Computers, Hurley, and Ewoks

Thursday, April 16, 2009

I have not intentionally neglected the blog schedule I laid out. In fact, most of the content for these past two weeks has already been written. Unfortunately, my desktop (on which I wrote said content) is experiencing major issues. In fact, I cannot get it to boot properly. As you can imagine, this has taken the wind out of my sails.

That being said, I wanted to go on record (as a fan of Lost) that I wholeheartedly approve of Hugo's plan to rewrite Empire Strikes Back. While I have my doubts about a heart-to-heart dialog between Luke and Vader, I am willing to risk any alteration of the original that could prevent the need for Ewoks in Return of the Jedi. Not everyone would use a chance to live in 1977 so selflessly. Think of all the sci-fi geeks Hugo could help by sparing us all from Han and Leia's teddy bear picnic. Kudos, Hugo Hurley. We're depending on you. Any creatures that would worship C3-PO are worth the effort of time-travel eradification.

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Baptism of Alta Vann

Monday, April 13, 2009

video

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Happy Birthday, Peyton!

Thursday, April 09, 2009


You are the sweetest little boy I have ever known.

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Easter Week

Monday, April 06, 2009

We had a wonderful evening together last night. We have been progressing through a semi-structured series of discussions on the basic foundations of Christian faith. Last night we spent the whole evening discussing baptism. My children were both in rare (okay, it was admittedly typical) form, so Kara did not get to participate in the discussion as much as she would have liked--but the Lord blessed it. One of our group members said he had never given the subject much thought until that night. He is now beginning to consider making that decision himself. His wife, Alta, had given it some previous thought. Alta had decided several years ago that she wanted to be baptized, but she was waiting until she found a church home for herself. Last night I asked her if she wanted me to baptize her next Sunday on Easter. She was extremely excited about this and she agreed. I look forward to posting pictures of this blessed event next Monday.

Continue to pray that God will work through us and bring people into our lives that need the Lord.

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I Die Everyday

Thursday, April 02, 2009

Paul says, “I die everyday.” I am not saying we know exactly what he means. He did say it just after he mentions the baptism for the dead, after all, and none of us pretend to know what that is about. But he felt the need to reiterate his claim of daily dying by saying, “I mean that, brothers and sisters.” For Paul, the resurrection was the last piece of the puzzle that made all of that dying worth it. Without the resurrection, he says, we Christians are to be pitied above everyone else in the world. Yet, Paul does not rush past the death of Jesus on his way to Easter Sunday. In fact, the death of Jesus is the central act in the story has redefined his life. It is the context that gives the resurrection its true meaning. It represents a posture toward the world that Paul not only imitates himself, but he calls the Corinthians to imitate his imitated posture. When Paul says he dies everyday, he does so as one who has chosen to live the rest of his life in the death of Jesus. Elsewhere, Paul says things like, “I have been crucified with Christ,” and “we carry the death of Jesus around within our bodies.” Paul anticipates a day in which he will be resurrected and death will have no more claim on him, but until then, Paul is living his life as a dead man walking—a man sentenced to die a daily form of death until he finally dies a literal death.

Morose? Perhaps. Appealing? Maybe not. On target? Dead on (I’d apologize for the pun here if it wasn’t so obviously intentional).

Let’s face it. There is a lot of death in what we do as Christians. We die to ourselves in baptism. We remember the Lord’s death as we break his body and drink his blood in the Eucharist. It can be a bit of a stretch for people living in a culture that does everything it can to avoid discussions of death and our own mortality. That is part of why we prefer dwelling on the resurrection of Christ to living in the death of Christ. We prefer the pleasant aspects of our faith and avoid the part that, at best, seems strange to us and, at worst, makes us frighteningly uncomfortable. We prefer to think of Jesus’ death as the necessary step for the important part (the resurrection) to take place. Yet, if we value Paul’s perspective on the relationship of Jesus’ death to that of his resurrection, we must consider the possibility that it is the other way around. Rather than the death of Jesus being the necessary step in making resurrection possible, what if we look at the resurrection as that which makes living as one sentenced to death for the sake of the world meaningful, bearable, and worth pursuing.

