Saturday Ramblings 11.5.11

Hi-ho, fellow ramblers. It is I, your trusty news broadcaster, back from a recent trip to the local Shady Rest for some tests on the ol’ ticker. It ticks still. The nurses were nice—until, that is, I started arranging wheelchair races. I thought the “Southcrest 500” had a nice ring to it. I suppose the final straw was when I put apple juice in the specimen cup. When the nurse came for it, I started to hand it to her, then said, “This looks kind of cloudy. Let’s put it through one more time,” and drank it down. You know, I didn’t think nurses were supposed to use that kind of language. But what do I know? I’m not a medical professional, just a common ordinary rambler. So, now that I am back home and wearing clothing that covers all of me, what say we ramble on?

First of all, this that has nothing to do with anything. I have several of the Beatles albums that were digitally remastered. Amazing. I now hear instruments I never knew were on those songs. The same with the Pink Floyd remastered CDs. It’s like hearing these albums all over again for the first time. As I write this, I’m listening to the latest “remastered” master: Jethro Tull’s Aqualung. Released as a 40th anniversary tribute, this is truly amazing beyond words. You need to get it and listen over and over again. I know I will.

If you do get this album, you better get it soon. An asteroid the size of an aircraft carrier is schedule to pass by us on Tuesday. It’s trajectory will bring it closer than the moon. What are the chances of it striking the earth? About the same as the Taliban TV system adding TBN to its line-up. At least this time around. Give it a hundred years or so and then we’ll talk about doomsday.

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Wilderness Update

I have had thoughts lately again about vocational matters in my life. A number of different circumstances have come about in which I’ve considered making a few changes — nothing related to my full-time employment at this time, but to things which may determine direction in the future. These kinds of situations come up a few times each year, and when they do I have to take some time to think about them, talk to my wife, consider various ways certain choices might impact our family, get counsel from people I respect, and so on.

One of the searches that has been ongoing throughout my ministerial career has involved denominational affiliation. For some reason, I have never been able to connect to a group and serve within that organization. My early Christian experience discouraged that, as I ministered in the non-denominational world. When I went to seminary at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, they were affiliated with the Evangelical Free Church of America, and one of the reasons I chose Trinity was because at that time I was attracted to the denomination and hoped to have them issue my credentials. To make a long story short, it never happened for a variety of reasons. We ended up moving to the Indianapolis area and becoming part of a non-denominational “community church” movement. I served in churches in that movement for thirteen years, and was ordained through my local congregation.

Even during those years, however, I had this nagging question. I longed to be part of a faith tradition that went deeper than the last church plant. I did a small bit of exploration, talked to a few people, but never seriously pursued anything during those years because we had a stable ministry and we were crazy busy raising kids and just doing life.

Then came my severance from local church ministry, my involvement in hospice chaplaincy, my acquaintance with Michael Spencer (who faced similar frustrations throughout his career), our decision to join a Lutheran church, and this ongoing trek through the post-evangelical wilderness.

We’re still there, but it may be time to make some decisions.

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Bad Monk in Paradise

Gethsemani Journal 2011 (3)
Part three of my journal from a five-day silent retreat at The Abbey of Gethsemani.

• • •

Wednesday, October 13

What a terrible monk I would make! I would need to wear one of those armbands a football quarterback wears. You know, the ones that list all the plays so he can check them during the game.

I still don’t have the schedule here clear in my mind after two days. Last night I set my alarm for 2 am because I had gotten it in my mind that Vigils was at 2:15. It is at 3:15. So after barely sleeping a wink I awoke, splashed water on my face, dressed, and went out and sat in a dark church. Where was everyone? One monk was down there, sitting in his stall. (Perhaps he needs an armband too, or something to help him sleep.)

Realizing my error after about fifteen minutes of nothing happening, I went back to my room and laid down until the alarm, now correctly set, woke me again. The Vigil service contained some longer psalms, and these were spoken responsively, not chanted. A good number of retreatants joined me in the balcony, some wrapped in blankets.

Afterwards, I went back to bed, and now I was truly sleepy. So sleepy, in fact, that my sluggish mind imagined that Mass came after the 7:30 Terce service rather than after 5:45 Lauds. I snoozed through the earlier services, got up, showered, and went downstairs thinking to get some breakfast.

Too late. I grabbed an apple and a cup of coffee and uttered the sigh of the clueless.

