:: in.a.mirror.dimly ::

Continuing my series of meditations on the Gospel of Mark…

The rich man who kneeled before Jesus provides a stark contrast to the ideal children Jesus used as an example of those who eagerly enter the Kingdom. In fact, this man illustrated how those who refused to become like children could easily miss out on the Kingdom.

He displayed a mix of sincerity in his devotion to Jesus and devotion to his possessions—the things that commanded his ultimate allegiance.

Though the disciples had a hard time understanding Jesus or giving up their dreams of power in his Kingdom, they had at least given up their material wealth to follow. The rich man wanted to be validated by Jesus, to find out that he had done things right. He didn’t come to Jesus like an open child, willing to receive whatever Jesus offered or asked him to do. He had a lifestyle or religious observance that he wanted Jesus to stamp with approval rather than challenge.

In his eyes he had kept the commandments and didn’t see what more should be done. Jesus shocked him by challenging him to sell his possessions, to give to the poor, and to follow him. He preferred to keep his current level of religious devotion rather than accepting the challenge given by Jesus.

For all of their failings, the disciples of Jesus learned that they had not only done the right thing in leaving their possessions behind in order to follow Jesus, but they also learned that that their sacrifices would be rewarded with blessings, persecutions, and eternal life. On the face of it, Jesus was asking the prosperous to give up what they had in order to receive both persecutions and life.

There would be a steep cost that came with a high reward. However, in order to come first they had to sacrifice and take last place.

In this passage we see the degrees of devotion in following Jesus. While children are the ideal, the disciples can see that they have part of the Kingdom correct by leaving their former lives behind for the sake of Jesus. The rich man is an example of another step away from the Kingdom since he had many possessions.

At least those without much to their name could hear what Jesus had to say, even if they sometimes sought a higher position and failed to imitate Jesus or come to him as children. Mistaken though they were at times, the disciples had a much easier time of eventually entering the Kingdom as children because of their devotion to Jesus. They didn’t have the same limitations as the rich man.

There is something to be said for leaving behind all that hinders in order to follow and to enter God’s Kingdom. The disciples took yet another step in that direction.

I’m leading a small group study of my book Coffeehouse Theology, and since I wrote the book two years ago I’m reading through a few chapters before leading the discussion each week. While the ideas are quite familiar, there are times when I’m jarred by meeting myself from two years ago.

There are two things I’ve noticed.

1. I’m a bit rough on other perspectives.

No matter how hard my editor tried to tone things down, I still made some strong statements that failed to capture what I really meant to say. In fact, I ended up sounding a bit angry or at least very frustrated at times in my sweeping, unqualified statements about other perspectives.

For example, in the Bible Study Guide, which I’m using for discussion questions in our group, I made a terrible blunder by saying, rather point blank, that the church ruins Easter for me. Ouch! Did I mean that? Well, not quite.

I meant to say that I and other Christians sometimes miss the forest for the trees when we lose sight of the significance of the Resurrection and spend our time on Easter Sunday preaching at the “unsaved Easter people” who show up at church once or twice a year and when we preach the mechanics of salvation, how each piece of redemption fits together. I’d much rather focus on the bigger message of the coming of God’s Kingdom and the significance of the resurrection itself. I meant to say that I made this mistake, but instead I come off as a smug theology student with an axe to grind.

I’m working on getting rid of my axes, but you never know when they may come up again…

2. I Covered Too Much Nonessential Information

I wrote Coffeehouse Theology wanting to not only explain everything behind my method of theology but also to give all the major thinkers I referenced their due—like a good seminary student. While I deleted the section on Nietchze, I can now see that even my pared down chapters on philosophy, theology, and culture were too much in a book that was supposed to make theology accessible.

I probably should have reworked the material to give a basic overview of where I’m coming from and then focused more on how to do theology with more information in an appendix at the end. I clung to so much nonessential information because I feared leaving gaps in the book’s progression. Unfortunately my measures to fill in gaps created some walls in the process.

In summing up…

It’s easy for a writer to forget his tone and to become lost in the importance of his information—thereby including more than is necessary. While I’ve heard from many readers who thought I hit the right balance of information, I think the average Christian reader, my target audience, will feel a bit overwhelmed by what I included. It’s always humbling to encounter yourself from a point in the past, but I’m also encouraged that I’m learning, growing, and hopefully taking steps that will ensure I don’t repeat those same mistakes again.

A few days ago  I read a blog post by someone who had some questions about the nature of the relief work in Haiti. This person asked whether we really are saving these people for a better life, or are we going to save them and then abandon them to die in some other way. And in light of the odds of the survival of some even with our relief work, should we even bother?

