As of this instant, Aidan, Lindsay and I are effectively in Colorado. Picture me climbing Long’s Peak. Picture Lindsay walking by an alpine brook. Picture Aidan spelunking in a marmot burrow. God permitting, this trip will include some eye-popping, calf-stretching hikes, some life-enhancing books, and some crisp mornings spent by the campfire sipping dark Roasterie coffee with chocolaty undertones. Pictures will be taken, notes will be jotted, prayers will spontaneously form, and the world will seem a better place.
Back here on the blog, the discussion of Mark Driscoll’s book, Confessions of a Reformission Rev. will continue during the week. The guys contributing are sharp, very into the emerging church & contemporary culture, and able to shoot off clutch comments at a moment’s notice.
Have a great week, I’ll be back on Sunday.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Were Outta Here
Email Subscription Update (Yutter)
One of the blog’s email subscribers asked me why the BitterSweetLife email updates had stopped showing up in her inbox. I immediately realized this was a very good question, and headed over to Yutter to see what was going on. Some kind of technical glitch, was my guess.
You could say I was surprised when I discovered a disaster of epic proportions, involving malpractice and an upcoming lawsuit. I really feel for David B. of Yutter, with whom I've corresponded. The end result here is that Yutter is not currently available and my email sub list has apparently been deleted by some thugs masquerading as online providers. Zap—several dozen readers [backspaced] into thin air.
What to do? For now, I’m reinstating Feedblitz for email subscriptions. If you’re a previous email subscriber, you’ll have to sign up again (sigh). I only hope that some of you will find your way to this explanation.
If you happen to know anyone who had an email subscription, do me a favor and clue ‘em in. Of course, now’s as good a time as any to sign up for the first time. (Go ahead and do it, you’ll make me feel better.)
Going the Long Way Around
The Israelites didn’t have SUVs, but they could have made the trip to the promised land in four to six weeks. Instead, God left them to cool their heels in the desert for forty years until they learned important moral lessons.
The Israelites were so chicken-livered and mistrustful that they frantically tried to stock up on the edible Jesus merchandise of their day—manna from heaven—while threatening to lynch their leaders—Moses and Aaron—over every minor emergency. (Being thirsty in a desert constitutes a minor emergency when your trail guide is Yahweh, who can part seas and convert granite to bubbling H20.)
When these antics didn’t “work,” the people cued up a national whining campaign with the idea of justifying their incredibly girly faith. With the tagline of, “Just look at all these sand burrs!” it’s no wonder that God was not impressed—thus a God/nation rift occurred. Quickly, a couple things become obvious.
- These people were idiots.
- These people were a lot like us.
The post-Exodus Israel seemed to have maintained a stubborn reluctance to actually encounter God themselves (he was too scary), shoving this chore off on Moses—who was consequently blessed, consoled, and protected personally by Yahweh. When the nation of Israel realized that not only had God freed them from slavery in Egypt, but he also intended to lead them to Canaan, they immediately got to work trying to make him more manageable, since he was set on sticking around.
Via an idol-making session and various rallies and protests (“Give us sloppy Joes with onions like we got in Egypt!"), Israel tried to compel God to stop being God and order his servant Moses to massage their bruised egos. God proved he wasn’t interested in collective bargaining by sending poisonous snakes and a killer angel to execute the most rebellious of the dissidents, and by spectacularly turning the tables on Moses’ would-be assassins.
Finally, in a master-stroke of recalcitrant timidity, Israel refused to enter the promised land when they stood on its borders.
God: “Cross the borders and take control of this second Eden I’m giving you. The cows will milk themselves and the bees will line up their hives for tasting sessions. There are cities with fully-furnished loft apartments waiting for you, and you’ll win glory by defeating the current residents, even though I’m guaranteeing your victory.”
Israel: "How do we know you're not just saying the fight is rigged?"
God: “That’s it. Forty years in the wilderness.”
I’ve been thinking that in some way or other, we have all been taking the long way around.
Kansas Blog Carnival
My friend John B. over at Blog Meridian is hosting the Kansas Blog Carnival this week, and in tribute to that magnificent state, and to John's typical generosity, I'm encouraging you to head over and enter the Carnival grounds. You need to sign up today (Sunday), which takes all of 60 seconds, so that:
"On Monday dozens (perhaps) of visitors here will see and maybe even click on a link that will bring them to your post--and, of course, your site, if you're into all that stuff about increasing traffic at your blog. At the very least, and far more importantly, you'll be sharing your wit and erudition with a few more people than might otherwise be the case. Which is why y'all took up blogging to begin with, isn't it?"To qualify for the
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Mark DeVine on Narrative Theology
Mark DeVine, my historically astute, wise-cracking Theology professor has finally got around to updating his blog, DeVine Theology. His take on "narrative theology," the perspective on the Bible that looks for unifying "storylines," comes highly recommended. (That's assuming my recommendation counts for something.)
