond one mere week of visiting. We were thinking about how we might take NOLA home with us. One thing that Ray mentioned was that brokenness and hope is everywhere - it was in New Orleans before Katrina - but what Katrina did was expose it. Brokenness and hope is everywhere, it's just harder to see in other places like Charlottesville. So one thing that I hope to take away is the truth that New Orleans revealed, that this world is a fallen place. But amidst that fallenness, when we work together there is hope - not sentimentality, but a hope where people are appreciating and serving each other and things are actually changing.

If there's any way to put pictures up on this, I'll try to do that.