That, at least, is my interpretation of what this blogger had to say.

I’m sure you’re feeling a bit of the tension here. Some may wonder, how could someone say that? I was thinking of entering a comment, but as I read the thread of comments that followed the post, something that I didn’t feel l should add to, I learned something very significant about this blogger.

This person has not only struggled with addiction but also with suicide. There have been occasions on which this person thought it would be much better to die. Death didn’t seem all that haunting or terrible. In fact, death is an escape from the pain of this world.

It would have been easy to write this person off as lacking compassion or worse based on the post’s leading question, but once we answer the question, “Why would you say that?” we understand that this question is rising out of some very deep, embedded thinking from this person’s past.

I shudder at both the nature of such thinking and at the possibility that I could have very well begun to challenge this person without a proper understanding of where such thinking is coming from. I could have written off the experiences and challenges that this blogger faces without properly understanding and addressing them.

So I have two thoughts:

For starters, about the relief work, I think we have a lot to learn from the book When Helping Hurts. Relief work isn’t enough. We need to empower people by coming alongside them and helping them invest in their own development. So our work in Haiti isn’t simply a matter of stopping the bleeding and then abandoning. It should be a sustained approach. That’s my new criteria when searching for a worthy organization for my donations.

Secondly, I don’t want to offer pat answers to one person’s deepest pains, but so far as I can tell from scripture, God desires that we experience abundant life now—even the word “eternal” life in the Gospel of John carries this sense of abundant or overflowing in the original Greek. Jesus preached the coming of the Kingdom today, and so living in the Kingdom today is how we begin to move away from the pain of this world.

I can’t speak to this person’s situation exactly, so I don’t want to generalize, but the Good News of Jesus is that sin and death have been defeated and his Resurrection gives us new life. That means we go forward into our world of uncertainty, natural disasters, violence, and greed asking God to bring his Kingdom’s life to both ourselves and to others.

It’s not easy, and I don’t want to trivialize anyone’s experiences. However, speaking in the most general of terms, God desires that we will start living in the freedom of his Kingdom today. I pray that we can leave behind everything that hinders in order to enter that place of rest rather than any other poor substitute. Even if it’s a long, difficult road to freedom, I pray that we will get there.

While chatting with a fellow blogger about writing the other day, he asked me about my favorite writers and wondered in particular if I was a a fan of Donald Miller. Of course I was. You can’t be a Christian writer and NOT like Donald Miller.

Duh.

Now, here’s the dirty little secret about just about every Christian writer since Miller published his landmark, game-changing book Blue Like Jazz: we compare ourselves to Donald Miller in one way or another when pitching books and talking about fellow writers. “My proposed book is a theological memoir thriller pastiche of Donald Miller, Beth Moore, Snoopy, and The Left Behind Series…”

So I wasn’t surprised when he compared Sarah Cunningham to Miller. That’s just what we do.

I replied, “Yeah, you could say that.”

After reading Sarah Cunningham’s latest book In Search of Eden (note the cover image that our rabbit nibbled on, presumably to get to that dandelion), I wouldn’t say it’s an equal to Blue Like Jazz, but she has managed to write powerfully with her own voice and to share her thoughts in a very authentic and humorous way. In other words, she has found how to tell compelling stories as Sarah Cunningham much like Donald Miller tells authentic stories as Donald Miller. You don’t feel like you’re reading a Miller clone, but you do have someone who knows how to tell a good story, to share self-deprecating scenarios, and to reflect on meeting God in the everyday scenes of life.

Basically, whenever you see a book with Sarah Cunningham’s name on it, you should consider buying it. She is one of the top writers in the Christian fold.

Overall

In Search of Eden is a great memoir that hits at the most basic issue for Christians: seeking God in midst of personal failures and faults. It’s particularly good vacation reading if you ask me, even if I take issue with a few points, as I’ll explain below.

Reviewing Two Books

The first two-thirds of In Search of Eden unfolds as a captivating spiritual memoir. I was hooked by Sarah’s stories of growing up in the church and figuring out what it means to follow Jesus. She has a way of relating typical Christian scenes without jargon and without a sense of déjà vu. As the stories unfold she issues gentle challenges, leads by example, and humbly admits her failings.

The last third of the book didn’t click with me. I’ve been through this over and over in my head, asked friends about what I’m missing, and got sick to my stomach over this part of the review. During the last third of In Search of Eden it felt like I was reading a fairly different book about striving to live a holy and obedient life as Sarah shares her list of flaws and her efforts to overcome them. She rounds off the book with a commitment to follow Christ that is moving and right-on, but falls short of resolving the significant amount of time given to weeding out her flaws that take up the last third of the book.