DeVine begins by noting that Narrative theology has successfully "retrieved" the Bible from those who would prefer to cut it up into small pieces and throw darts at the fragments in order to decide upon dates and authorship. He goes on to point out, however: Narrative theology and preaching has gotten cocky in some quarters and has settled for “making an impression,” on listeners while drawing back from “making a point” or shall we say, from making a propositional truth point. Here is an example of a propositional truth point some narrative enamored preachers eschew—“the God who inspired the Old and New Testaments, because he is all wise and all loving, condemns homosexual behavior.”
"Impressions" don't generally result in changed lives and deliberately firing synapses. And the "propositional truth point" DeVine gives definitely thuds home in some quarters. (Are you listening, Brian McLaren?) DeVine goes on to point out that Narrative and Propositional forms of Theology are not really in tension:But must serious, sermon-style-shaping adjustment to the various literary genres encountered in the Bible (many of which are NOT narrative by the way) pit appreciation for the community creating, emotion tapping power of story against the acknowledgement and celebration of propositional truth, whether explicitly stated or implicitly embedded within biblical texts? I doubt it. Indeed, the greatest preachers from Chrysostom (c.347-407) to Spurgeon (1834-1892) to Truett (1867-1944) to Criswell (1909-2002) have long combined powerful use of story with unashamed truth telling (propositions and all) not only without imagining that the two were really somehow enemies but recognizing that they are the best of friends.
DeVine closes with a point that should make some preachers, including many Baptists, blush.Three-point proposition pushers who dare to insist that the Scriptures demand a particular sermon style for all ages or any age for that matter are going beyond what the Bible teaches. Narrative proponents who deny or otherwise side-step the propositional truth palpably present throughout the Bible fall short of what the Scriptures make clear.
I had intended to just mention that the piece was up, but I got carried away and walked through my favorite paragraphs. There's still more to be read, though. Go get it: Narrative Preaching: Promise and Pitfalls
Mark Driscoll - Community & Culture
I haven’t finished Confessions of a Reformission Rev. yet, but I’m making fast progress. In Chapter Zero, which is a kind of preface, Mark Driscoll lays some groundwork for the subsequent chapters, which come up fast and furious, in-your-face autobiographical style. Lindsay, who has finished the book, says that Chapter Zero is like the enjoyable click-click-click or a roller coaster ratcheting up to the starting point before the white-knuckle terror and tension of the real ride begin. Nice.
Here are a few thoughts from the pre-roller coaster phase. For starters, I like Driscoll’s approach to culture and theology. On page 22 he writes:The emerging church* welcomes the tension of holding in one closed hand the unchanging truth of evangelical Christian theology (Jude 3) and holding in one open hand the many cultural ways of showing and speaking Christian truth as a missionary to America (1 Corinthians 9:19-23). [emphasis mine - see below]
Note that Driscoll isn’t saying that Christians should desperately run after the culture in an attempt to make Jesus relevant. Culture here, if I understand Driscoll correctly, becomes a delivery system for Christian truth—which is no insult to culture.
Later, Driscoll posits the question: Will your church have a mission of community or be a community of mission? He explains (page 32):Without a clear definition of what a missional church community is and does, tragically, community will become the mission of the church. Consequently, the goal of people will be to hang out together in love, like the family they never had. While this is not evil, it is also not sufficient.
I think Driscoll nails a common misapplication of “community” here. A sincere delusion about church family results in a group of ingrown people (i.e., Christian subculture) who fail to realize they must make inroads into their surrounding culture and communities as missionaries (i.e., “missional church community”). The upshot? A defining “missional” vision, not a repetitive focus on “community,” is what unites a church.
This principle could be illustrated in virtually any setting. A hoops team deeply focused on cutting down the nets in March will very likely become united. In the same way, a church committed to Christ’s mandate to “love your neighbor as yourself” will find themselves learning to live and work as a cohesive unit, like a body with many parts (Paul). Driscoll sums up these thoughts by saying, “Community is an effect of mission but not an effective mission” (page 33).
There are other points of interest in Chapter Zero (tough leaders, “shooting your dogs”), but I’ll let someone else mention them, or bring them up later, since I have a feeling that they’ll be recurring themes.
So, any thoughts on Driscoll’s culture and community stances?
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* In Driscoll’s book, “emerging church” should be understood as referring to “a growing, loosely connected movement of primarily young pastors who are glad to see the end of modernity and are seeking to function as missionaries who bring the gospel of Jesus Christ to emerging and postmodern cultures” (page 22).
As noted in the quote above, this movement is committed to biblical, orthodox theology, while engaging freely with changing culture to convey Christ’s unchanging gospel effectively.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Weekend Photo: Espresso Blue
I'm not under the illusion that this picture is anything special, but I haven't been able to get out much the last couple weeks, so I'm forced to settle for therapeutic commonality over innovative freshness. Hope you enjoy this close-up view of my renowned espresso maker.
