On Noah

The first time I even heard that the movie Noah was coming out in theatres was in a stadium packed with Christians. What better venue to promote a movie based on a Biblical person than to those who know the story best? On top of that, what better way to make money off a movie than by having the MCs at an event encourage everyone in the room to go see it (and bring your non-Christian friends!). Hollywood knows a set of suckers when they see 'em.

But I digress. For it seems that there's a growing backlash against Noah led by none other than those who the movie is marketed to. Christians are telling other Christians NOT to see the movie.

One blogger (who actually felt it necessary to ensure his readers that he's a Christian in the title of his blog post) has gone so far as to give a complete synopsis of the film in order to convince his readers not to watch it. Why are Christians turning their back? Well, for various reasons--not being true to Scripture is one of them (something about rock people). The best reason I have heard so far is that the director, Darren Aronofsky, is ... wait for it ... atheist (GASP!). And he used the F word when talking about his film (double-gasp!). Oh, and he made other films with the F word actually in it. Sigh.

How's the song go? 'And they'll know we are Christians by how much we complain.'

So someone who is definitely not a Christian directs a movie about something in the Bible. His secret is out, so now all Christians are told to avoid the movie at all costs and tell all their friends that the director is an atheist so that they will boycott the movie as well.

Could you imagine the backlash if Aronofsky was gay?

Seriously, am I missing something here? Does Hollywood owe Christianity something? Is that the expectation, that whenever a film is based on a Biblical story it has to uplift the souls of the faithful and (hopefully) bring a few non-faithful to their knees in repentance?  Do we honestly believe that watching a story about God completely destroying all but a few souls on earth is going to drive the masses into church the following Sunday?

What gets me about this is that there are many Christians who would read about the personal beliefs of the director of Noah and turn their back on the movie, only to go home and turn their T.V. on to the season finale of Breaking Bad or the premiere of Game of Thrones without a thought to the beliefs of the directors or even about what they're actually watching. I have honestly heard more buzz in my Christian circles about Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones than I have about Noah--and nobody blinks an eye at the gratuitous sex scenes of GoT and the violence of BB when they talk about getting together to watch.

I have to admit, I haven't seen this movie--not for any of the reasons cited above but because a night out to watch a movie generally costs us over $50 when you factor in the babysitting.  But I'm sure I'll watch it someday.  And if you intend to boycott the movie, ask yourself why.  Are you watching it so that you can be reassured in your faith?  I'm sorry that a movie has to do that for you.  Because the entire movie is just that: a movie. A film to watch more for it's entertainment value than for a spiritual revival.  The point is not about us as Christians gloating in the fact that Hollywood produced a Biblical story true to Scripture.

Does Noah twist Scripture?  Sure.  But at least you know it.  There will be countless people who will watch this movie and think what they're seeing is Biblical.  What a great opportunity to tell those people about how it really went down ... or up (depending on whether you're talking about before or after the rain--ha!).  And it's a great opportunity to finish the story of Noah, because chances are the movie doesn't end with Christ.  Christ who told us to complain go and make disciples.  What a great opportunity to start.

thoughts on God [pt. two]*

My biggest issue with atheism / anti-theism concerns its assumption that humans are the pinnacle of the natural world. Oddly enough, I also battle against my own anti-atheism concerning this point. Here's why: Christianity also assumes that humanity is the pinnacle of the natural world. The only difference between the two is what prompted the human race to begin with: chance or design. Under chance, humanity is the pinnacle of the natural world because it was selected to be so. Through millennia of evolution, humans rose to the top, able to think and to know that they think. Under design, humanity, too, is the pinnacle of the natural world because it was also selected to be so. God's design put Adam and Eve in the garden, capable to think and to know that they think--to do right and wrong, and to know the difference between the two. And it's true: God breathed new life into the father of humanity and declared him to be very good. Christians like to emphasis that, of all creatures God created, only mankind was made in His image. At a glance then, whether by chance or grand design, both theism and atheism point to humanity as the end goal of the natural world. Despite this, I still cannot believe that I am simply a pawn in evolution's game.

History has proven one thing to be true: when a human (or group of like-minded humans) decides that his will, his desire, his goals and aspirations are of primary importance and carry supreme authority, he will do whatever it takes to enforce them on others. Think the Crusades, slavery, Joseph Kony. The convenience of misinterpreting the Bible for personal gain is evidenced through the various practices of religious violence over generations of Christians, supposedly acting in the name of God. So the solution for atheists is simple: reject God. The rejection of God is placed into human hands, who have complete freedom to make and do whatever they choose. Thus, faith in God shifts towards complete faith in self--in humanity. So, when personal experiences of a supreme being (see part one and comments) is filtered through the atheistic lens of human reason (and science), it cannot be quantifiably proven and, is therefore considered false. But the problem is not God. The problem is the very thing to which atheism would have us turn. Whether God exists or not, humans will always have to contend with human nature. The atheistic belief that the end of religion will naturally result in the termination of violence is naïve at best. Atheism does not resolve the conflicts that result from the human desire for power over one's own choices, direction, and enemies.

So, where is the difference within Christianity? If, as mentioned, humans are still the pinnacle of the created world, how is it different from atheism, and why should there be any different result within Christianity? The critical difference is in the source of human existence. An atheistic, god-less, chance-based world leaves the betterment of a happenstance world in the hands of happenstance humans (religious or non-religious). A theistic, God-centered world leaves the betterment of a designed and created world in the hands of a sovereign creator. The difference is huge. Instead of looking to self for the reason and purpose of existence--not to mention hope--Christianity points to God. God created man for His glory, that their lives would bring glory to Him (perhaps part three will delve into God's ego). The rejection of God only serves humanity in its narcissism and pride. Christianity, on the other hand seeks the pure entrance of God in Christ into the stained realm of creation. Christianity admits that without Christ, who offers freedom from the delusion of atheism and the desire for self-sufficiency, there is no hope for humanity.

