Book review: Who Owns The World?

Who Owns The World? The Surprising Truth About Every Piece of Land on The Planet is an encyclopedic accounting of land ownership on our globe. It is packed with fascinating facts: Did you know that Queen Elizabeth owns 1/6th of all the land on earth? Did you know that the largest private landowner in the U.S. is Ted Turner, who owns 1,800,000 acres of land? (Yes, all those zeroes belong in that number.) Have you ever heard of the British Indian Ocean Territory, a land area of 14,720 acres which is now believed to be used as a prison for those captured in the war on terror?

Though most of the 369-page paperback is devoted to information about who controls every square inch of land, authors Kevin Cahill and Rob McMahon explain their purpose in putting this book together: 
This book asserts that the main cause of most remaining poverty in the world is an excess of landownership in too few hands. This book will also assert that private ownership of a very small amount on land - one-tenth of an urban acre or an acre or two of rural land - granted to every person on the planet has the potential to, and, I believe, begin ending poverty on a global basis. The book will go further and reassert that the right to the direct ownership of land is a fundamental human right.

After a 60-page introduction that unpacks these assertions, the remainder of the book surveys every country of the world, giving information about population, size, gross national income, percentage of land held by private owners, a line or two about the country's history, and an explanation of how the country is owned. 

The book doesn't offer solutions to the inequalities presented in the book (a handful of kings, queens, sheiks, religious institutions and individuals control most of the land on earth) or do much to tackle the dicey issues of political and/or ethnic identity that have shaped most modern nation-states. But then again, it isn't meant to do so. Who Owns The World? tells a compelling, unsettling story with stats, and is an interesting reference tool for students and those interested in international politics. 


Note: I received this book as a review copy.

I got the volunteer blues

I originally posted the basic content (below) during 2007 - and have tweaked it a bit for 2010.

I love to volunteer to help, to serve, to minister, to use the gifts God has given me to bless others. You'll note that the word "volunteer" is a verb in this sentence. 

 

I hate to be called a volunteer. Noun.

 

When I was on staff at a mid-sized evangelical church, we spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to fill slots on our org chart, especially in the children's ministry, cleaning and lawn mowing areas. Some of the other staffers used words like "recruit" and "volunteer" a lot. We brainstormed lots of creative ways to get people to do the grunt work of the church. (Of course, we never quite put it in those sorts of bald terms, but really, that's what it was.)

 

So what is it about the word "volunteer" that cranks me? 

 

First, though no one quite puts it like this, it seems to me that often "volunteers" are the blue-collar laborers, doing tasks assigned by the white-collar staff. Second, most of us know that there is certainly a lot more church social currency given to someone who can play a killer guitar solo than the person who mows the lawn. Though there are lots of good reasons for the former (and not a single valuable one for the second, but I digress), many churches of all sizes and flavors allow themselves to be defined by an institutional identity instead of adopting the organic identity of body that the Bible uses to describe Christ's followers. 

 

There is a kind of non-profit, community-service paradigm embedded in the word "volunteer". Scripture never uses this sort of image to describe the body of Christ. As a matter of fact, the idea of a volunteer kidney or tibia is beyond absurd. Yet, many church leaders insist on calling the grunts "volunteers", as if this is a Scriptural truth, or a non-patronizing compliment.

Each one of does have a word that describes our ministry. It is the word priest. This is not a volunteer position. Our ministry of offering praise to God comes in the offerings we bring to him, and the way we serve others. This can mean watching poopy kids in the church nursery, singing on a worship team - or working at a food pantry with people from a variety of walks of life, or writing a book (!) or going the third mile at your workplace when no one except God sees your effort. 

 

I recently read another bloggers riff on this topic (I wish I could remember where; if my "from memory" summary triggers your remembrance, please let me know) and he noted that in his church, the paid staff recruits - and sometimes guilts - people into volunteering. These volunteers, he noted, are people who have full-time jobs and family responsibilities, and are being asked to give another chunk of time to support the vision and Bigger-Better-More career ambitions of the paid church staff.

