I tend to like well-written summary statements that, although short, pack a lot of meaning. And I've been thinking about such a statement on the meaning of Christmas and this advent season. However, after spending some weeks thinking on the topic and reading scripture, I'm realizing that this season just can't be easily defined by one sentence.
Advent is a time both for thinking about the birth of Jesus and for thinking about his second coming. Here are the points that have struck me the greatest these past several weeks as I have reflected on different readings from the Bible:
-Christmas brings us Jesus, God in personal human form. While certainly there is a "Holy otherness" to God, Christmas reminds me of the surprisingly personal nature of God.
-Christmas reminds me that Jesus' life, from birth to death, was countercultural. Different from the secular culture in which he lived...."the greatest should be like the yougest," "the one who rules like the one who serves." His life was also counter to what the religious culture expected.
-Christmas reminds me that truth is real and that truth matters. And it also reminds me that truth is less about outward appearances and more about the heart.
-Christmas reminds me to live intentionally. I need to use my gifts and talents wisely.
-Christmas reminds me of hope. Even amid blatant wrong, a future hope is certain.
personal
countercultural
truth-grounded
intentional
hopeful
These are the faith-characteristics I am reminded of, challenged with, and inspired by this advent season.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Saturday, December 2, 2006
Advent
Advent begins tomorrow, historically also marking the beginning of the Christian calendar year.
Although the Church remembered Christ's birth and life in the weeks preceding Christmas early-on, Pope Gregory the Great (540-604) is often recognized as formally instituting advent. A former monk and ascetic, he influenced the direction of the Church in significant ways during a time when it was wrestling with how to remain an influence in society without becoming indistinguishably part of it.
So, why does my family practice advent?
Although the Church remembered Christ's birth and life in the weeks preceding Christmas early-on, Pope Gregory the Great (540-604) is often recognized as formally instituting advent. A former monk and ascetic, he influenced the direction of the Church in significant ways during a time when it was wrestling with how to remain an influence in society without becoming indistinguishably part of it.
So, why does my family practice advent?
- It reminds us that Christmas is more significant than the cultural hype surrounding it.
- It provides a richness and context to the season as we read verses from the Bible in preparation for Christmas.
- It connects us with a centuries-old Christian tradition that many before us have practiced.
This time of year, there are some decisions that don't matter much: will it be a fake tree or real? PS3 or X Box? Ipod or Zune? Wii? Turkey or ham?
The decision, however, to make this season more than just about presents and santa does matter. So, what is Christmas about? My personal challenge is, over these next four weeks, to reflect on that question.
It seems there are few things that could matter more.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
"Radical" faith
Is "radical" bad?
Many people, from my good friend at work, to others like Sam Harris decry "radicals" from any faith or religion. If you have not read it or heard it yet, you will. Muslims and evangelicals are frequently lumped together in these discussions. Take this real quote as an example, "the rabid elements of both christianity and islam aim to conquer and convert the planet."
And, when people talk like this--when they refer to "rabid elements," "radical christians," or "fanatics"--those terms are frequently (though certainly not always) describing what most people in search of a Biblical faith would agree with. My friend from work, and many others like him, if not anti-faith, seem to think that a faith in God that allows people to continue living the way they please is best. "Have your faith, but please don't bother me with it or question how I live," is a phrase that i can imagine my friend saying.
Is this person correct? "Best dialogues seem to be about how to make a tasty apple pie, or the best way to re-roof the porch. Vital but not world shattering." I want to say, "no way!"
In a very real sense, the best dialogues ARE world shattering. But, do I want to come across as a "fanatic"? Do I want to be, as Voice of the Martyrs proudly prints, a "Jesus Freak"?
Most certainly yes. And most certainly no.
Many people, from my good friend at work, to others like Sam Harris decry "radicals" from any faith or religion. If you have not read it or heard it yet, you will. Muslims and evangelicals are frequently lumped together in these discussions. Take this real quote as an example, "the rabid elements of both christianity and islam aim to conquer and convert the planet."
And, when people talk like this--when they refer to "rabid elements," "radical christians," or "fanatics"--those terms are frequently (though certainly not always) describing what most people in search of a Biblical faith would agree with. My friend from work, and many others like him, if not anti-faith, seem to think that a faith in God that allows people to continue living the way they please is best. "Have your faith, but please don't bother me with it or question how I live," is a phrase that i can imagine my friend saying.
