Prone to Wander

A Cease-Fire?

2007-05-22T07:55:00.000-07:00

As a rule, I don’t post (anymore) on politics. I used to on my Xanga blog, and it caused such a headache “in real life” that I just decided to stick with the other things that tickle my fancy; having opinions on things like theology and culture can be controversial enough in their own right. However, I’m going to break that self-imposed embargo for at least one post.

American politics, for the past twenty years or so, have been largely influenced by the so-called “culture wars”. People on the far (socialist?) left and the extreme (religious?) right have become increasingly polarized over certain complicated, emotionally charged issues, primarily abortion and gay rights. Now, I’m not going to even bring up my own opinions on these matters, because that’s not what this post is about. I simply want to note some significant changes that are directly affecting these “culture wars”, and ponder how these changes may or may not change political life in these United States…

First off, the death of Rev. Falwell (may his soul and the souls of all the departed rest in peace) is fairly significant symbolically, if not practically. He represented the “heart and soul” of conservative evangelical politics for a long time, and was the figurehead of the movement; both for its followers and opponents. His departure signals a major transition.

Second, and most of interest, is the very real possibility that the GOP will field a presidential candidate in 2008 that is not only pro-choice, but largely silent on gay marriage as well. The current frontrunners for the nomination are Rudy Guiliani, who is openly in support of reproductive rights for women and seems to imply at least tolerance for the expansion of civil rights for GLBT persons; and John McCain, who is conspicuously silent on both issues, even as he half-heartedly courts the evangelical vote (Guiliani hasn’t even bothered, and after his recent comments on abortion, probably won’t).

So, the question is, along with the Democrats holding to their traditional positions on these issues, does this shift mean the “culture wars” are over? And if so, what will be the impact on the next election and beyond? Dr. Dobson even seems to acknowledge that the shift is real, as per his expressed uncertainty about voting at all in 2008. Apparently, “family values” conservatives have already conceded (before the primaries, even) that Romney and Brownback are out of this race before it’s officially begun. Now, the potential dark horse candidacy of Newt Gingrich could tip the scales again, but he has always seemed more concerned with economic policy than moral authority.

I do hope that all this, at the very least, signals a cease-fire in the “culture wars” for the next election. With hot-button, polarizing issues like gay marriage and abortion off the table, maybe the candidates can distinguish themselves on other pressing concerns: poverty, affordable housing and healthcare, the environment, how to properly end our involvement in Iraq and rehabilitate our image with the rest of the world, just for starters. Anything that elevates presidential politics above who looks best on TV, and who is able to best mobilize their base, can only be a good thing. Let’s hope that the decline of our cultural warriors does just that.

Lonely Sunday

2007-05-13T15:57:00.000-07:00

I've picked back up with my old blog (http://www.xanga.com/theadamseven) as a lot of my closest friends are also on that network. I do intend to keep posting here, but probably not with any greater frequency than the past few months. If I post something on Xanga that I think would be worthwhile to share here, then that's what I'll do. That's what I'm doing now.

My wife and son are currently on vacation without me (it's okay, but I miss them), so that's what prompted the following:

Today marked the first time I've attended a worship service completely by myself in a long time, maybe even ever. It's also the first (and probably only, since it's not a particularly common practice in Episco-land) time that I've gone into the chapel after receiving communion and been anointed with oil and prayed over for "healing of mind, body, and spirit." Coincidence? I think not.

I'm doing okay by myself (i. e. I'm keeping fed, dressed, and reasonably busy), but I miss my family deeply. In a strange way, this is almost comforting, but the next two days will still be very long and lonely.

Beyond that, the next two-and-a-half weeks will be crazy busy with moving, and I hope we have time to connect with everyone we need to before we're gone. I know that odds are we'll miss at least someone, and that makes me sad. However, after we've settled, we'll have plenty of time to re-connect with our Chicagoland friends, and that makes me smile broadly.

My dad is coming over soon, and that will be very good. We'll be seeing him a lot during the moving, but there won't be time then just to be together and say things that might be very important to say. That's what tonight is for, and it's important. It's also a blessing. I like those.

Resurrection

2007-04-11T09:27:00.000-07:00

Lent is over, and a new day dawns. This is true for me, my family, and the church. There is new life as spring begins as well, although the weather isn't very supportive yet. Pain and uncertainty remain, but they are drowned out by true joy and hope.

My son is only nine months old, and he's already pulling himself to his feet holding on to my hands. Then he steps up, by himself, on the footrests of my chair, and we share a hug.

We are moving again soon, and for once, there is no (or at least, very little) anxiety, because there will be family and friends close at hand.

If you know me well, and are still unsure as to why we go to the church we do now, read this and maybe it will help. Paige, the writer, was raised in a non-instrumental Church of Christ, so her journey is a bit similar to ours. She does call God "Her" at one point, but if that's an issue for you, please try to look past it. Her post is all about the Eucharist, but that is the main reason for our switch, and I couldn't have explained Holy Communion's significance in my life any better.

Anyway, I'll try to keep this updated throughout the move.

We appreciate all your prayers, love, and support.

Lenten Observations, or, A Call to Possibility

2007-03-25T06:25:00.000-07:00

I’d like to say my long silence is because I’m fasting from blogging during Lent, but that’s not true. In fact, my Lenten observance is fairly non-existent this year, at least externally. Despite that, I do feel like God is at work in my life, exposing weaknesses, confirming strengths, and gently nudging me more and more into the life he desires for me. I’m not there yet, but I feel the motion of spiritual journeying again, and for that I am grateful.

It is past time to take some significant steps, together with my family. God has a future that is expansive and full of possibility, and he’s holding the door open for us, beckoning for us to live into that future. For several reasons, that isn’t possible if we stay put. I’ve been paralyzed by the continuing controversies within and between the Episcopal Church and worldwide Anglicanism. I’ve tried to adapt to, or at least compromise with, the prevailing view in this diocese, trying to understand the sense of persecution and abandonment of “orthodoxy” by the national church that many here feel. I can’t, and Sarah can’t. There’s no reason for that realization to interfere with the personal relationships we’re trying to cultivate here, but there’s also no reason to put off God’s invitation to possibility.