*with excerpts from a personal paper on theism.

thoughts on God [unfinished]

A couple of weeks ago, I finished reading the book god is not great by Christopher Hitchens. Out of its reading, I have concluded this: It is near impossible to discuss faith with a person who holds strictly to science and reason. I imagine such a conversation going something like this:

"Well, the Bible says..."
"I don't believe in the Bible."
"Then Jesus said..."
"Jesus never existed."
"Okay. Then faith tells me..."
"Faith? Bah!"

Pointless. Absolutely pointless. The most contested area between the atheist and the theist revolves around the reality of the metaphysical, and the existence of God. Atheists, if they hold to a strict naturalist worldview, will never consider whether or not anything exists outside of the quantifiable physical world in which we live and move. In my estimation (and experience), this view is extremely limiting and potentially dangerous. Case in point:

Several years ago I was part of a team leading a group of teenagers through the streets of the Downtown East Side of Vancouver. In an unplanned moment, due to a need to fill some time, we decided to do a "prayer walk" along East Hastings, starting from Main and walking West towards Pigeon Park. I ended up with a group of about 10 teens, and we decided to simply walk East to West on the North Side of Hastings, praying silently as we went. It wasn't long before we were stopped by a woman in the most unusual way. All I remember of the words in her half-minute montage, and only because they were directed at me, were "You son of Satan!"

Let me clarify. As a group, we were not loudly stating our prayers--we were not obvious in our actions as we walked. And before that day, and since that day I have walked along East Hastings a number of times and never been stopped, approached, or yelled at. This has become a moment in my mind that clarifies, solidifies and proves to me the existence of a world outside of the physical, quantifiable realm. It may not be enough for the greatest of skeptics, and I will accept that. Hitchens may suggest that this woman simply had a mental issue, which is medically speaking very likely. But then, my question is, Why at that moment? Why did this woman decide in that moment to spew her words towards us, as we walked and prayed? And more importantly, Why those words? Of the wide variety of expletives available in the English language, why did she choose to get the devil involved? The worldview I adhere to suggests that we are living in both a physical and spiritual world, where a battle continues to rage between God and Satan--a world that we can encounter from time to time.

You may ask, Why do I not experience this more often? To which, I can only restate what I have written about before: the distractions of the culture we live in greatly diminishes my ability to recognize God in the everyday. And perhaps, that is the struggle of atheism. In a world where reason and science rule, in which humanity is the apex of evolution, it is a wonder that one would look beyond himself and the physical world in which he exists. If one does not expect to know anything outside of himself and the physical world, how can he experience anything else? Without the experience of God, modern society would simply turn into the narcissistic, ego-centric, self-gratifying, greedy, and sexually confused kind of world we are all a part of. The distinctiveness of the Christian faith should point foremost to a Creator God through whom all things live, move and have their being.

Of course, this unfinished thought did not touch at all on many of Hitchen's tiresome, sarcastic and anti-religious tirades concerning the historicity of religious wars and the unfounded proofs concerning the Bible (valid points which I hope to get to eventually). But without at least a hint of the existence of God, there would be no point in bringing that up. Perhaps in a future post...

on direction

Direction
--not intention--
leads to destination

--some sage advice from our pastor the other day.

When my internal ponderings unhinge themselves from thoughts of work, marriage, home, etc, I consider, once again, my role as an employee, husband, man, Christian, [soon-to-be-father]. The thoughts come not in a narcissistic, egotistical manner, but in a more rounded set of introspections as one who finds himself in a vast, fallen, sometimes harsh and always complex world. In truth, the questions always (must?) come back to me and what my role within this framework is to be. Am I holding up my end of the bargain? Am I just doing and not being? Is waiting a good thing?

A series of questions crossed my train of thought the other day via a sermon:

What path am I on?
Where does it lead to?
Is that where I want it to end up?

All the best intentions will never lead to desired destination. I can intend to drive from A to B, but without direction, I'll likely end up at Z. To some, direction comes easy. For me, not so much...but that is changing. On top of these questions have come a number of challenges:

A challenge to be wise.
A challenge to be a man.
A challenge to be Godly.

I'm learning that without wisdom, I have no direction. And I am no longer just leading myself. My "i's" have become "we's." The easy thing to do is just let things be and see how they work out. But I know that's not what is expected of me, as a husband, as a Christian, as a man. So what's left? To pick up the pieces. To pick up the pieces of the past, examine them, rediscover them for the misdirection they have offered, to put them back down. And then to walk on. Lack of direction has left me with nothing but dreams and intentions. These, too, I must re-examine for their worth and potential, and then do with them what is best--what is manly, wise, and Godly.

Direction
--not intention--
leads to destination

seeds [cont'd]

I just started a class on the Gospels today, and one of the first assignments was to read through the book of Mark. Since this whole garden thing started, I've noticed more and more the amount of times the idea of seeds and planting is written about in the Bible--either in actuality or in imagery. My ears have become more attuned to any mention of seeds and planting than they've ever been. It's kind of like owning (or previously owning) a Suzuki Swift. Every time I pass another Swift, I notice it. It's not intentional; it just happens because I was associated with that type of car and immediately take notice of it. Yes. Reading about seeds and planting in the Bible is kind of like owning a Suzuki Swift.

Jesus said, "The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come."

Now I know there are scientific and biological reasons for plants growing and sprouting the way they do. Our beans and our onions are doing this, but my naivetée in the science of plant growth renders me astounded by the fact that actual plants are sprouting out of what were once tiny seeds. I sleep and rise night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; I know not how.

It seems that one of the current fashionable ideas about the kingdom of God is that it is 1) a present reality and 2) a future reality--that the kingdom of God is here now and is coming soon. It's a complicated theological idea, but one that, even in this short parable, seems to hold some truth: the kingdom of God is a present reality as it grows and ripens and will be a future reality when it reaches full maturity. The coinciding fashionable idea about the kingdom of God is that we are a part of it--that we are in this kingdom even now, and we are a part of its growth and maturity. There was a time when I thought I had all that figured out, but in a sense, I am relearning what this means--that it is more than simply doing what is right but in believing what is right. The "doing" is nothing without a solid foundation of faith. I think. But if there is no faith, than what is the point in doing? Right? All that to say, that this kingdom--this present and future reality--must grow out of something, just as seeds grow out of soil. Maybe faith is the soil from which this kingdom grows.

pockets of sadness.

