I found this article incredibly insightful, a great challenge to the Christian church, and a breath of fresh air to those in our congregations whose experience of Christianity is as a stifling coffin which the church has constructed for their souls.
Can the church rise to the challenge and be a redemptive community that mediates the love of God to those whose cross to bear is heavier than our own?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Does God Get Disappointed?
Here's a quote from Obama on disappointment and motivation:
"I'm not a shouter. I find that what was always effective with me as a kid, and Michelle and I find it effective with our kids, is just making people feel really guilty. Like 'Boy, I am disappointed in you. I expected so much more.' And I think people generally want to do the right thing, and if you're clear to them about what that right thing is, and if they see you doing the right thing, then that gives you some leverage. Hollering at people isn't usually that effective. Now, there are exceptions. There are times where guilt doesn't work, and then you have to use fear."
Does God motivate us with guilt and disappointment? Disappointment generally has a lot to do with failed expectations. Do we fail to meet God's expectations? Are commandments and expectations the same thing, because obviously we fail to obey his commands? Disappointment in our culture is viewed as a positive thing (as exemplified by our President), but is it really a creative force that enables people to fulfill their purpose?
I've had this conversation with a number of people lately and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.
"I'm not a shouter. I find that what was always effective with me as a kid, and Michelle and I find it effective with our kids, is just making people feel really guilty. Like 'Boy, I am disappointed in you. I expected so much more.' And I think people generally want to do the right thing, and if you're clear to them about what that right thing is, and if they see you doing the right thing, then that gives you some leverage. Hollering at people isn't usually that effective. Now, there are exceptions. There are times where guilt doesn't work, and then you have to use fear."
Does God motivate us with guilt and disappointment? Disappointment generally has a lot to do with failed expectations. Do we fail to meet God's expectations? Are commandments and expectations the same thing, because obviously we fail to obey his commands? Disappointment in our culture is viewed as a positive thing (as exemplified by our President), but is it really a creative force that enables people to fulfill their purpose?
I've had this conversation with a number of people lately and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Something to Ponder About Our Economy
This quote caught me off guard today, it was a part of a larger article that I tended to disagree with not because of the facts, but rather because of what to do about the facts. But never-the-less the reality is stunning and the question comes to us, "has the American economic juggernaut finally exhuasted itself?" I am not sure the answer is to give away free money, but when people are working more and more for less and less money we will inevitably end up in the crisis that we find ourselves in.
"The bursting of the housing bubble caused the current crisis, but the underlying problem began much earlier -- in the late 1970s, when median U.S. incomes began to stall. Because wages got hit then by the double-whammy of global competition and new technologies, the typical American family was able to maintain its living standard only if women went into the workforce in larger numbers, and later, only if everyone worked longer hours.
When even these coping mechanisms were exhausted, families went into debt -- a strategy that was viable as long as home values continued to rise. But when the housing bubble burst, families were no longer able to easily refinance and take out home-equity loans. The result: Americans no longer have the money to keep consuming. When you consider that consumers make up 70 percent of the economy, the magnitude of the problem becomes apparent.
What happened to the money? According to researchers Thomas Piketty and Emmanuel Saez, since the late 1970s, a greater and greater share of national income has gone to people at the top of the earnings ladder. As late as 1976, the richest 1 percent of the country took home about 9 percent of the total national income. By 2006, they were pocketing more than 20 percent. But the rich don't spend as much of their income as the middle class and the poor do -- after all, being rich means that you already have most of what you need. That's why the concentration of income at the top can lead to a big shortfall in overall demand and send the economy into a tailspin. (It's not coincidental that 1928 was the last time that the top 1 percent took home more than 20 percent of the nation's income.)"
The question I pose to you is, "how do we ethically and responsibly create an economy that tends away from the concentration of wealth in the top eschelons of society, without creating an excessively powerful or cumbersome government to enforce those standards?"
"The bursting of the housing bubble caused the current crisis, but the underlying problem began much earlier -- in the late 1970s, when median U.S. incomes began to stall. Because wages got hit then by the double-whammy of global competition and new technologies, the typical American family was able to maintain its living standard only if women went into the workforce in larger numbers, and later, only if everyone worked longer hours.
When even these coping mechanisms were exhausted, families went into debt -- a strategy that was viable as long as home values continued to rise. But when the housing bubble burst, families were no longer able to easily refinance and take out home-equity loans. The result: Americans no longer have the money to keep consuming. When you consider that consumers make up 70 percent of the economy, the magnitude of the problem becomes apparent.