This is why Paul can boast of his suffering—for if he can share in Christ’s death, he can share in his resurrection. Yet, resurrection entails more than life after death in Paul’s view. In Galatians, Paul says, “I have been crucified with Christ, yet nevertheless I live, but not I, but Christ, lives in me and the life that I now live I live by faith in the Son of God who loves me and gave himself for me.” In Romans, he speaks of those who are baptized as dying to themselves and being raised again to walk in the newness of life. Paul sees a resurrected life for us in this life as we die to sin and take up life in the Spirit, possessing a renewed mind (or as he calls it in 1 Corinthians and Philippians, the mind of Christ). Yet, that resurrection takes place after (and only after) we die to ourselves.

The tricky part is that this dying isn’t a once for all kind of event. As Paul put it, “I die everyday.” Everyday we have to decide again to die to ourselves in order to be made alive again in Jesus. Each death precedes a resurrection. The question is whether that resurrection is a resurrection of a Christlike self or the resurrection of the old self.

My greatest frustration with my own experience is that I too often experience a resurrection of the old self. I find that I rarely mature as much as I think that I have. All it takes is for the circumstances of my life to change a tad and I start behaving and thinking in ways I thought I outgrew long ago. As such, the self to which I thought I died comes right back to life. This isn’t the Christlike resurrection in which a spiritual transformation takes place, it is more of a resuscitation of someone I only thought/hoped was dead. But no matter what, death to self will give way to one kind of life or the other.

So, I am trying to take hold of dying everyday conceptually. It’s hard enough as a concept. As a reality to be embraced, I must confess, I am more than daunted by the example that Paul sets for us there. And yet, there is hint of hope in Paul’s words too. The fact that the call of Jesus demands we make a choice to die every day means that we need not feel defeated whenever the old self shows its selfish face. It means that such a resuscitation of the old self is a natural one for which we know the well-practiced remedy.

But what about the desire? How to we come to find this approach to the world appealing? And how do we get that appeal to stick once we find it? What will call us back to this calling once the appeal wears off? This is why I think we need to begin thinking not just in terms of spiritual formation, but in terms of Christian cruciformation. We are not seeking to be better meditators simply to experience God in our hearts and minds. We are seeking to be better meditators so that God will transform our hearts and minds into the image of his Son. So too is the case for any other discipline.

Instead of being daunted by our own inability to live up to Paul’s example of dying to himself everyday, we should take up spiritual practices that allow us to submit to a calling that is more challenging than we are ready to accept.

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Slowing

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Few of us need a prophet to tell us that we keep ourselves too busy. We hurry our children off to school. We drive to work during rush hour. We cram fast food down our throats. We use the Internet and GPS devices to help us determine the absolute quickest route from point A to point B. And we even find ourselves opening church meetings with “quick prayers.”

In our culture, fast is good and slow is not fast. We keep sayings to the contrary in our back pocket like, “Good things take time,” and “Don’t forget to stop and smell the roses,” but we also get miffed if we are forced to wait too long for our food in a restaurant or if the car in front of us is taking the time to take in the surrounding scenery. One of the reasons we get miffed is that our need for speed is intricately tied to our inherent selfishness.

When others force us to slow down, our basic sense of injustice is activated. We are flabbergasted by the inconsiderate actions of others. We wonder if they have ever stopped to think about how their actions are costing us time and money. Yet, any time we react to others with anger, we risk losing control of ourselves by allowing other to dictate how we will feel and how we will behave. Such reactivity is dangerous both spiritually and physically. Doctors tells us that reactive, anger-prone persons are more susceptible to heart attacks and other health problems. Reactive, anger-prone persons also suffer spiritually. Some learn to modify their behavior to mask their anger (or at least they think they do), but they do not take steps to let go of that anger or, better yet, to prevent it in the first place.

One benefit of slowing is that, over time, we are taught to live contentedly within the boundaries of what we can control and to accept the aspects of our lives that we will never be able to fully control. Slowing is a close cousin to a discipline I learned from a supervisor at the hospital where I was training to be a chaplain. Every time her situation changed, she asked herself, “What is my duty to this moment?” If a student walked in, she would ask herself that question. If she sat down to do paperwork, she would ask herself that question. If she was sitting down with friends for a meal, she would ask herself that question. The discipline helped her to slow down and keep her head in the moment and out of what she needed to do next or what she felt like she should be doing instead. Whenever we live our lives in a rush, we neglect the moment over which we have the most control: now.