Listening to Q yesterday, one of the guests said something quite profound, though I'm not sure he realized it. He was referencing an interview earlier in the week with Charles Montgomery who suggested that Vancouver ranked low on the "happiness" meter. So a few days later, this guest, in the midst of a rant on how great a city Vancouver is, despite the statistics, mentioned that within Vancouver there are "pockets of great sadness." Those words immediately resonated in my mind. Pockets of sadness. He, of course, was referring to the Downtown East Side.

But in his study, Montgomery wasn't talking about the amount of happiness on the East Side, where one might expect there to be a deep level of disatisfaction in the poverty-stricken neighbourhood. He was talking about the upper-class West side of Vancouver. His study ultimately reveals that "the richer the city you live in Canada, the less likely you are to be happy." We've all heard these studies before, and we've all heard the cliché: money doesn't buy you happiness. And as much as we know it's true, we all have this built-in, media-driven tendency to buy the next best thing that will truly make us happy, don't we?

But are the pockets of sadness really in the areas where we find the greatest amount of need? Or are they in the areas where we find the least amount of want?

The Beatitudes

"God blesses those who realize their need for him,
for the Kingdom of Heaven is given to them.
God blesses those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
God blesses those who are gentle an lowly,
for the whole earth will belong to them.
God blesses those who are hungry and thirsty for justice,
for they will receive it in full.
God blesses those who are merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
God blesses those whose hearts are pure,
for they will see God.
God blesses those who work for peace,
for they will be called the children of God.
God blesses those who are persecuted because they live for God,
for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs."

non-emergent

The one hour time difference has brought some minor changes to my morning commute. Six o'clock is once again shrouded in darkness, though by the time I leave for the bus at seven, a bit of light begins to filter through the black. And on the kind of mornings we've had over the past week (bitterly cold and brilliantly clear), the sunrise is in its full glory by the time I start heading Northeast on the skytrain--the perfect vantage point from which to view the silhouetted frames of Mt. Baker and his mountainous friends in the far East. I've taken to simply enjoying the morning nature show from the skytrain until we start heading West and the sunrise continues out of sight--at which point, I pick up whatever free newspaper I'm handed on my way into the 22nd Street station. Or I continue reading my book of choice for the daily commute.

I just finished the book, Why We're Not Emergent (by two guys who should be) by Kevin DeYoung and Ted Kluck. It was lent to me by a friend in perfect condition though now, with a bit of travel under it's belt, I've managed to dog-ear the corners. We had gotten to talking about the Emerging Church Movement and, after explaining a bit of my experiences and questionings in the past, I soon had this book in my hands. Limitied to one hour a day on the bus and skytrain, it took a while to get through the book, but on finishing it I thought I'd offer my unprofessional critique. I often read books uncritically and never actually process what I'm reading, but I want to change that. I'll start with this book.

Within the first chapter I realized that I may relate more to this book than I anticipated. DeYoung is a Reformed pastor in Michigan--the mecca state of the Christian Reformed Church--so he immediately gained my attention. Kluck, a sportswriter, attends the same church as far as I could tell in their writing, so it is obvious that the criticisms in this book towards the emerging movement would be Reformed in nature. DeYoung does an excellent job of thinking critically through the printed words (ie. books, blogs) of some of the major emergent leaders: Brian McLaren, Rob Bell, Leonard Sweet, Erwin McManus. Though (unfortunately) neither author ever had a conversation with any one of these guys, DeYoung is able to pick apart what he believes to be theological unsound statements and beliefs held by the emerging movement. And he does this well, challenging the movement to stop asking questions in some key issues of Christianity [around the foundational aspect of Scripture (The Bible tells us what is true. Our thinking about God, ourselves, and the Word should start with the Bible and never contradict the Bible. In that sense, what's so wrong with calling the Bible our foundation?), the desire for Christ over doctrine (Once we say something about why Jesus is glorious and what His life was like and what it accomplished, aren't we settling back into dogma and religion again? The Jesus-versus-theology mantra is centuries old, and it makes no more sense and no more converts today than a hundred years ago.), propositions, hell, salvation, and others] and to start providing answers. There is too much confusion in all this questioning, and there are some absolute truths that we must hold on to, he might say.

I had a tough time getting through Kluck's writing. While DeYoung wrote from a more theologically sound view (the advantage of being a Reformed pastor, I'm sure), Kluck attempted to draw his reader into various anti-emergent conversations he's had with others along the way. It was distracting and lacked what one might call a Point. And maybe that was his point--to show that non-emergent folk can have intelligent conversations and learn from them, too, just like their emergent counterparts. From the start though, I was distracted by his writing, I wasn't looking for the [churches] with the biggest projection screens, the coolest "gathering place," or the best film discussions, and then proceeding in the same chapter and the next to explain how movies such as Rebel without a Cause, Jerry Maguire and Thank You for Smoking are relevant to his discussion on being non-emergent. That and his use of Wikipedia as a source for his understanding of what "futurist" means. All that to say, if you want to learn from this book and gain some valuable, theologically sound insight into some concerns about the emergent movement, read the chapters written by DeYoung, who finishes the book (and this short book review post) well:

In the end, it all comes back to God. We become what we worship. If God is relational, inviting, and mysterious overwhelmingly more than He is omnipotent, just , and knowable, then the gospel becomes a message overwhelmingly about community, inclusion, and journey. But if God is overwhelmingly holy, righteous, and graciously sovereign, then the gospel becomes a message about sin, justification, and undeserved mercy. To borrow from Jonathan Edwards, what we need to recover is a vision of God in all His "diverse excellencies."

a year of waiting.