Is this person correct? "Best dialogues seem to be about how to make a tasty apple pie, or the best way to re-roof the porch. Vital but not world shattering." I want to say, "no way!"
In a very real sense, the best dialogues ARE world shattering. But, do I want to come across as a "fanatic"? Do I want to be, as Voice of the Martyrs proudly prints, a "Jesus Freak"?
Most certainly yes. And most certainly no.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Showing grace
What do you do when you work with a person who you know (or at least suspect) has a similar faith in God as you yet acts and speaks in ways that frequently annoy you and others who work with them?
I had a conversation with this guy in my office last week that gave me a new appreciation for him and convicted me of how I've acted toward him (or thought of him) the past several years. In short, I came away from the conversation thinking that I needed to show more grace toward him, especially as a fellow believer.
I think a lot about how to show grace toward non-believers at work and elsewhere, and it strikes me that I sometimes am least gracious toward fellow believers. I imagine that both of our lives, and perhaps even the lives of those around us, would be positively impacted if I worked at showing him more grace, wherever our paths intersect.
This is my hope.
I had a conversation with this guy in my office last week that gave me a new appreciation for him and convicted me of how I've acted toward him (or thought of him) the past several years. In short, I came away from the conversation thinking that I needed to show more grace toward him, especially as a fellow believer.
I think a lot about how to show grace toward non-believers at work and elsewhere, and it strikes me that I sometimes am least gracious toward fellow believers. I imagine that both of our lives, and perhaps even the lives of those around us, would be positively impacted if I worked at showing him more grace, wherever our paths intersect.
This is my hope.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Politics and faith: going beyond
In the wake of the recent elections and all the post-election analysis that is happening, it’s hard for me to not say something. As Erwin Lutzer has asked in his book titled, “Why the Cross Can Do what Politics Can’t,” "when people see you, do they see Jesus?"
Why is it so easy to find prominent evangelical leaders speaking so negatively about the outcomes of the recent elections and tying their faith so closely to the Republical Party? Why do so many people of faith (evangelicals mostly) speak and act as if proper voting will solve America's problems? Note the recent comments of a well-respected evangelical leader:
"Citizenship is one of the major parts of our lives...and so we need to bring our faith to the public square in order to ensure that our children are taught our values, that the schools reflect our values, that the laws reflect our values. If we don't do that, then we're going to leave the governing of America to those who have a quite different vision of what they want this country to be. I think we lose our right to complain or dissent or object, if we're not part of the process."
Let me be clear that I agree voting is important. But, do I really have any ‘right’ to complain, dissent, object whether I vote or not? And, am I a citizen of America?
The easy answer to both questions is “yes.” But, I’ve come to the conclusion that there also are strong, and Biblically-based reasons, to think that the answers may both be, “no.” Sure, I have rights. But, do I have a ‘right’ to fight for my rights? And, sure I am a citizen of America. But, am I not also a stranger here? Is there not a real and important sense in which this country is not where I should call home? It seems true to my experience that the more we align ourselves with any particular political party, the more we risk communicating a faith that is not truly Biblical. Or, at the very least, communicating a faith that is unnecessarily exclusive.
The challenge to myself is to live a Biblical faith. Wrapping any particular political party around my faith is too easy and too simple—faith is not so black and white. Biblical faith is too rich, too unexpected, too counter-cultural, and too compelling to allow politics to speak for it.
Why is it so easy to find prominent evangelical leaders speaking so negatively about the outcomes of the recent elections and tying their faith so closely to the Republical Party? Why do so many people of faith (evangelicals mostly) speak and act as if proper voting will solve America's problems? Note the recent comments of a well-respected evangelical leader:
"Citizenship is one of the major parts of our lives...and so we need to bring our faith to the public square in order to ensure that our children are taught our values, that the schools reflect our values, that the laws reflect our values. If we don't do that, then we're going to leave the governing of America to those who have a quite different vision of what they want this country to be. I think we lose our right to complain or dissent or object, if we're not part of the process."
Let me be clear that I agree voting is important. But, do I really have any ‘right’ to complain, dissent, object whether I vote or not? And, am I a citizen of America?
The easy answer to both questions is “yes.” But, I’ve come to the conclusion that there also are strong, and Biblically-based reasons, to think that the answers may both be, “no.” Sure, I have rights. But, do I have a ‘right’ to fight for my rights? And, sure I am a citizen of America. But, am I not also a stranger here? Is there not a real and important sense in which this country is not where I should call home? It seems true to my experience that the more we align ourselves with any particular political party, the more we risk communicating a faith that is not truly Biblical. Or, at the very least, communicating a faith that is unnecessarily exclusive.