Slowing teaches us some lessons that are hard to come by in our information and entertainment saturated world. How much “down time” do we fill with music, television, video games, or even books? How often do we sit still without filling our time and space with noise that distracts us from seeing God?

Many spiritual disciplines hold in common a promise to make God more visible to those who practice them. Slowing is one such discipline. It is no wonder that we so often miss seeing God in our everyday life when we never slow long enough to notice him. Remember, the objective of practicing spiritual disciplines is not to perfect you in some area of your life. The objective is to make room for God in an area of your life that is currently unavailable to God. Start small. You might be surprised how dramatic an impact slowing can make with even the smallest change. You might be shocked to see how often you missed the needs of others when you were hurrying--and no matter how giving you are as a person, it is difficult to meet needs that you fail to notice.

So slow down. Look for God. Look for the needs of others. And be prepared to see a side of the world you have been missing

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Buds of Hope

Monday, March 30, 2009

The Grove has experienced a fallow season of late. Part of that is due to a fallow season in my own life. Part of it is due to a change in the makeup of our team. But spring is here. And so are we. We survived the winter. Barely. But we did survive. We survived some tough weather and a painful pruning. But we survived. And now we are waiting for those first signs of fresh growth. The growth will come.

Maybe.

I hope it will. But my faith does not depend on it. My life does not depend on it. Both will go on and the Lord will find ways to use me and mold me whether it is here or elsewhere.
But I hope that will be here. I hope that will be with the small handful of people who still populate our grove. I hope that we will find a way to assess who we are and where we are and find a way to do meaningful ministry in a way that is necessary and sustainable.
But I am no longer desperate to accomplish this. If the Lord will bless it with his rain and make it grow, I will tend it. If he calls people from the corners of Waco to be a part of our grove, I will do my best to continually call them back to their God and to his mission in our world. But if he does not, he does not. And I will leave this chapter of my life in peace. It is a peace that has come with the price tag of some intense grief over some shattered idealism and a straining of some special relationships, but a peace that comes on the other side of grief is, if not the most desirable, the most sustainable.

So, at present, I am casting a wide net. I am looking for people who feel called by God to build a church that is more than a place, a church that is more than the sum of all of its ministries, and a church that knows that just because we are chasing something new and exciting does not make us better than (and in many cases will not make us as good as) the churches we seek to be different than. I want it to be possible to step forward into a new and unexplored world of being church without carrying forward an arrogance that we can do everything better. It will undoubtedly be a calling we occasionally neglect, but it is the right and proper anecdote for a poison that too often weakens that which is novel and fresh.

So, for the first time in some months, I am excited about what is about to happen at The Grove. Spring is always an exciting time. New growth is always a beautiful thing. And whether that new growth is meant for a church that is about to blossom or it is just a personal growth that will propel me into whatever is next, I am eager to see what will become of it. As such, I plan to rededicate myself to this blog. Blogging can be cathartic if one has something to share. For a while now, I have not wanted to share what I have had to say with anyone and everyone that might cruise past my blog. But as spring breaks, my thoughts are turning back to things that I am more eager to share.

As I reengage, I intend to do so with a weekly rhythm in terms of content. On Mondays, I will share an update (even if ever-so-brief) about The Grove. On Tuesdays, I intend to share some of my ongoing reflections about how we can use specific spiritual disciplines to form us in ways that lead us into the world as people of mission. On Thursdays, I am going to share some general theological reflections on what I am thinking and experiencing about God. For a while, I want to reflect on the idea of cruciformity and how spiritual disciplines can provoke a process of (to risk coining a word) cruciformation. I have some thoughts on why that is necessary, how that is possible, and what needs to accompany it to prevent it from being a resurrection-less way of life. On Friday, I am going to write about something that interests me. It may be sports. It may be my family. It may be politics. Something. I am not going to post on Saturdays or Sundays. I used to post brief thoughts and boast about sports on my blog, but I find that Facebook has become a better outlet for such things.

I am not entirely certain that I still have an audience after letting the blog go for a while, but if you find this post, I invite you to check back regularly and to enter into a conversation with me about this business of becoming Christ in the world.

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