It's the beginning of February and I'm just now getting around to writing about last year. 2006 was a year of completion. 2007 of experiencing. 2008 was, if I were to put into one word: newness. I think. It's the first word that comes to mind, but it was chased into my head by another word: commitment. Newness is fitting though, what with a new job, a new wife, new home, new school ... new life. Instead of turning a page to a new chapter, it's almost like I finished the prequel and cracked open its sequel. And within this first chapter of newness is a deep awareness commitment. No longer can I get bored and move on--of these new experiences, I'm in it for the long haul. This is the first chapter of many, and I'm eager to see what happens. Which brings me to 2009. This time, I'm not going to look back in January 2010 to figure out what the previous year was all about. I already know what 2009 is. 2009 is a year of waiting. ...let me backtrack a few weeks.

New Year's Eve was spent on a little plot of land called Mayne Island, between the Mainland and Vancouver Island. A few folks from our Bible Study got together for a few days in order to ring in the New Year with a bit of a spiritual focus. Somewhere between reminiscing the year gone by and thinking about the year to come, 2008 slid into 2009. Champagne was opened, glasses were clinked, the Happy New Year song was sung. My wife and I kissed.

The Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says, 'Only in returning to me and waiting for me will you be saved. In quietness and confidence is your strength.' But the Lord still waits for you to come to him so he can show you his love and compassion. For the Lord is a faithful God. Blessed are those who wait for him to help them. [Isaiah 30:15,18]

January 1, 2009 began with those words and with a challenge: are we willing to actively wait for God? Even more so, are we willing to actively wait for [and within] His will? Patience is a lost virtue in our society. Perseverance, non-existent. And I've grown accustomed to pursuing the next best thing to come along. But with all the newness begun in 2008, it strikes me that each new circumstance carries with it a long-term commitment. We don't know exactly what we're waiting for, but waiting patiently is what Susan and I felt called to in this new year. In time I will be finished school, Susan will be ready to move on from her job, and we are open to whatever possibilities are open to us. And the hard part . . . the really hard part is ... waiting.

...and on...

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my place in the sphere of postmodern North American Christianity. I suppose this thinking comes from a foundational re-grounding of my faith by way of “settling.” It is difficult, at times, to accept the regularly scheduled week, regularly attending church and Bible Study and the acquisition of things. I fought against most of these elements of settled life for quite a while, and it is taking some time to get used to it all. The truth is, we’re here and we’re trying to make the most of it. I’m learning to live a regular life in our postmodern North American society, and it feels … okay. Lately it has even been feeling … good. And I think it’s because I have settled.

No longer am I simply doing what’s next, or what “feels right.” No longer a nomad, I have reason and time for introspection. My faith is being re-grounded, reshaped and solidified through an incapability to escape. I am no longer doing things to please God. Instead I am getting a better grasp of this God for whom I do things. We are receiving solid Biblical teaching, not from a pastor whose attempts to break down the traditional church mold trump the truth of the Gospel, but from a pastor who really speaks foundational truth. The Godly wisdom he imparts parches my thirst. I am challenged in my faith by others and as hard as it has been to take, I need it. In some ways it feels as though there has been some heavy duty chiseling happening. My cynicism towards the church has dwindled. I have read more from the emerging church movement and have begun to question it’s attitude and theology. They, too, have missed the mark, I think. Cynicism gives rise to pride. I am guilty of that, and am coming to grips with it.

My blogging has been slagging lately, partially because of busyness and partially because I find myself relaxing instead. At some point I hope to return to semi-regularly blogging, maybe when this semester is over.

counter-culture

I recently stumbled across a website for an online campaign, Make Affluence History. I'm not sure how long this campaign has been running and I have a sense that it doesn't have as strong a following or is as global as another, much-loved and popular campaign, Make Poverty History. Yeah, it's great to have a global campaign against poverty, but the convenient aspect of such campaign is that we can still support the cause from our homes and the comforts we refuse to leave behind. We can wear a wristband in the name of a good cause and pretend that we've done enough to solve the problem we think we're addressing. Oh, wristbands...

This campaign against affluence reminds me of #6 on the recently updated seven deadly sins. Gone are the sins of lust, greed, sloth, gluttony, envy, pride and wrath. Today's sins are meant to reflect modern society, though I tend to think that adding "polluting the environment" was more of a response to popularity trends than anything else; like what any politician would add to his (her?) platform in order to obtain votes. Though I doubt, with items such as "birth control" on the list, people are flocking to the Catholic Church for it's updated list of sins.

What I like about the Make Affluence History campaign is that the idea behind it (social awareness and real action) is so counter-cultural. I have for years attempted to write something here about counter-culturalism, but have yet to string my words together on this topic in any coherent manner. Though I like where I was headed in the following unpublished post, also titled "Counter-Culture", written last September:

I'm ready to buy into the system. The system I have fought against for so long has finally latched it's little hooks into my wandering mind, and taken hold. I want it. It is whatever it is you see as you sit in your living room. The TV, the couch, the bookshelf. It is whatever catches your eye as you roam around the office. The new computer, the steady income, the established position. The title. It.

This as I read a book entitled: The Jesus of Suburbia: Have We Tamed the Son of God to fit our lifestyle?

A couple of nights ago, I sat on the edge of a lake in Algonquin Park. It is one of the rare places in Ontario where you can sit still and literally listen to nothing, except for the odd tent zipper opening or closing and a distant loon call. ...or a fireside debate. At one point during the night, either through a need to discuss certain matters, or through a boldness brought on by a safe amount of alcohol, I asked the question to my fellow church-going camp-mates, 'What do you think of church?'

'It's over-rated,' came an immediate reply. Impressed by such a quick response, I asked why that was his first reaction. 'Because it's what you said last week,' he replied. Touché.

So what does any of this have to do with "the system", or "The Jesus of Suburbia", or Algonquin Park, for that matter? It all comes back to something that has long sat in the recesses of my mind, occasionally coming forth to remind me that there is something more to the faith I adhere to. It is one thing that brings hope and despair to the life of one who is required to live out their faith in the North American context. It is the understanding that, in his lifetime, Christ was counter- cultural. It's what made him so compelling to the masses, and so problematic to the church authorities of his day.

I'm not sure if I'm still ready to buy into "the system"...