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Naked Emperor, Part Two: The Americanization Of God

I started a series last week called The Naked Emperor. It is one man’s look at the empty shell of evangelicalism. I said that I have been intimately involved in what I call the “evangelical circus” for way too long. And while others have said, “What lovely clothes the emperor is wearing,” I have seen this “emperor” as naked but have been afraid to say so. Now I am saying so. Now I am saying that the emperor has no clothes. Evangelicalism, at least on the whole, is void of depth. It is smoke and mirrors designed to bring people under the tent to enjoy a good show. But all it has to feed these people is cotton candy.

Today I want to look at one of three tentpoles erected to prop up the evangelical circus big-top, the Americanization of God.

American Exceptionalism

The Americanization of God is not a new phenomenon. Its roots go back to one of the greatest of American theologians and philosophers, Jonathan Edwards. It was his writings and sermons that proclaimed that revivalism in the New World would usher in the Kingdom of God. Edwards was an early proponent of the idea that one must have a personal relationship with God in order to know he was saved. And being very American, Edward’s God—with whom one was to have a relationship—took on distinctive American qualities. Independence and self-reliance were among the most important of these.

Americans became very parochial, especially right after the Revolutionary War. We were the new chosen people, elected by God to lead the way in the world. There existed a “manifest destiny” to which we were called to take over lands from those who were ignorant, those who didn’t follow the same God we did. If we saw it and liked it, then it was right for us to make it ours.

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I’m Still Here

Well my friends, it has been a week. Since so many of you have been kind enough to write to me asking how I am doing health-wise, I thought I would give you a bit of an update. If this is boring to you (and I don’t blame you if it is), I suggest you go back and re-read Chaplain Mike’s Gethsemani journals. (And yes, I am officially jealous of him for getting to spend a whole week there.)

I have still been struggling with extreme weakness, numbness in my face and left arm, blurred vision, etc. Last Thursday night I was feeling these same symptoms, but I also had a lot of chest pain. It felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. Friday I struggled through eight hours of helping people find things at Target. When I got off work I drove myself to ER where the doctor on duty had just been in my electronics department a few days earlier. (I’m glad I took good care of him!) As soon as I said “It felt like an elephant sitting on my chest,” I had a room reserved for me at the Shady Rest.

For the next four days I underwent all kinds of tests. Blood work-up. Ultrasound of my heart. Ultrasound of my carotid. Chest x-ray. All normal. Then Monday morning I underwent a stress test. While my heart was jacked up, I had pain that was almost unbearable. Then they scanned my heart to see what was going on when the rate was elevated. I flunked that test. At least that’s what the cardiologist said to me. He scheduled me for an angiogram the next morning.

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Good News is Just the Beginning

Over the past decade, a cottage industry has grown and and is now flourishing among American Christian leaders and teachers that has focused on defining the Gospel. Many factors account for this.

We live in a decidedly non-doctrinaire age, and the “Gospel” discussion has formed in response to that. Through the influence of the church growth movement in particular, American Christianity has embraced pragmatic approaches that emphasize “heart” religion over “head” religion. The breakdown of Protestant mainline denominations has blurred dogmatic distinctions held by the historic traditions. Reform movements and an influx of evangelicals into Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy have broken down walls and opened increasing dialogue among those who previously lived in entirely different worlds. Non-denominational churches with simple vanilla statements of faith have proliferated. Culture wars have transformed the minds of evangelicals, leading them to view issues of social morality and justice as of more immediate relevance than doctrine. Within the world of the Protestant theological academy, new ways of thinking about the Bible and the message its story tells — perhaps epitomized best by the “New Perspective” and its advocates such as Bishop N.T. Wright — have challenged traditional Reformation formulations and provoked much argument and debate.

Into this debate, Scot McKnight has stepped, offering a well-reasoned, well-written presentation and defense of what he calls, The King Jesus Gospel: The Original Good News Revisited. His main thesis is that contemporary Christianity (particularly the U.S. version) has reduced the Gospel to a message of personal salvation. As a result, the Christians we are discipling and the churches we are building are not being established in a “Gospel” culture, but rather a “salvation” culture. Many of us are not truly “evangelicals” (Gospel people) but “soterians” (salvation people). Scot sees this inadequate message as the source of many problems in the church today.

I agree with him. But what I want to say in this response is that clarifying the message is only a beginning. The right message, by itself, is not enough. If we do not institute other reforms, a better message will not change much.

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Why Have I Come Here?

Gethsemani Journal 2011 (2)
This is from a journal of my experiences on my second day (and first full day) at Gethsemani Abbey.

• • •

Tuesday, October 12

I did not sleep well. The bed was fine, but I am used to sleeping with two pillows and I could not find the right position. (In the morning I discovered a second pillow above the closet.) I had also forgotten to take my sinus medicine. Most of all, I am not accustomed to going to bed so early, especially after a restful day. This is all part of getting used to the rhythm. How this body affects my spirit!