If I’m being too vague, it must be because I’m becoming truly Episcopalian. In all honesty, though, it’s time to follow the call to vocation faithfully. Faithful to Christ, of course, but that involves being faithful to the person I’m becoming and to the people my wife and son are becoming. I’ll be 26 in just a few days, and the timing is right. A lot of my friends and acquaintances from bible college are already in professional ministry, and that’s great. But I think I always knew that I’d get off to a later start, and considering the big change in denominational affiliation, that’s definitely a good thing. It means a longer discernment and educational process, but again, especially in my case, that’s a good thing.

So, in the midst of an otherwise non-practicing Lent, decisions are being made, with the support of my loving partner, and, I pray, the guidance of the Holy Spirit. If anyone is even still checking this, please pray for us. I won’t be lulled into thinking that the going will be easy, but I know it is possible. And after years of searching for one path, the right path, to take, I now know that all God asks of me is to follow his call to possibility.

Seven Things

2007-02-09T11:10:00.000-08:00

1. I'll be working soon. There are two very real opportunities, and I'll let you all know the details soon. Maybe even before next month...

2. Episcopanglicanism will be splitting into two distinct expressions soon, I'm afraid, and we'll probably have to choose which "branch" we're sticking with by the end of the year. I'll explain the anguish that decision will cause in a future post.

3. Caleb is getting bigger and cuter every day. You should visit my My Space, and see some pictures of the family, if you haven't already.

4. The Bears lost the Super Bowl because of Rex Grossman, it's really as simple as that. My beloved Cubbies will break my heart again this year, despite all the new additions, because of Rex Grossman, it's really as simple as that.

5. You really need to see this.

6. Rock and roll ain't noise pollution. I wanna rock. Less talk, more rock. Do you remember rock 'n' roll radio? God gave rock and roll to you. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

7. And now, Seven Things:

a. Name a book that you want to share so much that you keep giving away copies.

Franny and Zooey by J. D. Salinger. This is one of the Glass Family stories, which indirectly inspired The Royal Tennenbaums, one of the best movies released in recent years. It's also the greatest theological work of the twentieth century. No, seriously. Okay, The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis is close, too, but it's not quite as brilliant. I lent this book out over a year ago, and haven't received it back yet. Ahem.

b. Name a piece of music that changed the way you listen to music.

I'd like to say something classy like Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, or even be a hep cat and say John Coltrane's A Love Supreme. But, in all honesty, it's a rare demo recording of the Beach Boys' "Surf's Up", with a solo Brian Wilson playing piano and singing, without the smashing harmonies one expects on a Beach Boys record. The result is a poignant, mournful anthem for fading youth that Elvis Costello describes as discovering one of Mozart's private performances of an unfinished concerto. Okay, that was still pretty pretentious, wasn't it? Good, I still have it.

c. Name a film you can watch again and again without fatigue.

Terry Gilliam's BRAZIL. No, wait, Sergio Leone's ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST. Actually, I'm certain it's David O. Russell's I (heart) HUCKABEES. I like movies. But really, it's Brad Bird's THE IRON GIANT. For real.

d. Name a performer for whom you suspend all disbelief.

Maria Falconetti's performance as Joan in Carl Th. Dreyer's silent masterpiece THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC. It's her only film role, and it's devastating.

e. Name a work of art you’d like to live with.

I've only been to one world-class art museum (The Art Institute of Chicago), but each time I've been, I always visit the same piece and sit transfixed. Jackson Pollack's Greyed Rainbow. Yeah, it's messy, and I don't pretend to "get" modern art like this, but there's a melancholy intensity with this piece that I can't shake. Haunting...

f. Name a work of fiction which has penetrated your real life.

The Bible. I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I don't want to just say Franny and Zooey again, so I'll go with Watchmen by Alan Moore. It's a superhero murder mystery that de-constructed the genre so completely that superhero comics never really recovered. Beyond that, it revolutionized the very art of story-telling in a graphic medium, and is one of the few comic books to be respected by the literary mainstream. So, what does that have to with MY real life? I don't know, you read the prose and dialogue in this sucker, and tell me it doesn't shade your perception of the ghastly beauty of life just a little.

g. Name a punch line that always makes you laugh.

"...and then I found my pants."

Alright, this is a meme, so I'm supposed to tag two other people to participate. Ryan on the East Coast at Everyday Faith, and Richard on the West Coast at Caught By the Light. Have fun, guys.

What is Orthodoxy?

2007-01-12T20:05:00.000-08:00

Most of this post is a comment I left over at Fr. Jake's a few days back. It seems like a lot of Christians, but especially certain Anglicans these days, use the term "orthodoxy" to denote a vision of our faith that's grounded in absolutes, defined by strict boundaries. But, in my own study of and thinking about the "undivided" church of the first four centuries A. D. (it wasn't half as unified in doctrinal matters as we'd like to think, but it's still a worthwhile starting point), I'm not sure that the church fathers really viewed orthodoxy, which means "right teaching", in such uncertain terms:

I'm really drawn to the idea of orthodoxy being a lot more accommodating than folks on both sides of this "debate" (the current brouhaha that's ostensibly about sexuality, but really is a fight over biblical interpretation) make it out to be. I'm struck by the thought that most, if not all, of the "heretics" in the early church were trying to narrow down Christian doctrine, to find the "right belief" that all disciples must hold to. For instance, one early controversy involved the gospel accounts. A priest named Marcion, at least I think it was Marcion, was concerned that the church had authorized FOUR separate, sometimes competing, accounts of our Lord. He attempted to teach that only ONE (maybe John?) was correct, and the other three were not inspired. However, the unified voice of the church held to the importance of having several different takes on Christianity's central story. This is orthodoxy.

Also, the christological controversies that came later are another example. By affirming that Jesus is BOTH fully God and fully man, the councils were repudiating the various, narrower views that were beginning to be taught (Christ only appeared to be human, the eternal Logos departed from the human Jesus on the cross, etc.). I know this is a huge oversimplification of the various heresies and the ecumenical responses, but I think my point stands nonetheless.