[as I defined in another unpublished post from last February:

the system

We're surrounded by it everyday, so it's hard to notice. It's like the air we breathe. The ground we walk on. The route we travel to work. It's called 'the system'. And like all these things, it changes. Our air is less breathable. The ground transforms from dust to concrete. Our route is widened and more stop lights are added. The system confines, all in the names of 'freedom' and 'progress'. And we keep with the system because it's far better than any other system anywhere else in the world. Or so we think.

The system surrounds, infects, pervades all aspects of North American life as we know it today: cultural, financial, economical, religious, educational, our global perspective. And the system is run by one thing: money.

It doesn't change. And if it does, it does so incrementally, that the change is only recognizable when it's taken away for a period of time. Only when it's replaced, or when the routine is returned to do we see the change. And the potential harm it is.

It's the system.]

...but I'm still captivated by this idea of being counter-cultural. Last night I enjoyed a Starbucks Grande Caramel Macchiato with the leader of our small group, an older man recently retired from teaching. We got to talking about being counter-cultural, he and I. I told him a bit about our struggle in registering for wedding gifts, that we have a desire to register only for the things we need, but find it hard to justify the expenses of even these things. And since we do plan on living here for at least a couple of years, we recognize that the things we are registering for are needed. We love the idea of being Christ-like in a counter-cultural sense, but are caught between that and the reality of where we live. Ha. It begs the question, doesn't it?

Footnote: I'm actually quite disturbed by the fact that my intended mockery of the WWJD bracelet early in this post has bitten me in the ass. Quite disturbed.

the epitome of laze.

A couple of weeks ago, while catching up on some taped Lost episodes, we were interrupted by the requisite commercial break, including one about this refrigerator. Fridges have come a long way since the birth of freon. Not only do they come with ice-dispensers, but with TVs, internet, self-ordering functions, and yes, even door-ajar alarms. But this fridge has even beaten that idea with its self-closing function. That's right. The doors close on their own. It is, in my estimation, the epitome of laze. I'm the first to admit that I enjoy lazing around, so please note the hypocrisy in some of what I am about to say, though in my mind I make a distinction between sitting around doing nothing and allowing my fridge to close itself. It begs a fundamental question concerning needs vs. wants.

The idea of needs vs. wants mainly comes from recent experiences as Susan and I have been registering for wedding gifts. There are certain things we need. As we're pretty much starting out fresh, we need a kitchen table and we need dishes to eat off our table. We need a bed and we need blankets to keep us warm in that bed. We need living room furniture and we need snack bowls to eat from while we sit in that furniture. This may even go beyond what others may consider needs, but we genuinely think we need these things. The difficulty we've been having has been those other things that, well, we'd like to have but don't necessarily need. I'd like to think we would use a blender, but I'm also aware of the fact that the idea of having a blender is much nicer than the reality of using one. Do we need a 4-popper toaster? We can probably get by with a 2-popper, but we've registered with a company that only seems to carry 4-poppers. Do we need the expensive duvet and duvet cover? No, we could probably get by with an Ikea version of the same, but Ikea doesn't do gift registries. Do we need the $200 pair of kitchen chairs? No (see our Ikea quandry). How about the $200 coffee maker? ...wait, is that even a valid question? Of course we do! (note previous remark about hypocrisy).

Contentment in material possessions is difficult in our culture, isn't it? How do we balance out the things we need with the things we want? Or should there even be a balance? What does it mean when we read David's words in the oft-quoted verse, The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want? (Psalm 23). Does David have no want because God has given everything he ever wanted? Or is there no want because God is everything he needs? Easy for David to say, he probably didn't even like coffee. But if the latter were true, how does that fit into our North American culture where God so easily takes a sideline to our credit card? Where our wants and needs can be bought just around the corner, whether we can afford it or not?

When I was in Northern Uganada a couple of summers ago, we were encouraged to discover how God was challenging us in our lives. I left pondering the question, why do I need God? I'm not convinced the answer to that question will easily come while I remain saturated in our culture. Where every drive to Vancouver reminds me of the insurmountable wealth this city boasts. Where the average house costs a little less than $500,000, the highest average in Canada. And I'm convinced that the church here will never be able to answer that question, because it's too busy fighting. Or maybe that is the challenge: to discover a need for God in an individualistic, materialistic, increasingly lazy culture. I'd write more, but I left the fridge door open.

seattle.

This past weekend brought an experience much enjoyed in the grand city of Seattle. It only takes a couple of hours to drive to the Emerald City, plus an hour or two for border traffic. Not bad for a lazy Sunday afternoon. I love Seattle. It settles nicely between Vancouver and Los Angeles on my rank of places I would love to live. Not only is it a beautiful city, but it is also extremely well designed, infrastructurally. Seattle boasts a well-organized spiderweb of bridges and tunnels and real highways, of which none exist in the Lower Mainland of BC. It's such a joy to weave through four lanes of highway. Vancouver has so much to live up to.

This latest venture to Seattle brought us to the Moore Theatre to catch Rob Bell in all his story-telling and deconstructing glory. He has an incredible way of picking apart the Christian faith, shuffling it around, and reorganizing it in an easy-to-understand-and-follow manner. Not that he gives a 'how-to' guide towards a better Christian life, like the latest book in the For Dummies series. Though I wouldn't be surprised if he published a book entitled Christianity for Dummies somewhere down the line. Never mind.

But one thing I do value in Rob Bell's words is his understanding of culture, and how certain ideas and stories in the Bible would be understood and read inside that culture. It's a perspective thing. Why would God ask Abraham to sacrifice his only son? Because, in those days, many cultures followed gods that demanded such a sacrifice. Child sacrifice was just a step towards appeasing the gods, and so it may not have come as a surprise to Abraham that the god he chose to follow would demand the life of his son. It's what you do to keep the gods happy. What's different about this god is that, at the last minute, he stops Abraham in mid-stab and provides an animal in recognition of Abraham's faith. The point of the story, according to Bell? Abraham's god is a god of provision. His god is different. His god cares. Unlike the gods of the surrounding cultures who would have allowed the murderous appeasement to continue.