What happened to the money? According to researchers Thomas Piketty and Emmanuel Saez, since the late 1970s, a greater and greater share of national income has gone to people at the top of the earnings ladder. As late as 1976, the richest 1 percent of the country took home about 9 percent of the total national income. By 2006, they were pocketing more than 20 percent. But the rich don't spend as much of their income as the middle class and the poor do -- after all, being rich means that you already have most of what you need. That's why the concentration of income at the top can lead to a big shortfall in overall demand and send the economy into a tailspin. (It's not coincidental that 1928 was the last time that the top 1 percent took home more than 20 percent of the nation's income.)"
The question I pose to you is, "how do we ethically and responsibly create an economy that tends away from the concentration of wealth in the top eschelons of society, without creating an excessively powerful or cumbersome government to enforce those standards?"
Monday, January 26, 2009
Having Our Needs Met By the Lord of Glory
The eucharist is a proclamation of salvation in which we consume Christ who truly meets our needs while simultaneously proclaiming Him Lord. The goods and services in our market saturated society function as a false eucharist which has the embedded proclamtion that we consume to meet our needs while we remain Lord.
There is a delightful article in this month's Christianity Today by Tyler Wigg-Stevenson titled "Jesus Is Not a Brand." I encourage your to read it. Here's a couple of my favorite quotes:
"But the choice for Christ is not arbitrary. If a disgruntled Chevy man switches to Ford, Chevy loses and Ford gains; if we desert Christ in favor of another god, he is not diminished. Brand superiority is in the mind of the consumer, but Christ's divinity and worth are his own, regardless of what we think of him. He does not need our bumper stickers or T-shirts. These tell the world far more about who we are and what we like than they do about him."
"Because niche segmentation enables marketers to target their messages to narrower audiences, it is reflected in our advertising. Moreover, it has allowed us to live lives that are increasingly tailor-made to our personal preferences. We live in neighborhoods of single-family homes populated by people like us, go to church with people like us, consume media targeted at people like us, and shop with people like us. All of this makes us more reluctant to inhabit a world with people who are not like us."
There is a delightful article in this month's Christianity Today by Tyler Wigg-Stevenson titled "Jesus Is Not a Brand." I encourage your to read it. Here's a couple of my favorite quotes:
"But the choice for Christ is not arbitrary. If a disgruntled Chevy man switches to Ford, Chevy loses and Ford gains; if we desert Christ in favor of another god, he is not diminished. Brand superiority is in the mind of the consumer, but Christ's divinity and worth are his own, regardless of what we think of him. He does not need our bumper stickers or T-shirts. These tell the world far more about who we are and what we like than they do about him."
"Because niche segmentation enables marketers to target their messages to narrower audiences, it is reflected in our advertising. Moreover, it has allowed us to live lives that are increasingly tailor-made to our personal preferences. We live in neighborhoods of single-family homes populated by people like us, go to church with people like us, consume media targeted at people like us, and shop with people like us. All of this makes us more reluctant to inhabit a world with people who are not like us."
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Nights at Home
When I was younger and single there was nothing to be avoided more than a night at home. Not because my family was unbearable or because home was a bad place but rather because there was so much in me that wanted out - opportunity meant freedom. There was so much that could happen, so many little adventures to go on. One time we started at Viejas and ended up in TJ. Another time I ended up riding a train in the snow. There were some great nights at Cafe Bassam (which I just discovered is now in Hillcrest and not downtown). The guys at Churchill's fast became acquainted with us as our crew swelled from 3 or 4 thirsty 22 year olds to a mess of youthful vigor and foolishness. Yup, I spent a lot of nights out, and I loved it for what it was.
But when I laid my head down to sleep I was all alone.
Now I usually get home from work and don't leave until the next morning. But what blessed hours those are. I open the door and sometimes Manoah runs to me and gives me a hug then grabs my hand and leads me on a journey he has traced and retraced a number of times that day with mommy. Sometimes I open the door and Manoah barely notices because his attention is captivated by the dirt he is meticulously transferring from one pile to the other. Anjuli is always glad to see me, I think, partly I am sure because I can relieve her of some of her parental duties. But I believe also because she genuinely misses me... I know this because nearly every day she tells me that she wants me to stay home from work to hang out. I also know this because every day she tells me that she loves me.
I don't go out much at all anymore. But when I lay my head down to sleep my heart is full and my cup it overflows.