Anyway, I think those who claim orthodoxy as a warrant for exclusionary thought and action need to take a fresh look at the orthodoxy of the undivided church, as do those who are tempted to abandon the concept altogether in response to these abuses. The church is big enough for competing theologies, and it always has been. This is no liberal innovation or conservative compromise, but the heart of orthodoxy, not to mention the gospel, itself.

Further Thoughts on Incarnation

2006-12-28T21:25:00.000-08:00

Looking back at my Advent reflections, I notice that I didn’t spend as much time as I’d intended “fleshing out” (pun intended?) the ramifications of Christian practice centered on the Incarnation, and beyond that and more importantly, how incarnational thinking plays out in the practical concerns of daily life. I’ll attempt to do so now.

Not only is the Incarnation of Jesus Christ the vehicle through which the promise of salvation and the hope of resurrection become possible; it also represents God’s intention to redeem all aspects of life, the physical as well as the metaphysical. And this is not some future happening, delayed indefinitely until the new heaven and the new earth arrive. The Incarnation is now, it is the proclamation to the shepherds, “Peace to those on whom God’s favor rests.” Christ tells us that God’s favor rests with all. This is the elusive good news that the church has been given.

So, what are the implications? If, through incarnation, God has reclaimed the physical reality of nature, then Paul’s statement that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit carries new weight. It’s not just about taking care of our bodies; it’s a powerful reminder that divinity has worn humanity, has made its dwelling in our very midst as one of us, and will do so again. Our bodies are temples because can again feel the presence of God through the Holy Spirit in a way previously only available to our earliest ancestors. The Nativity made this possible.

I was reminded, while spending Christmas Day with my family, the simple power of being in the presence of parents, of those directly responsible for my existence. I have a good relationship with my parents, but I think I understand the anguish of those who don’t. And my fellowship with my parents is magnified by our common hope in Christ. We often don’t see eye to eye on specific matters of living out that hope, but we don’t deny that connection. It’s part of who we are as a family, my brother included. They’re the reason I don’t become bitter at the holidays, and their guidance is responsible for my commitment to live as a disciple of Jesus, and to encourage my own family now to do the same. And, whether they see this as a good thing or not (although I think they probably do), they’re also the main reason I’ve remained as open-minded to ideas old and new about what it means to be part of the world’s most dysfunctional family, the church. Whenever I can, I thank them for shaping me as best they can into a mature follower of Christ. I hope that this post serves that purpose as well.

Happy fourth day of Christmas, almost fifth. Enjoy your calling birds and golden rings…

Advent and Christmas: Repentance and Joy

2006-12-21T10:34:00.000-08:00

Well, I didn't get these out weekly, as I'd hoped, but at least I'm semi-regular on here again. What follows is a brief meditation from the Episcopal Diocese of Washington's online Advent Calendar, and then my own reflections on the rest of Advent and Christmas.

"When I say my prayers now, I no longer ask for God to be present. I take that presence for granted. Jesus promised us that his Advocate would remain with us, and I believe his words. The more I count on that presence, the more that I feel it anchoring my entire life.

Perhaps the greatest theologians of our day are quantum physicists. As they uncover new dimensions in time and space, the mysteries of the Divine seem more possible, more real. It may be that God indeed exists in a dimension that is far beyond our understanding. It may be that God is with us on levels far beyond our understanding.
But we still want to see Jesus. We want to touch him, to see him smile. And that is why we wait. We wait to experience Christ with us physically, as Jesus once was. I find that the more I acknowledge my hunger for Christ's bodily presence with me, the more I realize my love for God.

The reunion between Christ and his Church will be one to behold. I myself can't wait to see it."

- From Between Two Worlds: Daily Readings for Advent by Kate Moorehead (Cowley Publications, 2003).

The scripture readings for Advent continue in their intensity, and I’m finally buying into the whole idea of Advent as a penitential season, second in solemnity only to Lent. Isaiah’s prophecies of Emmanuel and Bethlehem and those walking in darkness seeing a great light are present, and give hope as intended, but even these are smack dab in the middle of passages of searing judgment and apocalyptic fury. Last Sunday, Advent III, was the Sunday of Joy, or Rose Sunday, and it provided some relief with readings from Philippians and my favorite prophetic reading, Zephaniah 3:12-20. But then there was the Gospel reading, and John the Baptist asking the “brood of vipers” who had warned them to flee the coming judgment. The Baptist remains central throughout Advent, ranting and raving and preaching a defiant message of repentance.

Why is repentance so vital to Christmas? At Easter, and during Lent, it seems to make more sense to place such an emphasis on penitence. But why Christmas? Isn’t Christmas the feast of the Nativity, when we commemorate incarnation, God coming among us? Isn’t it when we sing warm, joyful songs to “little Lord Baby Jesus, learnin’ your shapes and colors,” as Ricky Bobby would put it? Isn’t it a time to go home, to be with family, to celebrate God’s continued presence in our midst? Of course it is, and for all this penitence is absolutely vital. It’s not a time to beat ourselves up over sin and shortcoming, but it is a time to acknowledge our failure to love and be loved perfectly. That’s what John the Baptist railed against, by the way. He knew that for God’s Kingdom to break through, the human kingdom of Israel, and by extension, the occupying Roman Empire, had to learn to live lives of love in keeping with repentance. John’s message was ultimately rejected, of course, but one came after him. This One put an authentic love-filled life on display for all to see. He was rejected by his people as well, but being God, he accomplished his purpose anyway and promised to return.

Now, especially during Advent, those of us who wear his name await his coming, both the first and final coming, living already in his “now and not yet” kingdom. Isaiah tells us, “For all this, his anger has not turned away; his hand is stretched out still.” Someday, all will understand that God’s anger doesn’t burn against individual hedonists or heretics, but against entire communities and nations who have no love for their fellow image-bearers. The difficult message of Advent is that true joy and peace can be ours, but that God remains angry and heartbroken over his children’s wars with and neglect of each other. He has come among us, he has seen our divisive brokenness firsthand, and in love he prolongs his delay in returning, giving us every chance to repent and live in newness of life.

Please enjoy your Christmas; I know I will. God has gifted me with a wonderful family and amazing friends, and I love you all.

May the blessings of God; Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be with us now as we celebrate the new life possible through Christ and await his coming, now and always.

Amen.

For Now...