No matter how I look at it, though Sarah’s writing is top-notch throughout the book, the last third of the book left me feeling deflated. While she said nothing wrong, I feel the book fell short of delivering a solution to our flaws and struggles with sin. There was no mention of the Holy Spirit or the process of sanctification where we receive God’s righteousness. For someone whose life changed upon reading in Romans 3:21 that “ now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known,” I finished the book feeling like a huge part of God’s solution was lost in the ending metaphor of weeding our own gardens.

Cunningham’s Response

I didn’t want to end my review on that note, and I didn’t want to only present my reactions to this book without giving Sarah a chance to respond. My sense was that, regardless of my reaction to her book, she knows fully well about sanctification and had her reasons for writing her book the way she did. She really doesn’t need some seminary student shooting off a snooty e-mail with Bible references! In addition, just because the last third of the book didn’t work for me, isn’t to say that it couldn’t connect with other readers.

After mentioning my above concerns via e-mail, Sarah shared that she’s fully aware of the sanctification issue and plans to tackle that in a future book. Over the course of our correspondence I got the sense that she wanted to say more about her conversion and commitment to become a disciple in this book rather than the process of becoming holy. While I can’t change my reaction to the last third of her book, I can appreciate where she’s coming from and what she’s aiming to do. And the writing really is brilliant.

Thankfully, Sarah plans on writing future books, and whether or not my critique is spot on, I look forward to her future work.

While driving home from Vermont this past Saturday, I listened to Guy Raz of NPR interview Kathryn Lopez of the National Review. They were discussing this conservative manifesto of sorts called The Mount Vernon Statement, and Raz asked her to define what a conservative is. Have a look at what she said and how Raz responded:

Ms. LOPEZ: A conservative is somebody who respects the Constitution. He wants to support policies that advance freedom. A conservative is someone who believes that we don’t need to reinvent the wheel and that the founding fathers knew what they were talking about. They established a republic based on moral principles, and these are things that we dont want to get away from.

RAZ: I guess what’s not clear to me is what specifically does this document say a conservative is? And if a conservative is simply those things youre saying they are, I dont think I’ve ever met anybody who’s not a conservative.

If you work on the subtle implications of what Ms. Lopez said, you could almost say that those who disagree with her do not respect the Constitution, reinvent the wheel, distrust the founding fathers, and don’t follow moral principles. It’s an implication that Ms. Lopez could deny ever making, but the undertones are coming through loud and clear, as evidenced by Raz’s reply.

Interesting though politics may be, this is a theology blog, so I’d like to use this as an example of what we don’t want to do when discussing theology with others. It’s easy to frame ourselves as heroes, defenders of the truth, seekers of unbiased answers, and members of the true faithful.

While it’s understandable to be partial to one’s religious perspective, we lose our ability to have meaningful dialogue and discussion with those from opposing views when we forget that those who disagree with our perspectives can have just as much integrity and the same commitment to finding the truth. By defending a point of view by saying, “I’m committed to asking honest questions” or “I take the Bible seriously,” we imply that our opponents aren’t committed to asking honest questions or taking the Bible seriously.

What we mean to say is that we have weighed roughly the same evidence and come out with a different conclusion. Perhaps certain parties in our debates over theology have some short-comings in their ability to ask good questions or to give the Bible the serious consideration it is due, but we won’t have many discussions if we begin with accusations.

Whether we debate theology or politics, the core difference often isn’t integrity or honesty. There are good people on both sides believing what they think is best. The core difference is our conclusions, not necessarily the process of arriving at them. When we can see our “opponents” as fellow truth seekers who have arrived at different conclusions, there will be room for honest discussion and greater compassion. Perhaps some minds may even be changed in the process.

I’m one week into my evening and Sunday internet fast. At 6 PM I have to get off the internet and do something, anything else. In addition, I’m staying offline all day on Sunday.

I do allow myself a few exceptions: watching one TV program on Hulu with my wife and if absolutely necessary, I can send an important e-mail regarding something for the following morning—provided I do it on my wife’s computer.

Here are the changes I’ve noticed thus far…

I am writing a lot more.

I am allowing myself to journal, free write, and to mess around with fiction on my time off. Without social media, articles, and other online distractions, I’m spending my free time doing things that I really enjoy and find very fulfilling. I still feel quite connected with my friends.

I am much more productive during the day.