The alarm went off at 5 am. I hit the snooze, but then got up anyway and headed to the shower. Upon my return, I heard the alarm going off. I had forgotten to disable it completely. What an annoying sound echoing through these silent halls. May my fellow retreatants forgive me.

In the 5:45 service (Lauds, and then Mass), I sat downstairs in the church so that I could move forward easily when we were invited forward for Mass. Not having had my coffee, my mind was dull and relatively insensible throughout the services, which I found nevertheless lovely in their simplicity. How do these monks push through their prayers — eight times a day! — with hearts and minds that get numb?

At breakfast I continued reading The Sign of Jonas, which is turning out to be a good companion for this experience, being Merton’s own journal of his life at Gethsemani.

You have made my soul for Your peace and Your silence, but it is lacerated by the noise of my activity and my desires. My mind is crucified all day by its own hunger for experience, for ideas, for satisfaction. And I do not possess my house in silence. But I was created for Your peace and You will not despise my longing for the holiness of Your deep silence, O my Lord. You will not leave me forever in this sorrow, because I have trusted in You, and I will wait upon Your good pleasure in peace and without complaining any more. This, for Your glory.

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When Christians Won the Culture War

I was once alive apart from the law, but when the commandment came, sin revived and I died, and the very commandment that promised life proved to be death to me. (Romans 7:9-10, NRSV)

• • •

There was a time in the United States when Christians got deeply involved in the political process over issues of grave moral concern, and fought a long and difficult culture war against those they saw as purveyors of evil. And they won.

Much of this Christian engagement with the culture grew out of spiritual revival, which from an evangelical standpoint is exactly where all such reforms should begin. The Gospel had been preached. People had been saved and their lives transformed. Churches had been planted. Entire regions of the country had been Christianized.

Spiritual awakening led to concern about the state of the family, particularly with regard to the roles and responsibilities of men within the home. Certain practices and institutions were corrupting men and threatening to destroy families, leaving the most vulnerable exposed through the torn moral fabric of communities around the country.

This moral crusade took place in the midst of a technological revolution that had led people out of their more conservative towns and villages into the cities, where looser structures of community did not promote traditional patterns of social connection and accountability. Christians and moral conservatives feared that these relaxed circumstances would lead to irresponsible behavior, an increase in sexual promiscuity, and a host of other unacceptable lifestyle choices, with the result that America would become morally bankrupt.

This culture war was also fought during a period of increasing cultural diversity in America, as waves of immigrants flowed into her cities. Their unfamiliar practices, languages, cultural standards, and religious affiliations threatened those who saw the United States primarily as a white, conservative, Protestant nation.

Christian involvement in political life increased dramatically during this culture war as astute politicians, lobbyists, preachers, and “parachurch” groups organized grassroots support and activism through the churches. They focused their efforts on a single issue and encouraged Christians to “take our country back.” This singular focus gave energy and direction to their efforts, but in the end, the cause ultimately may have been undone by their insistence that only an extreme position was acceptable.

Sound familiar?

The parallels are striking to the way Christians have fought culture wars in our own day. However, today I am speaking of a campaign that took place in the 19th and early 20th centuries — the culture war that led to the 18th Amendment for Prohibition.

Perhaps we would be wise to consider what “winning” that culture war wrought.

Continue reading “When Christians Won the Culture War”

Into the Silence

Gethsemani Journal 2011 (1)
During my days at Gethsemani, I kept a journal of my thoughts, observations, and reflections. This week, I will share excerpts from these daily notes.

• • •

Monday, October 10

Getting away from home is never easy. In addition to normal packing chores — simple for this trip — I had paperwork to turn in to my office, emails to write, some medical statements to get together for Gail, and a hundred little distractions that kept me from getting out the door. However, soon after she kissed me goodbye and went to work, I took one last look around, got in the car, and pulled out of the driveway.

The highway traffic was not bad, thankfully, though I had to stop myself a few times from entering into “commuter combat” mode as my fellow travelers did the equivalent of pushing and shoving their way down the line of cars and trucks. We all had to slow down through a few back-ups here and there caused by poor souls with car trouble or in construction zones. But I saw nothing as serious on our side of the road as the situation faced by those coming north. At one point they were backed up in a miles-long string of slowing and stopped vehicles that was being diverted off of I-65 because of a truck fire. I guarantee those drivers were not keeping vows of silence.

The morning was pleasant. Blue skies were breaking through the white swirly clouds more and more as I made my way south, until the Kentucky countryside fairly shimmered under a fully unveiled sun. The directions were exact, and I soon found myself pulling up to The Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani, south of Bardstown. Continue reading “Into the Silence”