The challenge to myself is to live a Biblical faith. Wrapping any particular political party around my faith is too easy and too simple—faith is not so black and white. Biblical faith is too rich, too unexpected, too counter-cultural, and too compelling to allow politics to speak for it.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
In need of a richer message
How does one respond to articles like the main one in the November edition of Wired magazine whose cover reads, "Inside the crusade against religion." Or what about a response to the recent book titled, "Misquoting Jesus," a book that a friend from work asked me to read?
There certainly does seem to be a growing movement to attack faith in God--take the opening sentences of the Wired article: "They (these "new atheists") condemn not just belief in God, but respect for belief in God. Religion is not only wrong; it's evil." And later, quoting Sam Harris, "At some point, there is going to be enough pressure (within society) that it is just going to be too embarrassing to believe in God."
What do I do about these kinds of thoughts, attitudes, and words when I hear them? It's an honest question for which I don't have a great answer. I have long studied apologetics and ultimately find it wanting (as a convincing defense of faith). But, is there another way to think about answering questions about faith?
Roland Muller's book, Honor and Shame, is a compelling and enlightening book about how we communicate faith and how different cultures require different messages. And he writes how those of us with a Judeo-Christian cultural heritage think and talk about faith and the Bible in a very specific way--in a way that can often restrict a fuller appreciation of faith.
I think he is on to something, and it's a topic that fascinates me. How does my cultural history blind me to other ways of thinking and talking about faith? And how can an understanding of other cultures deepen my understanding of faith?
Those who attack faith as unreasonable or myth challenge me to live a new message--a message that communicates a richer and deeper faith than the one I too often am satisfied with.
There certainly does seem to be a growing movement to attack faith in God--take the opening sentences of the Wired article: "They (these "new atheists") condemn not just belief in God, but respect for belief in God. Religion is not only wrong; it's evil." And later, quoting Sam Harris, "At some point, there is going to be enough pressure (within society) that it is just going to be too embarrassing to believe in God."
What do I do about these kinds of thoughts, attitudes, and words when I hear them? It's an honest question for which I don't have a great answer. I have long studied apologetics and ultimately find it wanting (as a convincing defense of faith). But, is there another way to think about answering questions about faith?
Roland Muller's book, Honor and Shame, is a compelling and enlightening book about how we communicate faith and how different cultures require different messages. And he writes how those of us with a Judeo-Christian cultural heritage think and talk about faith and the Bible in a very specific way--in a way that can often restrict a fuller appreciation of faith.
I think he is on to something, and it's a topic that fascinates me. How does my cultural history blind me to other ways of thinking and talking about faith? And how can an understanding of other cultures deepen my understanding of faith?
Those who attack faith as unreasonable or myth challenge me to live a new message--a message that communicates a richer and deeper faith than the one I too often am satisfied with.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Entering the 21st century (why "intersection")
Finally coming into the 21st century (a few years late), I’ve decided to try my hand at blogging. I suppose the above quote, and the title which was inspired by it, defines the overall purpose of this site. Since reading Jim Elliot’s journal in college, the quote has always stood out to me. There is something about it which is inspiring and challenging. It attracts me to it, and causes me to want to ask the same that Jim asked of himself.
There are a number of specific themes that resonate with me—themes or issues for which I’d like to be that fork in the road when I come across them or when they come to me in my own life: faith in the workplace, politics and faith, culture and faith, the intelligence of faith. These are things I regularly struggle with/through, and I hope to use this space to simply reflect more on those issues.
In the end, I hope for myself, and for everyone who calls themselves a believer, that we will be more than just a simple, passing milepost along the road of life. Rather, let us be forks, intersections, where people are so compelled by the genuineness of what they see and hear that they simply cannot continue to think about faith in the same way they always have.
There are a number of specific themes that resonate with me—themes or issues for which I’d like to be that fork in the road when I come across them or when they come to me in my own life: faith in the workplace, politics and faith, culture and faith, the intelligence of faith. These are things I regularly struggle with/through, and I hope to use this space to simply reflect more on those issues.
In the end, I hope for myself, and for everyone who calls themselves a believer, that we will be more than just a simple, passing milepost along the road of life. Rather, let us be forks, intersections, where people are so compelled by the genuineness of what they see and hear that they simply cannot continue to think about faith in the same way they always have.
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