The other aspect of Rob Bell's teaching that I much enjoy is the connection he makes between such age-old faith issues like sacrifice and present-day realities. Is sacrifice dead in our current Christian sphere of life? We'd like to think so. I mean there's no slaughter, no fire, no altar anymore. But we do still have the guilt and shame that was so directly associated with the sacrifices of old (the sacrifice was basically used to 'wipe the slate clean', so-to-speak. Forgiveness of sin came through sacrifice). So how do we deal with that now? Could it be the legalism that the church has fallen under? The 'do's' and 'don'ts' of Christianity? 'Do' this and you'll be right with God again. 'Don't' do this and you won't fall away. Yeesh. Not only does our society continue to pump fear into us, but so do many of the words we hear from the pulpit. And I'm not advocating a watering-down of the truths found in the faith, either. But there has to be a balance.

So what I love the most about the way Rob Bell's mind works is that he weighs everything out on the words and actions of Christ. Why is the altar no longer present in Christianity? Because a final sacrifice has been made. No more blood needs to be spilled. We hear it over and over again, but still struggle with this new foundation of faith: Grace. ...we'll save that topic for another day.

For more from Rob Bell, read his books or watch his movies.

in a community of God doubters...

The other day, I was shown a website for a church down in North Carolina. On top of their awesome Jesus Video parodies, they have a pretty interesting slogan: a community of God seekers, God followers, and God doubters. Hm. It's a slogan that fits well with the emerging church philosophy and it's response to postmodernism. Links abound in this post!

God-doubters. There is a movement, it seems, of churches who are trying to be everything that a church is not. The Meeting House, in Oakville, Ontario, has a slogan that basically states just that: a church for people who aren't into church. What? Are people getting sick of the church? Or are people just longing to see more from church? ...maybe a breakdown of the facade of perfection that many of our North American Churches portray. To suggest that their church is a community of God-doubters seems just as blasphemous as a church that claims it is a community of sinners, isn't it? Wait a minute...

So what's with this movement? Why are there now whole communities of Christians who claim to be anti-establishment, in a sense? Are their churches simply formed by individuals who have grown tired of church, and long to build something new and unique, with new and unique names? Or are they churches that have been built upon a deeper understanding of the world in which we live, the people who live in it, and the questions they are asking? Perhaps the most appealing aspect of the emerging church movement is that it replaces the idea of fixed doctrines and static beliefs with more flexible doctrines and a lot of asking questions. To them, faith is less about answers, and more about questions. It's a dialogue, not an indisputable statement of fact. While this has created animosity between mainstream churches and the emerging movement, it has also, in my opinion, given the church a glimmer of hope. A dose of reality. I have often been told that, when Christ was asked a question, he didn't provide a quick, ready answer. He responded with a question. He was into this dialogue thing. His parables often needed interpretation because he didn't always state outright what his point was. And though he might not answer a question, or might not interpret his parables, he was viewed by many as one who had authority.

So, the question: Does a community of God seekers, God followers and God doubters lose it's impact on the world? Or, through it's authenticity and lack of false-pretense, does it actually earn it's authority?

the coptics. [pt. 2]

"The Egyptian Coptic Church" is a sequence of words that has never crossed my ears before. I had never heard of this denomination of the Christian faith, and was curious to find out more while a group of them lived in Nakina and served in Aroland. All I knew of this group beforehand was that their priest (or Father) had to wear his uniform at all times, and that they were going to have mass every morning. Based on such little information, I had already decided what the Egyptian Coptic Church is: another church bound to a series of man-made laws that overshadow the teachings of Christ. A harsh judgment, sure. But I, along with a number of other young adults have become jaded with the structured, institutionalized churches of our North American society. Turns out, the Coptic church far precedes even the discovery of North America. It also turns out that they are, in fact, Egyptian, and date their beliefs to the gospel writer and apostle, Mark.

The Coptic church claims to have stuck to the original traditions handed down from the apostle Mark to the present day. I experienced and learned a number of these traditions: the holy bread with it's thirteen stamped crosses, the reciting of the Lord's Prayer, the reciting of Psalms, facing east while in communal prayer, the saints and the status of Mary, the incense and the chanting of Scripture. While many post-Reformation denominations form and divide over such trivial matters as whether congregates can wear perfume in the sanctuary (true story), the Egyptian Coptic Church has remained unwavering in the issues that matter. In some ways, it has no choice. Any decisions passed down by the Pope are established and made into law -- no questions asked. While it does put a lot of power into human hands (though the Pope is accountable to its council), it almost leaves no room for the questions that we (those of us who feel we have a better understanding of truth simply through our attitudes towards our modern day North American churches ) have. . I'm still deciding whether that is a good thing or not.

If I were to look at my beliefs, they would look like a mishmash of post-Reformation churches: Christian Reformed, Pentecostal, and Mennonite. I was raised in the Christian Reformed Church, experienced much spiritual growth through the Pentecostal Church and was educated under the Mennonites -- all the while learning more about the nature of an infinite God. My experiences with the Coptics has, in a way, grounded me. I have begun to ask a different set of questions, even of the benefit of Martin Luther's Reformation. Though many of Luther's issues with the Roman Catholic Church of his day were valid, was it necessary to break off from a belief rich in history and tradition? Is that what he really hoped for? This only resulted in a hodge-podge of denominations, each claiming to know the answers to every question of faith. Many of our modern-day North American churches root their beliefs in a set of man-made doctrines. These doctrines were written down hundreds of years ago in response to the heretics of their day. In essence, they were "solid" answers to valid questions, and have since never been questioned in return. And so, the debate continues between child and adult baptism, predestination, the power of the Holy Spirit, the infallibility of the Bible, and all the other theological questions that various demoninations differ on. This brings me back to the only question that should really matter: what does it mean when Christ says to love God and love my neighbour in the world I find myself in?

shooting stars and satellites.