But when I laid my head down to sleep I was all alone.
Now I usually get home from work and don't leave until the next morning. But what blessed hours those are. I open the door and sometimes Manoah runs to me and gives me a hug then grabs my hand and leads me on a journey he has traced and retraced a number of times that day with mommy. Sometimes I open the door and Manoah barely notices because his attention is captivated by the dirt he is meticulously transferring from one pile to the other. Anjuli is always glad to see me, I think, partly I am sure because I can relieve her of some of her parental duties. But I believe also because she genuinely misses me... I know this because nearly every day she tells me that she wants me to stay home from work to hang out. I also know this because every day she tells me that she loves me.
I don't go out much at all anymore. But when I lay my head down to sleep my heart is full and my cup it overflows.
Monday, December 29, 2008
December 29th
one year ago today i left. the picture at the top of my blog is the view i enjoyed for three weeks. vaughn bay, olympic moutains, and a family of geese whose chatter made me not feel so alone.
i remember one night, after all my fears had risen to code red, i could have sworn there were demons outside. fear does crazy things to you... i found out that fear had less to do with demons and more to do with my cell phone, my mom and dad, disappointment, anger, and parents of middle school students. fear left me trapped, and yet my sovereign self would not relinquish it "sometimes we hold onto fear just in case we need it." it is a strange dynamic holding onto something that won't let go of you - there's no saying who has the mastery.
i went on a brief walk this afternoon to reflect with mr. God about how things have been going. i am happy to report that i am actually less afraid than i used to be, less driven by anxiety, guilt, and disappointment. there is that old part of me still holding power, that part that still needs to pacify mom and keep dad from being disappointed. but there is in me a child, the voice of whom i heard for the first time on a cold evening on the shores of the puget sound, who is fearless. this child is rooted in the love of God. A child who believes relentlessly that "there is only love" a child who thinks disappointment is a silly thing, and for whom pain is not something to be feared, but to be embraced as part of a great journey (kind of like the way the bashes and bruises hurt in mud football).
I don't want to say too much, so I'll simply say thank you to the long lonely days, the cold and windy nights, i'll say thank you to my geese friends, and to that old broke-down ford truck, i'll say thank you to bryan, anjuli, manoah, but most of all i'll say thank you to Jesus who has never left me.
i remember one night, after all my fears had risen to code red, i could have sworn there were demons outside. fear does crazy things to you... i found out that fear had less to do with demons and more to do with my cell phone, my mom and dad, disappointment, anger, and parents of middle school students. fear left me trapped, and yet my sovereign self would not relinquish it "sometimes we hold onto fear just in case we need it." it is a strange dynamic holding onto something that won't let go of you - there's no saying who has the mastery.
i went on a brief walk this afternoon to reflect with mr. God about how things have been going. i am happy to report that i am actually less afraid than i used to be, less driven by anxiety, guilt, and disappointment. there is that old part of me still holding power, that part that still needs to pacify mom and keep dad from being disappointed. but there is in me a child, the voice of whom i heard for the first time on a cold evening on the shores of the puget sound, who is fearless. this child is rooted in the love of God. A child who believes relentlessly that "there is only love" a child who thinks disappointment is a silly thing, and for whom pain is not something to be feared, but to be embraced as part of a great journey (kind of like the way the bashes and bruises hurt in mud football).
I don't want to say too much, so I'll simply say thank you to the long lonely days, the cold and windy nights, i'll say thank you to my geese friends, and to that old broke-down ford truck, i'll say thank you to bryan, anjuli, manoah, but most of all i'll say thank you to Jesus who has never left me.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
A Good Day
I think I was 21 years old. Morgan, Landon, and myself decided one afternoon to embark on a journey. I think we left San Luis around 9pm one night and arrived at Jalama to catch some shut eye before our clandestine entry into the legendary Bixby ranch. I distinctly remember the clasp of the flag clanging against the flagpole throughout the few sleepless hours... not that it mattered, an uncomfortable bed made on the asphalt, coupled with the anticipation of finding what our hopes were set on meant little by way of rest.
Around 3am we rolled up our sleeping bags, slung our packs around our backs and grabbed our boards. I brought my 6'4" single fin. Risky. If the waves were small I'd have been super bummed. Landon and Morgan brought their thrusters; wise choices, good all around boards. Never-the-less off we went under the stars. We followed the train tracks which run along the coast of both the Bixby and Hollister ranches. The anticipation reached a peak at this point as I became keenly aware that at any moment the notoriously fierce Bixby ranch hands could waylay us and we'd be faced with a legendary choice (either an encounter with the Sheriff or a broken board, or worse a cattle brand "BR" on the buttocks).
