recent wrestlings

I moved in August of last year for many reasons, but a large interest of mine was to experience the thoughts and spirituality (the way a people lives life with God) of people outside of the "Bible Belt". Needless to say, experience it I have done. It is no lie that we do theology in the midst of a context, the context unquestionably shapes our theology and therefore the way we live in relation to God. Be aware, I'm about to use some sweeping generalizations in an effort to illustrate a point.

If there are a few things I have noticed it's that the Church in California demands tolerance (for the sake of the gospel, no less), while Texas is still leery of it, if not demanding the opposite (for the sake of the gospel, of course). Speaking of that, I once heard a preacher quote G.K Chesterton, who said, "tolerance is the virtue of a man without conviction." How do you read it? Try that on a pregnant teenager walking down Lake avenue who got kicked out of her house and has no place to go. A warm bath and wise counsel would be more appropriate than exercised conviction. California screams environmentalism as the crux of the gospel, Texas is starting to think it's sorta cool, but rejects global warming (due to the sovereignty of God?). The Church in California pushes hard for ethnic diversity (and even pushes those who are trying hard to experience it) , while the Church in Texas may think it's more practical to worship with those who we are most alike (although, most folks my age can all speak boldly about how we WANT to be in an ethnically diverse community). The same social gospel that tore the offense of Cross out of the message of Christ is alive and well in California, but it still hits the deaf ear of most Texas churches (unless they have a nice program or home group that heads up that "need")...I might have hit every church stereotype there is on that one...except the one where we all keep saying "evangelicalism" but none of us have a clue what that means anymore...

My highlighting these issues isn't to pull the rug out from under any "perspective" (as if I have enough wisdom, clout, or desire to do so anyhow), but hopefully to be a voice of concern that nods respectfully to both and then carries on in angst for unity and for Christ. My goal in writing today is to recognize the tension that should exist in these things, and therefore let that tension call us all to be changed by the gospel. I meet a lot of students at Fuller who have no idea what it is to be disciplined in anything relating to God (because that's religion and God hates it?). I meet a lot of people here at Fuller whose speech is no different from mine when I was in high school. How on earth does that happen? However, I have friends here whose hearts are so compassionate and missional they they would creep up on Mother Teresa if she wasn't looking. There are women (and men) at Fuller who make the "role of women" sermon look ridiculous (yes, that sermon), not by argumentation, but by lifestyle. Please quote Ephesians 5. I did. See what I mean about context? Why would one be comfortable with a woman as a lead pastor, when they have never seen one before? On the other hand, I had friends at Dallas who knew more Scripture than I ever will, because they knew what it is to be disciplined in study and faithful in devotion. I had professors at Dallas who think drinking is sinful, but they cried like a baby in class because they longed so much for people to know Jesus! I think that's beautiful. How do you read it? Context shapes ones hermeneutic and God reigns over both.

A brilliant man said it like this: we all approach Scripture with our -ism (feminism, conservatism, liberalism, environmentalism, etc.), the challenge is whether we are allowing Scripture to inform our -ism or our -ism to inform Scripture. We all have basic convictions that won't change, but we also have a lot of "middle things" that we would benefit from changing if we could just put on someone else's shoes for a moment...

So whether California or Texas, God uses both. Whether conservative or liberal, God uses both. Whether complementarian or egalitarian, God uses both. If there is one thing that I have experienced in my schooling both at Dallas and at Fuller, it's that wherever I am in faith, I see only one side of the ball. I don't think it means that we are always wrong, but perhaps it means that God is bigger. Perhaps it means we can only see dimly, so why pretend we see a lot? For the Texan in me, there is a strong yearning to be like Lot in a land like Sodom (a disciplined life); but the Californian in me calls me to run with passion for justice in world (a life of social concern). Perhaps the Spirit urges and provides room for both to dialogue and change. Oh that Christ would come sharply into focus and tangibly into this messy masterpiece he calls the Church. I pray that we know more of Christ and less of most other things.

Justice
I, like Ahaz, fear.
I meet you at the upper pool,
But leave your wisdom where I found it.