One of the amazing things about the North is the vastness of stars. I’ve noticed them several times while on my drive from Aroland to Nakina late at night, and tonight I decided to just sit on the back porch and stare at them for a while. There are two things that amaze me about the night sky: shooting stars and satellites. If you watch the night sky long enough, you will eventually see the dim light of a satellite as it maintains its orbit around the earth. To think that we have left our mark in the vastness of space is amazing. Yet, amazing as they are, they are in no comparison to nature’s satellites. The fact that there are objects crashing to earth, burning up in the atmosphere with such fanfare and beauty, blows my mind. It’s so easy to get caught up in the day to day and forget that we are just a speck in the vastness of this universe. Literally, just a speck. What is man that You are mindful of him?

religion at a pub.

It doesn't take much to become involved in a conversation about religion. And more often than not, the topic is not even breached by the 'religious' ones....

This weekend we found ourselves at a resort in Kamloops. All eleven of us. We know eachother through school and through school connections. Over the past year we have all moved our separate ways, only to return to this chalet that overlooks Sun Peaks for a pre-wedding celebration. Our numbers will be reduced to nine in a short week's time.

Last night, we hit the town. ...well... We hit the village. Ski hills always have a village, and this one is no different. Though, with the end of the ski season, the village seems more like a ghost town. Those that remain behind are the outdoorsy type that find value and contentment in hanging around the ski resorts year round. Four of whom we met last night.

Part of our pre-wedding celebrations involved dressing up the bride and groom and heading to the local pub in search of a dance floor to bust some moves. The only pub open had no dance floor, and played 80s music all night long. Hardly conducive for us Dutchies (plus some) to break out our amazing dancing skills. And so, our night involved sitting around a table making as much noise as possible and talking to our local pubmates while enjoying the antics of the bride in her snakeskin pants.

Ski bums are cool folk. The four we met at the pub had an uncanny interest in our group. Probably because we tripled the amount of people in the pub while tripling the noise level inside those four walls. Our conversation began while paying the bill.

"Where are you guys all from?" one pubmate asked.
"The Lower Mainland area," I replied.
"How do you know eachother?"
"Most of us went to school together in Abbotsford."
"What kind of school?"
"It was a Bible College."

Let the religion discussion begin.

For the next hour and a half, four of us found ourselves engaged in conversation with the four of them. They were surprised by us. Surprised that we would walk into a pub at 11:30 at night. Surprised that we would order beer, and not 'specialty coffees', as was one girl's expectation. Surprised that we were 'cool people'. And perhaps they were surprised that we didn't sit and preach. We listened, we engaged, we challenged as much as we were challenged. I think in the end, we all learned a little more.

And we all agreed on one thing: Religion sucks. It truly does. Religion is the paintbrush that so easily strokes any person who might believe in a god with the same colour as the abusive priests, the hypocritical homosexual pastors, the adamantly anti-gay marriage campaigners (all three of which were mentioned by one pubmate as reasons why religion sucks). It's so easy to overlook us regular hypocrites, sinners, and God-followers when religious hypocrisy is such a mainstream idea to the atheist. The perception of Christianity is so easily skewed when human nature is involved. Does hypocrisy exist? In all of us, I would think. We all fail. All of humanity fails. Christian, Muslim, Jew, Atheist. That's just one thing that makes us all the same. But there's an expectation that Christians are perfect. Far from it.

Is the pursuit of a god just a crutch? A cop-out? Potentially, yes. If we let it become that. If the pursuit stops. If those of us who profess Christ fail to recognize 'the golden rule' that is so well-known (even by our pub friends): If love of self becomes more important than the love of our neighbour (and, ultimately God). When that happens -- and it will -- hypocrisy is soon to follow. Thank God for grace and forgiveness.

lessons learned.

Another week flown by. The past 7 days have been spent with a group of 40 teens in Juarez, Mexico. It’s hard to describe the week that was. I am learning never to underestimate those whom I see as inferior. And it’s not the Mexicans I speak of.

One morning in Juarez, I stumbled upon another lesson in life…a lesson in humility. While seeking out my third cup of coffee, I happened to catch the tail end of an impromptu prayer session. Walking into the dining room at our work site, I came across a young man pouring his heart out to God. He sat at the table fervently praying for our team, for the Mexicans we served, for Juarez and for the hearts of everyone involved in our trip. His hands moved eloquently with the words he seemed to so carefully choose. The clarity with which he spoke seemed to contradict the person I saw him to be on the outside. And yet his words were so impactful, it brought a few of us to tears. Here was a young man of 22 years old, pouring out his vision, his dreams, his heart and passion in the presence of the few of us fortunate enough to observe and listen. Here was a young man completely devoted to what he believed and what he desired for our team and for those we served. Here were prayers straight from the heart. Prayers that in an odd sort of way, put me to shame. For though this 22 year old may look and act several years younger due to Down Syndrome, he has the one thing we so often lack: The faith of a child.

Kudos, Jasen

Postmodernity, Atheism, Christianity, Questions

I'm not much of a YouTuber. Despite the hype and the innumerable mentions on nightly news, I've never caught on to the fad. Until today. I had no idea there was this secret underground world of Christian vs. Atheist debating going on via video. Encroyable, I say! I don't profess to know much about Atheism. Heck, I don't profess to know much about Christianity. It seems that whenever a discussion, editorial, video, blog, or any form of interactive media touches on why one chosen path is superior to the other, a heated debate ensues. More often than not, the debate occurs between head-in-the-sand, self-proclaimed Christians, and head-in-the-sand, self-proclaimed, 'free thinking' Atheists who banter back and forth with no real point. Search for "blasphemy challenge" on YouTube and you will come across a host of videos dedicated to an organization's call for people to 'commit the unforgivable sin' and deny the existence of any god. Read through the comments, and you will inevitably come across a debate where both 'sides' attempt to 'prove' why their 'belief' is 'right' and 'true'. Postmodernity in essence.

What is postmodernity? For the purposes of this post, I will use only one part of the ever-broadening definition of postmodernity, that is: all truth is relevant. That what you believe is fine for you to believe it. Meanwhile, I'll believe what I want to believe, because it works for me. There is no foundational truth in which to place our belief system because we will all have our own.