We continued for nearly 2 1/2 hours until the sun began to rise just as we began to reach Government Point. We quickly made our way for the bluffs to find cover. Somewhere in this process we were suprised by another 18 yr old kid name Landon Smith (the same as my friend Landon), who seemed to have crawled straight out of a hobbit hole with a surfboard. He showed us a more appropriate hiding/resting place. From about 6:30 until 7 we got a few moments of uneasy rest on a bed of iceplant.
Standing up and looking in front of us all we saw from the indicator of the point was... Nothing. It looked flat, no waves. But here we were, no where to go, no escaping until the cover of night. Might as well get wet I figured, but I did have the sinking feeling that we were going to get skunked, a monumental risk for nothing.
I suited up and paddled out with Landon, Morgan would join us a few minutes later. The current was pulling us around the point, and Landon was the first to catch a wave. He just disappeared, for at least 5 minutes. I was confused, what could possibly take so long.
Then it happened.
150 - 200 yards later I fell lazily off my board, legs burning. I had never experienced anything like that. And they just kept coming, wave after wave for 9 hours. We rode together 3-5 ft perfection almost completely alone. Turn after turn, cutback after cutback, the feeling of absolute joy began to pervade my body, deep, down into the marrow.
Near the end of the day a helicopter landed on the beach and two guys paddle out... A freaking helicopter! They scored when the waves began to reach their pinnacle of perfection 200 yards of hollow green beauty for the five of us to enjoy. They got to ride back home on a whirlybird, we had a 3 hour hike to look forward to, then a two hour drive.
When we reached the car I was completely exhausted, trying desperately to be a good friend and keep my eyes open and mouth moving for Morgan, who was driving. I simply couldn't. Thank you Morgan for staying awake so I could remember that day.
Landon, Morgan, myself, and perfect waves.
A good day.
Around 3am we rolled up our sleeping bags, slung our packs around our backs and grabbed our boards. I brought my 6'4" single fin. Risky. If the waves were small I'd have been super bummed. Landon and Morgan brought their thrusters; wise choices, good all around boards. Never-the-less off we went under the stars. We followed the train tracks which run along the coast of both the Bixby and Hollister ranches. The anticipation reached a peak at this point as I became keenly aware that at any moment the notoriously fierce Bixby ranch hands could waylay us and we'd be faced with a legendary choice (either an encounter with the Sheriff or a broken board, or worse a cattle brand "BR" on the buttocks).
We continued for nearly 2 1/2 hours until the sun began to rise just as we began to reach Government Point. We quickly made our way for the bluffs to find cover. Somewhere in this process we were suprised by another 18 yr old kid name Landon Smith (the same as my friend Landon), who seemed to have crawled straight out of a hobbit hole with a surfboard. He showed us a more appropriate hiding/resting place. From about 6:30 until 7 we got a few moments of uneasy rest on a bed of iceplant.
Standing up and looking in front of us all we saw from the indicator of the point was... Nothing. It looked flat, no waves. But here we were, no where to go, no escaping until the cover of night. Might as well get wet I figured, but I did have the sinking feeling that we were going to get skunked, a monumental risk for nothing.
I suited up and paddled out with Landon, Morgan would join us a few minutes later. The current was pulling us around the point, and Landon was the first to catch a wave. He just disappeared, for at least 5 minutes. I was confused, what could possibly take so long.
Then it happened.
150 - 200 yards later I fell lazily off my board, legs burning. I had never experienced anything like that. And they just kept coming, wave after wave for 9 hours. We rode together 3-5 ft perfection almost completely alone. Turn after turn, cutback after cutback, the feeling of absolute joy began to pervade my body, deep, down into the marrow.
Near the end of the day a helicopter landed on the beach and two guys paddle out... A freaking helicopter! They scored when the waves began to reach their pinnacle of perfection 200 yards of hollow green beauty for the five of us to enjoy. They got to ride back home on a whirlybird, we had a 3 hour hike to look forward to, then a two hour drive.
When we reached the car I was completely exhausted, trying desperately to be a good friend and keep my eyes open and mouth moving for Morgan, who was driving. I simply couldn't. Thank you Morgan for staying awake so I could remember that day.
Landon, Morgan, myself, and perfect waves.
A good day.
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