The justice you desire
I leave in my pocket next to my keys.
I leave it there almost reaching for it, but never actually doing it.
I leave it there in my prayers too.
Every now and then my heart stirs to exercise it,
But my will always chooses safety over risk, wealth over poverty, keeping over giving, and silence over words.
Indeed, “in my fast I seek my own pleasure, and oppress your people.”
How, with these words do I live?

I read your words of restoration and judgment.
Oh how convenient my constant restoration
And, how coincidental my unfamiliarity with judgment.
I know restoration like my name,
I know judgment like I know hunger.
Perhaps Ahaz knew at least some guilt?
I simmer guilt and conviction until they smell like righteousness,
And then, I serve them to friends as appetizers,
Instead of giving them the real me.
I wouldn’t know the difficulty of homelessness,
Because I’ve always had a home.
I wouldn’t know the pain of hunger,
Because I’ve always known gluttony.
I wouldn’t know the challenge of orphans to fit in,
Because I’ve always been accepted.

Father, you may be screaming judgments,
But I’m so convinced that you love me
I can’t imagine discipline.

Mission
The word in itself is confused.
Misunderstood, misused.
We make it all about the food,
Or all about conversion.
Neither satisfy you.
Some bend human necks toward your truth out of fear.
Others do so out of anger.
A few do so out of love.

A pretty check mark soothes my conscience
As I sign my name on the line,
As I put the letter in the mail.
Now I can forget it ‘til next month.
Praise God.

We can breath better if we create programs,
Instead of engendering a universal urge to care.
“Let a few do it.”
“It’s not my gift.”
“We have needs here, too.”
Ignorance prevents compelling.
Pride prevents understanding.
It’s at the heart of You with other things.
It’s not just near it.

Restoration
Muddy, filthy, tired, worn.
Cold, gloomy, bitter, voiceless.

I’m tired from screaming.
Freezing from the cold rain. Wet.
Left alone in the darkness to fend for myself.
I’ve climbed and walked and ran for years.
I’ve worn these same shoes and walked every kind of road.
I’ve searched for this place that my father talked about, but haven’t found it.

You speak of vineyards and built houses.
You speak of age-old trees.
You speak of wolves and lambs together.
I don’t see it. All I see is my own misery.
Clean, sharp, rested, new.
Warm, bright, sweet, boisterous.

I’m renewed from fighting.
The corner that you found me in is a memory. I’m dry.
I’m no longer alone, but in a coffee shop with community.
The climbing and walking and running isn’t over, but it’s not alone.
The shoes I wear are often traded with friends so the roads seem shorter.
You found me in my giving up, you found in my fathers prayers.

I see your planting vineyards and building houses.
I can imagine the joy of living as old as trees.
I can pray for the playing of wolves and lambs.
I trust it. I see you in the struggle.

Oh man. If you had just seen what I just saw, depending on who you are, you may have cried tears of joy. I'm sitting here at Bean Town (a local coffee shop here in Sierra Madre, CA) just thinking about stuff. I look up to find the most gentle looking old man truckin' along with a sweet flannel shirt, light blue jeans (complete with the slightly tilted, massive, wallet impression from years of wear), super old fishing hat, black SAS shoes, and most importantly; he was smiling so big. It was beautiful, not because he was old, or because he looked cool, or even because he was smiling, but because he was holding hands with what had to be his little grandson. The little one was awesome in his own right. He had the normal little kid outfit on (small jeans, small t-shirt), but topped it off with a baseball cap (probably his grandad's) that was way too big for him. They were just walkin' along, enjoying the day! I smiled for so long; and thought, "what a beautiful picture." I enjoy majestic mountain views, and sunsets at the beach. I enjoy a good chocolate chip cookie with cold milk and talking until really late with friends who would die for me (and I, them). I love my family and I enjoy watching people work at something they are gifted at doing. But, I'll tell you, there is something holy about that old man walking hand-in-hand with his grandson.