There are elements of truth to that. What I believe is based on my experiences, my understanding, my upbringing, what I read and how I interpret it. However, for me all of that is filed under the foundational beliefs of Christianity. Ugh. Ugh because that label is so despised by the 'rational-thinking' atheists in the world. To them, I have bought into a system of comfort. I've been brainwashed by a human contraption. Could it be that they have simply bought into a different system of comfort?

What I've come to understand through reading the various comments and debates on YouTube is this: Nobody has it all figured out. It takes faith in the words of a centuries-old book to believe in God, and it takes faith in scientific theories to believe there is no God. Neither 'side' has their faith figured out. All we can do, really...is ask questions. When the question-asking stops, legalism sets in. It becomes harder to grow in an understanding of what your beliefs mean when the answers are already provided for you by way of a faith doctrine or the doctrine of rational-thinking. For the Christian, the question we need to be asking should be: what does it mean when Christ says to love God and love my neighbour in the world I find myself in? Start there, and the questions will never stop. For Atheists, the question they need to be asking should be: Why do I find myself in this world? To atheists though, maybe there is no point to our existence. I think it would take a lot more faith to believe that. Then again, I am biased.

the B-I-B-L-E (yes, that's the book for me!)

I've taken to reading the Bible lately. It's a Lent thing, don't ask. Funny how one can pick up a book on any topic and start reading it with no thought as to what the 'underlying meaning' is behind the words read. Not so with the Bible. Since birth, I've been told that there is meaning behind everything that's written between Genesis 1 and Revelation 22. Everything. So, say when you read about the Israelites slaughtering the Canaanites, we're taught that God was giving them the Promised Land. If the Canaanites stayed, they would taint the Israelites, we're told. And that just couldn't be. Complete, total annihilation. And the Israelites failed. Complete, total failure. They got tainted. So we go through the Judges, who basically set the Israelites straight before dying and leaving them to their own waywardness. Proving that God cared for them because he sent them various Judges to rescue His people, we're told. How I would love to read the Bible for the first time. Maybe then I could get through more than 5 chapters at a time. It's ingrained in us, I think. Those of us who have been listening to or reading this thing for decades; we're conditioned to read between the lines. At all times. No longer can a story simply be a story. It has to have some sort of profound meaning. I'd probably read a lot more if I could just read it as a story. And if I hadn't heard most of the stories since birth. Yet, despite all that, I still love what I read ... between the lines ...

pain.

I think if we were given a reason for why there is pain and suffering in our world, we would use it as an excuse to not care for those who are experiencing it. Now we're left with the option to care. Because there's no reason for it.

The other day, an email was waiting in my inbox. It was from a youth who is working through an age-old question of faith: Why does God allow suffering in our world? Her question wasn't raised through class discussion, a youth group Bible study, or through a sermon she may have listened to. It was not philisophical in nature. It was not even blatantly theological. In fact, that wasn't really her question. Her questions were raised through her experiences in life: Why is a friend, who has been through so much crap and who doesn't have a strong relationship with God suddenly being dealt another rotten situation? Why is my life so easy in comparison? And what do I do?

Whew.

I could have responded with one of many Christian clichés about sin and the fall of man, but I think answers like that are designed to give us an excuse to carry on with our lives with our backs turned. Especially here in North America. I know I've used that as an excuse, and I continue to do so. She's probably heard all the clichés anyway -- after all, she did grow up in the church. What I've discovered in my few and brief experiences of talking to, listening to and being around those who suffer, is that I become the better for it. But I don't think that others are meant to suffer for my sake. For my growth. There's a balance that needs to be found. Though I'm not sure I've found it yet. I remember an episode that took place in Uganda last summer; something that I wrote about, but never posted here. It's the story (and thoughts) of Xavier:

We were brought to one of five campuses of the Kampala Pentecostal Church (KPC). In some ways it was like walking into a North American church. In others, it was a brand new experience. We sang the same worship songs, with the added bonus of a 50-something voice choir and 2,500 strong congregation. Following a message on loving our neighbours, we walked back out onto the streets of Kampala, right past a man sitting on the corner of the parking lot. He sat with his wheelchair, crutches, and a pan. As usual, questions, concern, and a bit of frustration weighed down my thoughts...all compounded by the fact that this man was sitting right outside a church where those walking past had just listened to a sermon on loving their neighbour. Looking back towards him, and then looking towards the team I could tell that Simon had possibly similar thoughts running through his head.

"I can tell you're thinking," I said. "What about?"
"Same thing as you," he replied.

So, together, we walked over and sat with Xavier. Unfortunately, that was about the extent of our knowledge of Xavier as he was rather hard to understand. After our brief and disjointed conversation, Simon left some money in the pan and we walked back to our waiting van.

Much of the past few days has been spent trying to understand the desire to care that I feel when I meet the David's, the Justin's, the Xavier's. What is it about? There's a tension that happens between whether it is about them or about me. David still sleeps in the roundabout. Justin still walks several miles to his bed. Xavier will still sit at the corner of Buganda Road and the KPC parking lot. And I will return to my bed, my car, my job. I will return to a better life, as I understand 'better' to be. And I will leave David, Justin and Xavier behind.

Compassion is a fickle thing. Does God give a heart of compassion to change others, or to change the compassionate? Or is it both? Will David remember the white guy who gave no money, gave no food, took no pictures and asked questions? Will Justin? Xavier? Or are the stories I've heard, the poverty I've seen, the lives I've collided with in Uganda forever remain solely with me?

I still don't have the answers. Which in a way, is cool. Because I couldn't give any answers to the youth who was asking the questions. It's something she'll have to figure out as she discovers her own heart of compassion. All I could tell her is that all she could do -- and all she is called to do -- is walk alongside her friend. And it was in that reply that something profound struck a chord in my thoughts. That's really all Christ did. He didn't leave this world in perfect order. He didn't heal everybody. He had to leave behind the broken, the hurting, the lame, the deaf....

And he told us to walk with them in his place......

Many people use the excuse that there is too much pain and suffering in our world for there to be a God. God or not, pain and suffering will still exist. The choice remains ours.