Also, check out the Friday Photo Flickr group.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Mountains on the Horizon
On Monday I'll be driving to the Rocky Mountain National Park near Estes Park, Colorado, and camping in the shadow of Long's Peak - the objective of a long-anticipated summit attempt. I'll have more to say about this, possibly before I leave, and if not then, definitely when I return. To set the tone for upcoming Mountain posts, I present to you this piece from last summer.
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Mountain Haunting
Mountains, these ones anyway, make me happy and alive and sad. I feel slightly drawn out and pulled away from myself. Maybe it’s the mist, mocking my 20/20 vision, maybe it’s my relative size as I inch up the side of the megalith—but I am strangely objective. I’m looking back at myself, the various smaller versions, each with his visions and aspirations.
Everything seems beautiful and painfully imperfect, and I include the mountains in that statement. Swirling clouds swallowed up my anticipated Long’s Peak vista all week. I was within miles of the haunting man-killer and never got off a snapshot. The unseen dwarfed me.
I feel time and wind winding by, and I almost wish I was a child again, but that’s beside the point. More related is this: I feel God nearby in the silent sentinels of trees and sky and, of course, mountains. Distant, hazy with ozone, green and blue, mist-covered, mysterious.
I want to meet God soon, and then I realize that I will, that 60-some years will be soon. I will live quickly. And then this perplexing amalgamation of wishes and nostalgia, aches and endorphins, faith and hope, will be resolved.
All will be seen, and all seen will be well—everything I wish, everything I touch, everything I become—all shiningly well.
::
The trees and rocks, heavens and mountains, are portentously silent. The sky changes constantly, pines sway and toss—it rained twice today—but nature strikes me as being dormant. They are all waiting.
I eye certain dusty stones, wondering what wild deeds they will accomplish when their king comes back. The clouds are wheeling watchfully. As for me, for now, I will live quickly. …and he was the best fighter because his life was flying by and he could not be bothered to slow down for mere battles…
Some hope for a quick death. I hope for quick life (not a “short” one), after which mountains (or anything else) will not seem so painfully beautiful and brightly strange. I’ll no longer speculate about things which once seemed wondrous or of which I once envisioned—I’ll simply know. When truth surrounds you, the wondrous is underfoot and in hand, and you no longer need to puzzle out the years and ask your name.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
God's Grace Beat-Down
God Can Use Even You Me
The sky played a cruel trick on me this morning. I looked out the window and saw a grayish, cloudy soup that seemed to promise cooler temperatures and maybe rain—the ultimate air-refresher. But when I walked outside, the skies had cleared and a garish sun was hammering the asphalt. The last couple days have conspired against me to prove what a thin-skinned jerk I am—and today the streak would continue.
In the last 48 hours I’ve been hit twice in the head by thick tree branches and once I backed blindly into a solid wooden beam at mid-skull level. I’ve been nailed in the eye with spattered mud and I stubbed my toe on a concrete slab, striding forward at full speed. At dusk yesterday I was smacked in the side of the face with a basketball.
In each case I’ve responded with sentiments of which SCREW THIS! would be a mild expression. Which brings us back to this morning. Three sweltering, 100 degree days tacked monotonously end to end contribute to the feeling I have that God is trying to make a statement:
Look how little it takes to bring you to the end of your rope.
To which I reply bitterly, “Do you have a point?”
God smiles. And now you’re angry about me pointing this out. Do you have any right to be angry?
I shoot right back: “You better believe I do. I’ve been hit in the back of the head, bashed in the face, baked in the heat. You may as well finish me off now...”
At which point I realize my speech sounds eerily familiar. All right, God. All right. I may as well continue my streak of quoting Old Testament characters and drop a David line—“I am worm and not a man.” I can’t do anything right without embarrassingly massive doses of grace. Put me in a hot day, throw consecutive irritants at me, and I start blowing fuses—each one mere centimeters long. Pull out one slat and my self-sufficiency collapses. I’m a freaking loser.
About this time, God smiles again—infuriatingly.
At this moment, you’re just the man I’ve been looking for.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Mark Driscoll: Coming Soon
As promised (to myself), I've been making my way through Mark Driscoll's new book, Confessions of a Reformission Rev. What I've read so far has been thought-provoking, if not mentally explosive. This raises the question: Is there anything better than reading a book that combines an in-your-face voice with lucid theologizing? The obvious answer is to discuss said book with others.
To this end, a Mark Driscoll discussion will be kicking off here in the next several days. Several of my friends who have also read Confessions will be contributing with their own posts and discussion. (If you'd like to contribute posts as well, having read the book, shoot me an email.) If you are interested in-1) Theology
2) Humor
3) Controversy
4) Church-planting
5) Out-of-the-box thinking
6) Trashtalk
-I think you'll have some things to say as this series progresses. For those of you new to Driscoll, this Christianity Today interview may be worth a look. Anyway, discussion and (possibly) debate is headed your way.
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