I couldn't quite put my finger on WHY I thought it was holy. So, as a good Christian should, I looked through Ecclesiastes (and found only negative things...which I really enjoyed) and then Proverbs...and I found it! As only wisdom literature can do, Solomon put my untrained, wordless urging into words nicely, "Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the glory of children is their fathers (Proverbs 17.6)." That man was smiling, because he was wearing a crown! It wasn't an unmerited crown, it was earned through years of trial and victory, blood and tears. That old man probably sat in a little school house with a real mean teacher; and that old man probably fought in Korea or World War II. That old man knows adversity and failure, he probably knows hunger, and he most certainly knows work. He's familiar with cars, but probably only up until they all ran by computers. He probably ran track when he was in grade school, back when they were made of dirt, not rubber. He probably snuck out and got drunk with his friends, and he's probably caught his share of small-mouth bass since then. His hands used to be strong, and he used to be taller, but life has worn him down. He still smiles though! He raised children, and probably messed up a lot in doing so. But, now his kids are raising kids. What a gift. What a crown! That old man walked old-hand-in-young-hand with that little boy, and both were smiling because God created humanity for relationship and when it functions it's beautiful. It's better than a sunset on the beach or a mountain view.

That little boy (Lord willing) has a lot of life ahead of him. He'll have trials and he will probably learn failure. He will get made fun of and he'll figure out what he's good at. He may learn to fish or he may learn more about computers. He probably won't fight in a war like his grandfather, and most likely his hands won't be as hard and calloused as his grandfather's are. He may not grow up to be familiar with blatant racism or how to use a sickle to cut grass, but he might grow up to raise children of his own, and one day he might get to wear a crown like his granddad. My hope is that one day he too will walk by a stranger holding his grandson's hand, smiling.

As you can gather from the title, there is a question I feel I need to pose. When we sit or stand in our neat little rows in the church house every few Sundays, is it the Lord's Supper that we are taking part in? Or is it more of a ritual we feel we do justice to, but don't have the wherewithal to change for the sake of practicality? I have taken a few days to process thru this question, and have come to a semi-concrete response. Yes and No. Typical seminary answer to hard questions. Before I respond I want to confirm that I believe the Lord's Supper to be a valuable and blessed sacrament in within the Church body, but I think we can do better than "chiclet gum" sized bread and just enough Welch's to bother your taste buds.

1 Corinthians 11 is what prompted the question. In this text Paul speaks not only about women(mainly) head coverings, which is a rather weak argument compared to his other statements throughout the letter, and also speaks about the Lord's Supper to close out this series of thoughts. We know from the construction of Paul's arguments throughout the letter that he is responding to both oral and written reports or letters from the congregation (1.11, 5.1, etc). He begins chapter 5, 7, 8, 12, and 16 with this phrase "now concerning" which leads us to attribute these topics to a question or topic within a letter that the Corinthians wrote to Paul earlier. So there is history between the congregation and Paul, as he defines himself as their founder and even their father (4.15). Why then does he rail them for mistreating the Lord's Supper? I mean he is pretty angry about their botching this "ceremony".

We can tell from the text that there are divisions in the community, most likely along socio-economic lines. Chapter 3 and 6 attest to the divisions, and Chapter 8 shows us the disparities in both maturity and economics. Economics because it is the rich who would be faced more often with this dilemma of choosing to eat meat that was sacrificed to idols. The poor are most likely from a pagan background and would have most likely had a strong opposition to the eating of meat sold in the markets, because it is closely associated with idols and cultic traditions. The rich are used to it and perhaps find no fault in eating it, as the see rightly that it (meat) is neutral in regards to their salvation.