2006-12-15T16:03:00.000-08:00

My heart is really unsastisfied with church stuff right now. It may stem from the life situation in general; but I'm as happy with God as I've ever been. I just wish his bride would straighten up and fly right.

Anyway, this is really a placeholder for my next Advent meditation, which I hope to have up this weekend. Until then, an Advent hymn:

Of the Parent's heart begotten
when the worlds were yet to be,
One there was with no beginning,
one who is eternally
Source and Ending of all things that have been,
and all things that are to be,
forever and forever.

By this Word was all created,
by this word were all things done:
Land and air and deepest ocean,
harmony of three in one,
And all growing in the luminance
shed forth from the moon and sun,
forever and forever.

Blessed dawning of salvation
as the Word is breathed in grace
Into earthly flesh receiving
God incarnate taking place;
Now the light of God revealed
through the Child of human face,
forever and forever.

Now behold the One whom prophets
have foretold for ages long
On the faithful page of scripture,
seers and sages in their song;
Now the Promised One shines forth!
Let all earth its praise prolong
forever and forever.

- Divinum mysterium, 11th Cent.

Advent: The Incarnation as Eschatology?

2006-12-04T11:50:00.000-08:00

So, I guess it's time for my monthly post. I hope this pattern doesn't continue, but such are the days for me now. I am, at the least, going to try for weekly thoughts during this season of Advent.

As I did with Lent last year (church calendar-wise, earlier in 2006), I'm trying to really take Advent seriously as a devotional exercise this year. The season (and the new church year) officially began yesterday, anda good portion of the readings for this week are primarily prophetic (Isaiah and Jeremiah) of the coming of Christ, or at least of Israel's need for Messiah. That's to be expected, of course, but there's also a heavy emphasis (particularly in the New Testament readings) on Christ's second coming. In fact, the gospel readings come from Luke 20, focusing on Jesus' final teachings in the Temple before Passion Week. Here, Jesus begins to address issues of his authority, and begins to prepare for the task at hand.

Why these passages from towards the end of his ministry, here at the beginning of the season when we begin to anticipate Christ's birth? I'm starting to reflect on this, so these will be sketchy observations at best, but I am struck by the juxtaposition of incarnation (the idea central to Christian thought of God becoming human) and eschatology (the doctrine of last things, specifically the idea that Christ will return to set things right at some unknown point in time). I'm not sure why I haven't considered the obvious link between these concepts until now, but it seems the best way to introduce and frame this season of reflection. In all the haste to decipher the more esoteric, apocalyptic visions of the end contained in scripture, it appears that many miss the point. I certainly have, even in my zeal to expose the "bad theology" of things like the Rapture Theory and the Left Behind books. I still believe that such thinking is dangerous at best, but I waste so much energy declaring the things I'm NOT as a Christ-follower that I end up being just as dogmatic as those I seek to correct.

By placing eschatological thinking front and center during advent, I am confronted with the thought that the "end times" actually began at the Nativity, with the Incarnation. God's kingdom has already come among us, but is also coming again. It's the paradoxical idea of "now and not yet", which is a central concept to an eschatology less concerned with geo-political developments and the rise of the anti-Christ, and more concerned with the immediate business of acting as agents of redemption in the world we live in NOW.

The Incarnation tends to get short shrift in evangelical circles, even within the fairly moderate context in which I was educated. The events of the Passion and the Resurrection are viewed as the events which changed human history, but the Incarnation is what made such grace possible, isn't it? Without even getting into thorny matters like Immaculate Conception and Virgin Birth, Anglicanism has provided me with a fresh outlook on Advent. It's not just waiting around for Christmas and lighting a few more candles than usual, like it was when I was younger. It's a time to consider exactly what God coming among us means. I used to place the beginning of the end at Pentecost, with the coming of the church. But despite whatever grace is given to her, the church is still a human institution. God intervened, and changed history, beginning at the manger and culminating with the empty tomb. It does not fall to us to worry about the last things, only to accept that we've been living with them for at least a couple millennia now. So, may Advent be a time to reflect on these and many other things, but may it also be a time to act as if such things matter, a season of love.

Next week focuses on John the Baptist and the coming of the kingdom, so that should build nicely on what this week has started. I'll bet that I'm led to think of the kingdom of God a lot differently than the Rick Warrens and James Dobsons of the world. We'll see...

Welcome, Bishop Katharine

2006-11-04T10:29:00.000-08:00

This morning, at the Washington National Cathedral, The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori was invested as the 26th Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church. We watched the service online. The attendant pomp was actually fairly subdued, and from the eclectic mix of worship music and performers to the presence of Native American shamans, Muslim clerics, and Buddhist monks, it was basically everything that gives super-conservative Christians a headache.

The thing is, though, that the whole affair represented (to me, at least) everything the gospel is about. There were no statements about all religions being equal, the clear references to Jesus Christ and his death, resurrection, and return remained intact in the liturgy, and the sermon, based on the beginning of Jesus' public ministry in Luke 4:14-21, was a clear, passionate presentation of the gospel message. Everyone won't agree on that, I'm sure, but that's what I felt as I watched.

The service bulletin was available for download as well, and it ends with this amazing quote from a Roman Catholic bishop. I know that not all churches even have "bishops", but feel free to insert "elder" or "pastor", since they all come from the same root words anyway:

"The bishop belongs to all. Let no one be scandalized if I frequent those who are considered unworthy or sinful. Who is not a sinner? Let no one be alarmed if I am seen with compromised and dangerous people, on the left or the right. Let no one bind me to a group. My door, my heart, must be open to everyone, absolutely everyone."

Let us pray for the church, and all those who minister to her.

Amen.

Seeing God

2006-10-21T08:37:00.000-07:00

I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to find God. And I guess I have, to a certain extent, because I’ve decided to be a Christian. But my search for God didn’t end with that decision made over eight years ago now. If anything, that’s when it really began. God seems to be really hard to find, it turns out. Oh sure, I get glimpses here and there, some farther apart than others. That’s all, but it’s also enough. It’s all I really need, those glimpses.

I forget that a lot, though. If I had my way, following God would be easier. There are probably a lot of people who feel that way. There are many ways that people, including me, try to make God more approachable, more real, as if he needs our approval to even exist, or at least have any significance in our lives.