Since I know I can’t fritter away and putter in the evenings on my web sites, read articles, or chat on social media, I’m much more focused on my work and with my internet time. I dive into my to-do list with a lot more determination and check in on Twitter, Facebook, and my blog reader much faster and take care of updates and conversations with quite a bit of efficiency.

I got a lot done on Sunday.

With no internet on Sundays I’m not only catching up on our household needs such as baking bread or folding laundry, but I’m also taking time to walk, read, and even write fun little stories. Once I get past that moment of dread, “Oh no! I can’t go online,” I find something else to do and have a great day. 

I enjoy my weekday evenings much more.

Much like Sundays, I have time to do the dishes AND to read, rather than only having time to do one of them.  Julie and I have about the same amount of time to hang out as usual since I usually stop whatever I’m doing when she takes a break from her graduate school work.

I look forward to going online in the morning.

It’s a little weird, but on several occasions I’ve caught myself going to bed with an almost giddy feeling of, “I can’t wait to get online in the morning!!!” I’m not sure how I should feel about this. On one hand, it’s good to know that I’m denying myself something I want, but on the other hand it’s a bit odd to feel this way about… internet. I suppose the thing is that I’m anticipating connecting with friends, family, and colleagues via the internet, so perhaps it isn’t such a bad thing to anticipate.

Continuing my series of meditations on the Gospel of Mark…

The Pharisees showed up once again to discredit Jesus and his ministry by laying a theological trap concerning the sensitive topic of divorce. They presumably wanted his popularity to take a hit should he respond with too many restrictions or with too few. Asking whether a man could divorce his wife, they had the Old Testament law handed down from Moses to back them up.

Jesus cut through their arguments by pointing them to God’s ideal for marriage as laid out in Genesis where a man and woman become one. The Pharisees had more than an interpretation problem, they had a heart problem that completely missed God’s intentions laid out in scripture. Rather than offering a new spin on the law of Moses, Jesus completely upended it by stating that neither men nor women could divorce one another.

This reading of scripture gave women equal rights with men, while also exposing the hard-hearted reading of scripture championed by the Pharisees. They clung to the regulations but missed the goals of God for marriage. They read scripture to find out the rules of life rather than seeking the heart of God and asking God to shape their lives. Scripture isn’t something to be figured out and then obeyed but rather something to be studied, understood, and then unleashed in our lives through the power of the Holy Spirit.

After this tense confrontation, Jesus surely must have welcomed a chance to be with children who weren’t trying to trap him with theological questions. However, his disciples tried to stop the children. Once again the disciples didn’t want others crossing onto their turf and taking away from their time with the master. While they could tolerate malicious religion scholars, they failed to honor the very people to whom the Kingdom of God belonged.

Jesus rebuked them because they not only kept these children away but also because they had failed to understand his previous teaching about welcoming little children. He once again taught them the importance of children by using them as models for the kind of people who own the Kingdom of God. In fact, unless his disciples gave up their power trip and became like little children they were in danger of missing the Kingdom that they longed for so badly.

This powerful statement of ownership made it clear that those like children belonged in the Kingdom of God. In fact, only those who received the Kingdom in such a way could enter it. Children weren’t trying to take over, to gain control, or to profit from the Kingdom, which stands in contrast to the struggles of the disciples at this point in Mark.

By using the scriptures as a collection of regulations to be employed as a theological trap, the Pharisees were unable to accept the teachings of Jesus. The disciples of Jesus had their own difficulties with control and power when relating to others. Whether guarding theology or a perceived position with Jesus, both groups put themselves at odds with Jesus in this passage.

Continuing my series on the Gospel of Mark…

After another powerful miracle that drew crowds at the mid-point of chapter nine, Jesus once again withdrew to teach his disciples about his upcoming betrayal, death, and resurrection. They didn’t understand his death and resurrection yet, but were afraid to ask due to their grief and possibly because Jesus called Peter Satan the last time one of them talked back at Jesus about this topic.

We don’t know how soon the disciples’ debate over who will be greatest followed the discussion about Jesus’ death and resurrection, but regardless, it’s hard to fathom why the disciples were so consumed with their own positions while their teacher bore such a heavy burden. They were consumed with their own advancement while their teacher suffered greatly—they had grown so accustomed to taking from him that they failed to help him.

Since three disciples were separated from the rest at times, it’s not out of the question to imagine them splitting into factions, arguing over a new leader since Jesus had predicted his own death. We learn in chapter ten that such treatment may have gone to the heads of James and John.

Jesus immediately undercut any such plans by challenging his disciples to become more like children than savvy, power-hungry leaders. He could have compared them based on their acts, their beliefs, or even the amount of faith they displayed. Instead, he boiled greatness down to hospitality, service, and humility.