From this background Paul chastises, most likely the wealthy or "strong"(8.1-12), because of their eating before other "late comers" arrive so that they cannot share what they have brought with each other. This leaves some hungry (v.21, 34) and others full, and drunk (v.24). The whole of Paul's argument in the entire letter is unity and submission to one another. Every nook and cranny is filled with Paul's cry for these two attributes to be displayed in community. Many think that everybody brought what they had to the gathering every Sunday, which met in a more wealthy person's house (perhaps Chloe), so the Lord's Supper looked more like a Pot Luck than a mini waffer or chiclet. The meal would have been opened with a common gathering, that might not have allowed everyone to sit together. This might mean that the late comers or poorer Corinthians would have been pushed to the outside of the gathering. This doesn't line up at all with Paul's hope for unity in the community. The Supper would start with the "breaking of bread" (literally) and then would be followed by possibly a Pot Luck style dinner and then followed by "drinking of the cup" and then prayer, drinking, and worship may end the gathering. Paul's vision in for the Lord's Supper is in verse 33, "So then, my brothers, when you come together to eat, wait for one another!" Paul doesn't shy from disclosing his thoughts about some dying because of their neglect of this practice that has through church history become a sacrament.

My question is regarding not whether we should practice the Lord's Supper, but how? When we gather on Sundays, communion seems to be done corporately, but experienced individually. We make sure the silver platters are shined, and the cups are filled, but where is the meal? Most object, well it's not practical to feed congregations of our size. Then, shouldn't we do some thinking about that. Some voice that we don't have the same issues that Paul addresses in chapter 11. I agree, but perhaps we SHOULD. I think that statement is a sad state of the church, not merely a different one. Why isn't there more poor folk in the church? We are dressed to the heels, and can easily remove the poor from our thoughts, because we take care of them with another ministry. Perhaps our "examining of ourselves"(v.28) before the Lord's Supper ought to provoke thoughts of provision for others in our community more so than it should be about "getting right" and then identifying with the cross of Christ.

I remember verse 30 being preached to me once, and I was afraid because I was so sinful and I was about to eat some bread and drink some grape juice. I really was nervous. I didn't want God to kill me because of some unconfessed sin! Can I contend that the examining of ourselves regards our neighbor's welfare and not our personal sin. Can I contend that our taking of the Lord's Supper might serve us in function more, if it took place downstairs in the mess hall or in lifegroups at someone's home. Can I contend that the Lord's Supper doesn't have to be a waffer and mini cup. Could it be that the grape juice may even be a bit of sticky legalism. Most of all, Paul's hope for the Lord's Supper is a gathering of believers to "proclaim the Lord's death until he comes"(v.26) and he doesn't think the Corinthians or the church today can do that too well if our friends next to us are hungry. It's not about the meal, it's about sharing in Christ as brothers and sisters. And if this is the case, then how do we do that together with a chiclet of bread and some grape juice? Is this the Lord's Supper? It can be I suppose, but can't we remember Him with a bit more than that?

well, at the request of wesley dorsett (fightin' texas aggie class of 2007?...whoooop. ha.) i will attempt to lay out my love for ihop in a way that is adequately expressed, but doesn't reveal too much of my lunacy. i began my love relationship with ihop (international house of pancakes) in college, and here ill lay out part one of my three part series.

IHOP OF COLLEGE STATION (pictured above)
now, in college, ihop was located at s. college and university, a prime spot for the folks who had a rough night at the bar and were attempting to knock the edge off, but it was also a short drive from my house, and a perfect walking distance from campus. silvia was the token waitress that soon became my friend. there were many nights of cheese sticks, samplers, dr. peppers, pancakes, even a cheeseburger or two, but mainly i stuck with coffee and water. coffee was the expected order when i sat down and was often brought without question. mikey and i handled more cheese sticks than was appropriate. sometimes silvia would tell the cooks that they burnt the sticks and bring us out two orders!!! holy crap. after a while there becomes this kind of connection that is founded on the people not the location or building. when silvia wasn't there, it wasn't quite home for me. i will interject there were several other waiters/waitresses at the college station ihop that made me smile, but none like my girl silvia.