We look up. We sing songs and write books and spend money to open our “spiritual” eyes. I’m not even sure what spiritual eyes are, I guess they’re located in or around our hearts, which is actually really weird. People from some other religions would say there’s only one spiritual eye, and it’s right smack dab in the middle of your forehead, or in the palm of your hand. I think both of those are way cooler than having eyes in our hearts, but that’s neither here nor there. Mystics and prophets and dreamers have been seeing God this way since pretty much forever, and it kind of works for me too, at least better than most things. But it doesn’t work way more often than it does, and I’m left wandering in the wilderness, a nomad seeking the next life-giving oasis.

Sometimes, we look outside. I mean, if God created everything in the natural world, then he must be out among his creation, right? And he definitely is. The most famous king of Israel was so convinced of this that he wrote a song that says so. Since then, a lot of other people who really love God have found him outside. People like St. Francis and Annie Dillard, just to name a couple and look smarter than I really am. There’s no denying the simple power of being alone outside, away from civilization. Sometimes God does speak through the breeze rustling leaves, and it’s worthwhile to listen for him there.

It’s very tempting for a lot of people, especially me, to look for God in words. We want to find him in books, in letters, even in the rules we’re supposed to follow. God gave us words, but it seems to me that he is in no way bound by words. Words point to God, but we have to be careful not to trap him in words. That’s hard, I think. All we really have to help us understand God at all are words, and so it’s very easy for me to make those words that really help me “see” God into, well, the final word.

The thing is, I think God actually has given us the best possible way to see him, and we usually end up ignoring this, because frankly, it’s everywhere. It’s people. Stinky, messed-up, broken-down, mean, loving, beautiful people are the best self-portrait God has for us. That doesn’t mean we can’t look up, or look outside, or even look in words. It just means that if we focus on any of those things without looking around at the people who surround us, then we’re getting part of the picture at best.

And I know how people can be. We’re constantly hurting each other and letting each other down. I honestly don’t know why that is. As a Christian, I have some ideas about why people suck so much, but more importantly, I believe that all people are capable of astonishing goodness, and worthy of unhesitant love and acceptance. I believe this because God was a human person once.

Stayin' Alive

2006-10-14T08:06:00.000-07:00

Well, barely. Big changes are in the cards hopefully, but for now...

Temp jobs!

Caleb is teething, so he makes a lot of unhappy sounds these days. I do too sometimes, but God is good. His patience with me is pretty overwhelming.

I love collects (daily prayers). Here's today's, and it's remarkably applicable:

Almighty and everlasting God, you are always more ready to hear than we to pray, and to give more than we either desire or deserve: Pour upon us the abundance of your mercy, forgiving us those things of which our conscience is afraid, and giving us those good things for which we are not worthy to ask, except through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ our Savior; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Listen (Part 2)

2006-09-29T16:59:00.000-07:00

I'd like God to leave me alone, but he doesn't. He's placed inside me a wanderer's heart, a heart that simply can't and won't find rest until it's resting in God, to paraphrase St. Augustine. Most of the time, though, I'm too worried about what exactly I'm doing with my life or how in the world I can provide for my family, I'm too preoccupied with chasing self-fulfillment, to just rest in God. To just be at peace with the world and my current place in it.

I wander too much; through the past, the future, even other worlds. That's what wanderers do, isn't it? And I'm certainly not ashamed of my wanderings (for the most part, at least), because I feel strongly that it's a big part of my interaction with God and his world. But it does create tension; within myself, with my loved ones, it even comes between me and Christ, when it becomes an excuse for absent-mindedness.

My life story is actually pretty well summed up by my wandering, but that'll have to wait. Right now I'm going to go read to my son...

Listen (Part 1)

2006-09-20T20:02:00.000-07:00

It's hard to talk about this in mixed company, by which, I mean there are people who read this who know me very well and others who barely know me at all. But there's something all of you need to know. It's nothing terribly earth-shattering, and I hope it's at least relatable to some, or maybe most, of you.

I have a great deal of respect for those whose belief is not completely centered in Christ. More than that, I actually envy them a great deal. Not because it takes so much more faith to not believe than to believe, or any similar evangelical platitude. And definitely not because I secretly wish to live a life of rampant, unrepentent sin without consequence. I just want to be left alone, for God's sake. But apparently, exactly for God's sake, that's not an option for me.

Sometimes I desperately want the ridiculously obvious Meaning I find my world enveloped in to have another source. Sometimes I want to love my life, my family, my friends on their own merits. I want an absolute morality based in something other than the Absolute, to be perfectly candid. I'm so concerned for people to have a healthy, reasonable view of scripture; so I want to be able to deny its own significance in my life. I don't want Life and Light and Truth and Beauty to be God; I want them to be arbitrary, glorious anomalies in an otherwise absurd and meaningless universe. Honest, that's what I actually want sometimes.

I want God to leave me alone.

But, that doesn't separate me much from everybody else, does it?

At Random...

2006-09-15T17:17:00.000-07:00

1. Please go read my dear friend Doug's latest post.

It's called "Calvin and Associates", and it is heartbreaking. Doug lives an incredible ministry to men on the streets of Chicago, and I envy his opportunity, though I hardly envy the pain such a life can bring unexpectedly. I love you, Doug...

2. The Diocese of Quincy meets in Special Synod tomorrow.

I expect we'll seek "alternative primatial oversight", whatever that means. It's so frustrating that there seem to be so few chances for reconciliation now. I'd really like to be part of this diocese as long as we're here, but I still am having a hard time feeling out how we'll be received if our opinion on the whole matter becomes clear. Please pray for the Church, no matter if you're Episcopalian or not, and especially whether or not you see eye-to-eye with me.

3. Heinz, the Baron Kraus-Von Espy is the greatest name for a movie character ever. Too bad it's not a particularly good movie...

Housekeeping: An Explanation and a One-Time Response

2006-09-09T11:23:00.000-07:00

I've deliberately taken my time getting to this post, because I want to be sure I express myself with the utmost clarity and humility. First, I want to set some parameters regarding comments on my blog here...