Greatness in the Kingdom is decided by trust, service, and humility, the kind of humility that accepts and values a small child. In fact, Jesus challenged them to receive children because such an act meant they would be receiving Jesus himself. They needed to see such acts as the equivalent of ministering to Jesus.

While it may be one thing to welcome children, the disciples made it clear that they were uneasy with humbly sharing the spotlight of the ministry. Perhaps they could welcome children, but they didn’t want competition from those who drove out miracles in the name of Jesus. For people who were just arguing over who was the greatest, they seemed stuck in their notions of exclusivity and greatness.

Jesus responded by telling them to never hinder anyone who was receptive to the name of Christ or who did good works in his name. The problem wasn’t the person casting out demons in the name of Jesus but rather the disciples’ willingness to keep others away from the way of Jesus. This was not about them.

Jesus would not tolerate such pride or exclusivity, as he warned them that causing an innocent such as a child to fall away from him would carry grave consequences. If their sinful desires or conduct kept another person from embracing Jesus, they would be in deep trouble.

The words of Jesus here are a particularly strong warning to not only cut off sin, but to take tremendous care in interpersonal interactions. The disciples were responsible for humbly drawing others to Christ, not for protecting their own positions. The Pharisees protected their positions to the point that they cut themselves and others off from the Messiah.

After the transfiguration Jesus found that his disciples were unable to drive a demon out of a boy. Though they had exorcised demons before, this one proved more difficult and the father of the demon-possessed boy struggled deeply with doubt.

When the man first told Jesus about the demon-possessed boy he left out many details, but as Jesus spoke with him, he filled in some heart-breaking information about how the demon nearly killed his son. While Jesus took pity on him, the man was so desperate and struggled so extensively with doubt that he pleaded with Jesus to take pity and to help him if possible.

Jesus responded with a mix of rebuke and compassion. The man had given two outs for not healing his son: Jesus was either not able or not willing. Jesus was not satisfied with this man’s doubts. Instead he challenged him to believe. The man honestly confessed his doubts, while expressing his desire to believe.

This plea for help in the midst of doubt is incredibly comforting. Even when he know what he ought to do but found it difficult, his mix of confession and struggle with doubt enabled Jesus to act on his behalf.

Jesus emerges in this passage as both compassionate to heal and frustrated by doubt. Doubt didn’t necessarily stop him since the man truly wanted to believe. Failure to believe at one point does not rule out God acting on our behalf.

While we can’t always definitively say why certain prayers are answered and others are not, Jesus showed a persistence that should encourage us. He could have walked away when the man provided an out, but he remained and pushed this man to believe.

When trying to figure out what I should give up for Lent, I’ve decided to make a list of what I can’t live without and to pick one item from that list. However, this season I ran into an interesting twist.

I began to think of what I’m longing for—what I lack and desire but have not been able to find.

My list of things I can’t live without would include my computer, the internet, social media, coffee, nice pens, nice journals, etc. However, I realized that this Lent I needed to create some boundaries in order to cultivate space where certain things could happen that have not been happening lately.

I think my professional life has some decent boundaries in and of itself, but the problem is that my professional life has crept into my personal time. Since I’m working on writing and speaking full time, it’s very hard to know when to stop—and I rarely stop once evening comes.

My wife always looks at me in shock on the few occasions when I sit on the couch reading a book. That is not good.

I need to stop more. I need to create some boundaries from the internet and my work. I need sacred space.

While I admire those who are giving up social media tools such as Facebook and Twitter for Lent, my larger problem is when I fritter my time away on social media, blogs, and web stuff in the evening when I should relax, pray, read, or let a rabbit climb all over me. I don’t feel like these things invade my professional life too much, but they are a problem at home.

So this Lent I’m creating two boundaries.

The first is a space of roughly 20 minutes each day for worship. This means worship music, prayer, or whatever. Some of this needs to be time specifically set apart for worship without any other distractions, but I’m also planning to focus on playing worship music while working throughout the day.

The other is a 6 PM internet cut off time. After 6 PM I am not allowed online, save for the few occasions when I’ll have to check my e-mail for something important. Even then, I’ll only use my wife’s computer where I don’t have any social media or blog settings saved—and it’s frittering my time away on social media and blogs that I’m far more worried about.

It’s already been wonderful. I fought off the urge last night to go online, even if Lent hadn’t begun, and enjoyed reading and journaling for a few hours. One rabbit hopped onto my lap and furiously licked my jeans and the pillow next to me.

I have a feeling that Lent is going to be wonderful for my soul… and my rabbits.