but, before i dive into my friendship with silvia, can i pause and hop on a soap box? i want to say first that i am talking at myself as much as you! i am in no way close to perfection in this area, but i do think it's important and often over-looked. do you know which day of the week servers, across the board, hate working? sundays! why? because "all the church people come." i believe that to be an accurate paraphrase of a conversation that i had with some coworkers at saltgrass steakhouse, back in the day. may i just say, i think that is piss poor. my point is this...we shouldn't be perplexed when: our formulas for bringing people to christ don't work or when we find that our churches are stagnant or when we see a rise in mysticism or buddhism or islam. could it be that christianity suffers, because the "followers" of christ have a reputation that is nothing like the reputation of christ. when the server spills the drink we should pick it up, when the wait for a table is really long we should be the ones who wait with no complaining or rude comments, when the server screws up the order we should be the ones who affirm them with, "hey it's no big deal, you're doing fine." we can't expect great results from a faith that isn't exercised in the small ways and big ways alike. christians ought to be known for their kindness and generosity, not their rudeness and frugality.

back to silvia. she was great. by the end of our time together i knew so much about her, and vice versa. she would tell me things i didn't need to know and things that i did. she would tell me my outfit didn't match and which of my girl friends she thought i should date. she would go on and on about her kids and her grandkids. she carried pictures of them in her serving pad, and she would show the new ones to me every so often. silvia brought a lot of joy to my late night study sessions, not because of the free coffee and cheese sticks, but because i got to know a person and she got to know me. silvia's friendship changed my approach to how i treat people i don't know. when you take away the veil of, "hey take my order and get out of my way," a whole new world can open up. when we take the time to ask questions, be interested, and be known, we learn a lot about people, we learn a lot about ourselves, and more importantly we learn a lot about the heart of God. when we take the time to know people who don't even expect to be addressed with interest, we find out that everything is not about us. i think that being kind, open, and loving to people who don't expect you to be can be a step toward becoming like jesus; being jesus to your waiter is just one easy way that i think we neglect. it's funny that Jesus, while being God in the flesh didn't think equality with God something to be grasped, but considered himself nothing...it sucks that i often do.

Hey People/Person-
Sittin' here on my bed, supposed to be reading a book simply titled "The Gospels", but instead I am distracted by this fantastic CD from "The Everybodyfields", given to me by my really sweet boss, aimee. There is a song on the album labeled "Good to be Home" and indeed I thought of home. I always thought, "Man! I'm so excited to get out of this place, and go to Cali or Colorado or somewhere!" But really, while a nice walk on the pier or beach does temper the sting of missing home; it doesn't replace the familiar smells and faces.

I am having a great time here and meeting some really cool people that have life stories much different than mine, but there is something sweet and mysteriously enjoyable about sitting in a place you grew up sitting, or turning on a light switch you always used to turn on and still remembering that it's higher on the wall than all the other ones. There is something "right" about driving down my street and still remembering, right before I pull in the drive way, that you have to push the garage door opener button more to the left side for it to work on the first try. Does this make sense? Weird I know, but I think these kinds of things. I don't miss familiar things too bad, but it would be "good to be home" (and don't get all theological on me and say, "well, you're not really home, Jon." Spare me).

While I understand that Nocona, Texas is not my home the aforementioned folk song made me think of it. And, I would fight a huge guard dog right now for the chance to sit on the gate at my grandpa's old piece of land and just do nothing but sit. I would. Mikey (or Michael, as I now say, because he dates) and D.O. would say, "yeah right, it would kill you."...I digress. I would do a lot of things to visit my "G's" house, in Nocona, and just sit there with her while she recounts her latest run-ins and issues. These things I have come to cherish. I would enjoy sleeping over at my Aunt Sudie's house, because she hangs the sheets out before she puts them on the bed and it smells like country air when you sleep. I would enjoy the creaking of the floor when you walk on it, because the house was built sometime around the turn of the century. It is funny to me that I have never been around so many people, and I have never thought more of how much I enjoy the country life.

That's all I wanted to say tonight. So if you are reading this and you are from my home or Nocona; I do miss you and would like to see you. Lord willing, I could see you around Christmas time. If you ever get the urge to take a 1400 mile drive to the beach or mountains, I recommend you follow the urge. Why? Because Palm trees are pretty sweet and the sand feel nice between your toes, but mainly because change is nice.