1. I will never edit or delete comments unless they attack me or my family directly. I don't at all expect that, but I just want to make that clear from the beginning. Dissenting or negative responses to my opinions as expressed here are always welcome, as long as they stay on that level. Again, I expect nothing but such behavior from those I expect will be commenting here most often.

2. I'd really rather that no one post anonymously. You don't have to be a Blogger to comment, but at least leave some kind of handle. Real names, obviously, are unnecessary, but give me some kind of name to respond to, if I so choose.

3. More often than not, I won't enter into any in-depth discussions via the comment thread. I just don't have the time or energy to do so, and even if I did, I find that online debate tends to bring out the worst in people (especially myself). If I feel some kind of response is in order, I'll do that with a post, like I'm about to do here. Finally, if you and I know each other "in the real world", let's talk there. Please.

Okay, that's done. Now, to the matter at hand.

Apparently, my view of monogamous homosexuality is disconcerting to some people. I expected that, and recently (maybe even as recently as a year ago), I'd completely understand and probably even agree. It's just not a position I can cling to anymore. There isn't some drawn out logical proof to support my change in heart, because it's just that, a change in heart. I guess it can be dangerous to follow your heart, but I definitely feel that my head's along for the ride on this one. If that diminishes my "Christian" witness somehow, then so be it. I've always found the call to follow Christ to be more about selfless love than "tough love", anyway. Jesus said, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice," and I'm more curious about what that means than I am about just about anything else in scripture.

So, if my view offends you, I'm sorry about that. It is just what I think, as I said a couple posts back. Anyway, I hope this post doesn't sound too defensive or apologetic or anything. I certainly don't feel there's anything worth fighting about in my little opinion here, and I will move on to other things and find more ways to convince people my head's screwed on backwards, so that should be fun. Stick around (even you, Anonymous)...

Seal the Deal

2006-09-05T19:39:00.000-07:00

Well, here's my official blog seal. Like it?

In Brief: Where I Sit...

2006-09-02T12:53:00.000-07:00

So, that brilliantly reasoned, sparklingly articulate, manifesto on the future of The Episcopal Church that I've been trying to get up here just isn't going to happen. The issues are too large and complex to be settled in any way by even a lengthy treatise. So, I'll just briefly sketch my position in this war over human sexuality.

I find the extremes on both sides of the debate over including LGBT people in the clerical orders of the church to be unpleasant, narrow-minded, and at the worst, willfully ignorant of Jesus' mission. It sounds harsh, but I'm absolutely bewildered at the way both the arch-conservatives and the more liberal element throw theological justification back and forth at each other, but seem to be hardly concerned about unity in Christ. The genius of Anglicanism (and in the past, TEC) is the focus on common prayer and life together in Christ (recently strengthened by the reclamation of the centrality of Eucharist in the liturgical renewal of the 60's and 70's) as the grounds for Christian unity, rather than agreement on the finer points of doctrine (I have trouble classifying the current debates over sexuality as doctrinal matters anyway, but that's beyond the point). The liberals who want to let the conservatives go, even if it means completely estranging TEC from the worldwide Communion, are just as blind to this as any conservative leader.

Do I believe LGBT people should be allowed complete access to the full life of the church, including ordination and positions of spiritual leadership? Absolutely. But I also firmly believe that any person who's not comfortable with that should remain in full fellowship as well. Such is the difficult position that the broad center of TEC (and I'd say Christianity in general) has to take. We only take such a difficult position, though, because we find it consistent with the example of Jesus. I understand the problem. Those on the right believe that homosexuality is a sin, and maybe even an especially bad one, while those on the far left have trouble classifying anything as sin. That's a gross overstatement of a caricature for both parties, but it still casts some light on the tension. I find myself of the opinion (and it's one I take in prayerful humility, I hope) that there's a lot of sin in the world, but it's hard for me to say that someone who is faithful to their partner, whatever gender, is an unrepentant sinner. At the same time, infidelity and promiscuity are always sinful, again regardless of the gender(s) of those involved. That's what I think, at least...

Well, that's enough for now. There's probably no way to stop my beloved church from splitting, even though I see it as a highly unnecessary outcome. My concern is where my family's spiritual home will be after the seemingly inevitable schism. I pray that the Spirit intervenes, but he's probably doing something much more important than attending to Christ's selfish, spoiled bride one more time.

The Hope of the World?

2006-08-23T17:42:00.000-07:00

I'd been thinking it was time to release my brilliantly thought-out, definitive statement on the controversies dividing The Episcopal Church, a piece of such stunning clarity and theological perspicuity that all sides in these arguments would immediately realize the error of their party-line toeing ways and gather together around Christ as the true center of the church and let bygones be bygones. I, of course, realize that such a result is beyond unlikely, so I will save that conversation just a bit longer.

However, I did want to bring up something that at least has a little bit to do with our decision to stick things out with TEC, even here in the Diocese of Quincy (Special Synod to respond to General Convention in three weeks! Hooray!), come what may.

Bill Hybels, pastor of Willow Creek Community Church up in the 'burbs, the father of the contemporary megachurch movement (whose place of prominence has been usurped by book-seller Rick Warren), has said something to the effect that the local church is the hope of the world. I used to think there was a lot of truth in that statement, but I'm more and more convinced that there may not be much to such thinking after all.

See, I think the church in general, or the Church, if you will, has a worth infinitely more than the sum of its parts (individual parishes or local congregations). At its best, the Church, no matter the denominational flavor, has deeply understood and accepted this idea. Now, such thinking can definitely be taken to unhealthy extremes, and this has definitely happened at various times in the history of Christianity. But to me, the opposite extreme, complete isolation and "Lone Ranger" ecclesiology, is at least equally hazardous. When a church forgets and/or willfully breaks its ties with other churches in its tradition, it loses its distinctiveness.

Now, I'm not denying the crucial role individual congregations play in engaging the immediate culture of their specific physical location, but to say that the hope of the world lies in these local churches seems to diminish the importance of the mystical union between Christ and his Bride, the church universal. I would argue, and it would seem the New Testament writers at least would agree, that the hope of the world lies in the Church, not the church in your neighborhood (or region, but that's another rant for another time).

Maybe I'm overstating things (it would be far from the first time), but it's just something that concerns me sometimes.

Fathers and Sons

2006-08-13T12:39:00.000-07:00

I'll admit it, when I first learned that Sarah was pregnant, I kinda hoped for a girl. I don't know if it was passed on to me by my father, who always wanted a baby girl but had to settle for two sons, or if I just loved the middle name we'd picked for a girl so much, but it was almost a disappointment when the ultrasound showed external plumbing. Almost. See, something happened in the very moment that I first saw my son for what he really was. I can't really explain, but there was an instant connection made, and I knew that God's creation growing inside my wife was good. I was very excited to meet Caleb from that day on throughout the rest of the pregnancy.

Six weeks ago now, we finally met face-to-face. The things about parenting that excite me most (reading, playing, creating together) still lie in the future, but there's an undeniable bond between us already. Maybe I wanted a girl because I was afraid that my inability to rough-house, to do the things I see able-bodied fathers do with their sons, would negatively affect my relationship with a boy. That all seems so inconsequential now, because I know that there is a higher calling in being a father. I don't mean that the relationship between father and son is more important than father/daughter, mother/son, or mother/daughter. All I guess I'm trying to say is that I can instill masculinity, a faithful, humble, complete masculinity, in my son without being able to put him in the figure-four leglock. I don't need to teach him to be "wild at heart" or a "barbarian in the wilderness", either. All he needs from me is love, the kind of love that comes from shared wonder.

I saw a bit of that in him already last night. We went to a baseball game, and afterwards, there was a fireworks show. He was absolutely transfixed, mouth wide open and eyes big enough to take it all in. As he sat in my arms, I felt the same way. Oh, the fireworks were great, but there was something bigger happening. We were sharing wonder, and if he can get that from something as synthetic as a fireworks display, then I can't wait to share Narnia with him. Or Middle-earth. Or the burr oak down on Main Street Hill (he loves trees already). Or The Art Institute of Chicago. Or the ivy on the walls at Wrigley, while we're at it. Or even Grand View Drive back here in the River City.

As he grows, I can't wait to share with him the things I love, the things I wonder at. Mozart. Beethoven. The Flaming Lips. But I'm even more excited to find out those things that he'll discover on his own and share with me. That's why I'm here. To nurture and protect, and discipline and teach him, sure. But that's all just so I can be taught by him. That's what being a father is. And maybe, as we learn from each other, we'll learn a little more about the world around us and the God who creates it for us to enjoy.

The Book of Common Prayer: The less practical (but almost equally important) answer to Why?

2006-08-04T16:43:00.000-07:00

It's taken me awhile to really decide how to proceed with this part of the story, and I'm still not completely sure I've got a clear idea, but now seems like the time for writing.

I thought about calling this post "Anglican theology" or "Anglican history" or "I like pretty words" or somesuch thing, but I've realized that all these points can be adequately summarized by talking about the major role the actual Book of Common Prayer has played in our journey to the holy catholic and apostolic church. The BCP contains everything I love about Anglican theology, is itself the penultimate product of Anglican history, and is full of, well, pretty words. The prayers, whether they be collects, the prayers of the people, prayers for special occasions, or the majestic eucharistic prayers, are able to bring me into a sense of God's quiet, terrifying presence in corporate worship in a way that other liturgical and/or praise and worship forms have not. The BCP (especially the 1979 edition) has the Eucharist as its heartbeat, and that's vitally important in my development as a follower of Christ. Whether it was growing up United Methodist, where we didn't celebrate communion every week, or my formative years in the independent Christian Churches, where we did celebrate every week, but usually in a rushed, awkward manner in between the sermon and the offering, I'd been yearning for Holy Communion to be restored to its rightful place (in my opinion) at the center of weekly worship. Needless to say, that's exactly what we found in Episcopal worship.

I particularly love that the BCP's treatment of the Eucharist was born in historical compromise between the Roman Catholics and Protestants in Britain, and is manifested in a crucial theological balancing act between the catholic belief in the real presence of Christ in the elements (a view I've always, albeit sometimes very privately, held) and the protestant understanding of communion as a memorial feast (again, a view I've always held). It seems silly to me to divorce these views from each other, as they both ring true and both seem to have the support of scripture.

I could go on and on about the other ways in which I've come to appreciate the beauty of Anglican compromise, and spend just as much time lamenting the ways in which this specific genius is being ignored in the current battles over Episcopalianism's direction, but then I wouldn't have anything to rant about in future posts.

Suffice it to say for now that it was the combination of the loving community we discovered at Trinity Parish and the amazing theology we discovered in the Book of Common Prayer that convinced us that we should let a bishop squeeze our heads and confirm us as members of The Episcopal Church. Now that we find ourselves in a new church, in a new diocese, there are definitely challenges to that decision, but nonetheless we carry on with our new faith home.

Believing and Following - A Diversion

2006-07-28T20:54:00.000-07:00

I'll get back to the story of how we became Episcopalian in a bit, but a quick aside:

A lot of people, particularly American Christians of all stripes, want to make belief in Jesus the most important decision we make on our faith journey. I'm not sure I can make that mesh with what Jesus himself seems to expect from his followers in the gospel accounts. There's actually very little talk about belief at all. Sure, there's John 3:16, but could we please come to a consensus in the Christian community that there's way more going on in the gospels than one small portion of Jesus' conversation with a Pharisee?

My point is that Jesus seems a lot more concerned with whether his friends are following him or not. I don't think that's any small difference. He rarely (if ever, again Nicodemus was never a public supporter of Jesus until after the crucifixion) asks his disciples to hold the correct belief in him. He does eventually ask them who they think he is, but that's after they've been with him awhile. He simply asks them to follow. And it seems that in the following, they figure out who he is.

Why, then, do we spend so much effort making sure people believe the right things? The rich young ruler went away because his possessions made following Jesus difficult, not believing in him. Can we ask people to follow Jesus for awhile before we even start to sweat what they believe? What is it that makes following difficult? Will it drive seekers away if we ask them to actually follow his example rather than convincing them that a bowed head, a repeated prayer, and indoctrination in the "right" teaching has anything at all to do with salvation and redemption? Is it more important to love and to seek peace than it is to tell people that if they don't accept certain teachings about scripture, then they're in serious trouble? With who? Jesus said, "I am the way..." Doesn't that mean he can save whomever he pleases? What if that's completely beyond our control or influence? Does it matter if we're purpose-driven or part of the holy catholic and apostolic church or whatever if we can't even worship with those we disagree with? Maybe there really is no longer Jew nor Gentile, male nor female, liberal nor conservative, gay nor straight, Protestant nor Catholic... Then what?

What would happen if the church followed first, and worried about belief later?

Trinity Parish: The practical answer to Why?

2006-07-25T19:06:00.000-07:00

When Sarah and I began attending Trinity Episcopal Church in Lincoln, IL, I think we both hoped that we'd found a place to rest awhile. We found that, for sure, but we also discovered that there was more at Trinity than met the eye.

We had just left a bigger, more "successful", culturally relevant church with a nice, professional worship team and a nice, professional preacher and a nice, professional website. None of that is bad, and to be honest, I actually have very few if any hard feelings about our time there. It was simply clear as we left that we needed to avoid attending another similar church in Lincoln.

I knew very little about Trinity, and even less about Episcopalianism, but I had visited a couple of times with my college roommate a few years before. Well, my main reason for choosing Trinity at the time was that I wanted a slightly more liberal church that still took ancient practices seriously. Again, it's not like the church we'd left behind was super-conservative or anything, I just felt the need to be in a place where the gospel was more than just a sales pitch. Little did I realize how ridiculous quaint labels like liberal and conservative were going to become, religiously-speaking.

Fr. Cravens, the rector (rector? damn near killed 'er!) at Trinity, presented the first challenge to my simple-mindedness. He received his M. Div. from Union Seminary in New York, widely considered to be a very liberal divinity school, yet he is a fairly buttoned-down career military man who holds some pretty traditional opinions concerning the nature of Christ. Considering that the first bishop he served under was John Shelby Spong, that's saying something. Fr. Jim has become a close friend, so I'll save more on him for later writings.

The absolute, most practical reason we stayed at Trinity is the people, without a doubt. Being surrounded by a loving community during Sarah's pregnancy was an incredible blessing. Beyond that, watching a congregation composed of rich and poor, college professors and factory workers, old and young, join together in common prayer and fellowship was an amazing thing to witness. Bill, the senior warden, whose knees give out when he stands too long and is too stubborn/faithful to use that as an excuse to sit during hymns, still has a smile for us when we visit. Steve and Susie run the Blue Dog Inn, and someday soon Steve will probably grab Caleb from us and not give him back for a good stretch of time. Betty, who took us out for lunch the very first week we visited, sent us a card after Caleb was born. And Ellie, the painfully shy lady who lives alone in the high-rise but has a tremendous sewing gift, will be sending us a baby blanket soon. I haven't even mentioned Clyde and Shari, or Chris and Emily, or Jorge and Nancy. I haven't told you about Vicki, Ellen, Butch, Ava, Theo, Little Joe, or the Gray family. None of this is to say that I haven't felt loved or cared for in the other churches of which I've been part. Not at all. It's just that finding such a wonderful family at Trinity made the decision to join the Episcopal Church that much easier. More on that next post.

Who is Jesus?

2006-07-22T20:16:00.000-07:00

I think I'll just start with a few pieces on our journey to Anglicanism, or at least make an attempt to explain why we're here, and not where we've been before. The website for the Episcopal Church provided me with a decent enough starting place with a brief survey entitled, "Who is Jesus Christ to you?"

So, here are their questions, and my responses:

Who is Jesus to you? How is Jesus important in your life? In today's world? For today's church?

Jesus is the incarnate Word, the fullness of God and of humanity. On a personal level, he is lord of my life, and I believe him to be savior to all. He is the bridegroom to the church's bride, the perfect lover for the perfect mess. In Christ there is hope of forgiveness, the promise of resurrection, and the fulfillment of humanity's longing for restoration with God and each other.

Has a certain text or artistic work (besides the Bible) shaped your understanding of Jesus?

Aslan the lion has always been a more vivid image of Christ to me than the Jesus of the gospels, though with time I have come to cherish those older portraits as well. Kazantzakis' Last Temptation and, disparately, Kevin Smith's Dogma have also added depth and nuance to my understanding of Jesus as the living Christ, though I remain unashamedly Chalcedon-compliant in my christology.

Has a certain experience shaped your understanding of Jesus?

Various mystical encounters through prayer and meditation, even from an early age, have grounded my understanding of who Jesus is, but an encounter with an illiterate, homeless Bible teacher last summer put flesh on the skeleton-Christ my imagination (and the Spirit) had erected in my mind.

2006-07-22T07:44:00.000-07:00

Just to prove that it won't be just abstract thoughts posted here, I'd like to share the trailers for three movies I absolutely can't wait to see this fall:

The Prestige

Children of Men

The Fountain

I'll write more about why these three films in particular have me in such anticipation, but for now, click those links!

2006-07-21T21:50:00.000-07:00

I've decided to start this separate space up so I can wax eloquently on matters that just don't seem to fit in with my original Xanga blog, which I plan to keep using as an outlet to keep in touch with my scattered friends. I plan on using this space for essays/reflections/rants on theology, philosophy, art, politics, or whatever else I deem is worthy of a slightly more serious discourse. I hope that my Xanga friends will check in here from time to time, but I also hope to maybe gain a wider readership as well.

I expect that a large portion of these scribblings will be concerned with the Anglican expression of Christianity, particularly from the perspective of the Episcopal Church, of which my wife and I are now confirmed members. My background and education in evangelicalism will doubtless come into play also, as I sort out my faith journey in terms of both where I've been and where I am now. As for where I'm going, I suppose this blog will help chart that course.

I certainly don't plan for this to be only a dour, introspective record of my various navel-gazing enterprises. Faith is only relevant for me insofar as it enhances my ability to live in communion with God and with others. Beyond that, I expect my walk with Christ to produce fruits of joy and fellowship with everyone I interact with, regardless of their particular religious affiliation (or lack thereof). Hopefully, this journal chronicles that as well, so that I can offer something enjoyable and beneficial to my readers.

To everyone slightly interested in where this goes from here, thank you.