Yes, some of these volunteers are people who are exercising their spiritual gifts. Others are participating because they want to be good team players, because they've been told that their service matters to the church and to God. (Which it does - but as an "in spite of" than a "because of" request for volunteers from the church leaders.)

 

As my wise husband noted, there was only one legit Volunteer in the history of the church: 

"Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross." - Phil. 2:6-8

Your thoughts? Am I being too sensitive about this word?

 

I need Thee every hour

Most gracious Lord;

No tender voice like Thine

Can peace afford.

I need Thee, oh, I need Thee;

every hour I need Thee....

Please pray for health and safety for the beautiful people of Haiti - and for wisdom for those organizing rescue and relief (and eventually, rebuilding) operations in the country.

And give what you can, to a charity or ministry you know is trustworthy.

Come, Lord Jesus

A friend asked me if I wanted to join her at a night of corporate worship at a church a decade ago in a nearby town. My friend and I were "church nomads" at that point, and we both missed the dynamic of gathering with others to worship. Neither of us knew anyone at the church, and I think we both expected a couple of hours of singing. The end.

As we walked into the church building, there was a palpable, nearly overwhelming sense of the nearness of God. This sense of simultaneous exposure and welcome staggered us both. The crowd was buzzing with excitement about the things God had been doing among them. People were being delivered from secret addictions; there were substantiated reports of physical healings; there was a heightened expectancy that the kingdom was really at hand. It wasn't an abstract concept. It was, in this time and place, a tangible reality.

When the music started that night, the "liturgy" was a loose structure - there was a sense of willingness to cede the stage and set aside the carefully-planned, rehearsed program if the Spirit moved in an off-program way. There was a plea in every note the gathered crowd sang - "Come, Lord Jesus!" And He did. Oh, how He did.

A decade later, I look back and I remember that season in my life with gratitude.

And I wonder...why is what I experienced ten years ago so rare in so many of our churches? Your thoughts?

Strange place to plant a family tree

Open the Gospel of Luke, right there in chapter one and begin reading. The physician-scribe throws us right into the middle of the action first with the warm-up of the dramatic events surrounding the birth of John the Baptist and then the history-splitting incarnation of the Lord Jesus. Luke has penned a real page-turner!

A hinge of sorts happens in chapter 3, as the cousins come together in the river. Jesus asks John to baptize him, and eternity invades finite space and time:

"When all the people were being baptized, Jesus was baptized too. And as he was praying, heaven was opened and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased." - Luke 3:21-22

In this heart-stopping moment of theophany, the Father calls the son of Joseph His Son.

If you were writing this story, where would you go from this eternity-soaked moment?

Luke makes what has always seemed to me to be a peculiar choice. He hits a pause button on the advancing action and recounts Joseph's geneaology all the way back to Adam. The placement of this information has always felt a little random, as if Luke thought, "Oh man, before I get into the next chapter of Jesus' ministry, I'd better insert some back story."

(I know, I know. They didn't even have words for modern literary conventions like 'back story' in Luke's day.)

At the moment the Father affirmed Jesus as His beloved Son, Luke is directed by God as he scrawled his inspired narrative to turn his gaze on Jesus' earthly father, Joseph. I know these family trees are vitally important. But the placement of this particular one has been a puzzlement to me.

Today when I read it, a 7-volt lightbulb tried to light up in my head. Luke opens this geneology with these words: "Now Jesus himself was about thirty years old when he began his ministry. He was the son, so it was thought, of Joseph..." (vs. 23)

"So it was thought" - a phrase meant to remind us that Joseph wasn't Jesus' biological father - and then immediately Luke launches into Joseph's family history. The history links Jesus in a mirrored similarity to the genealogy of Mary recorded in the first chapter of Matthew. Joseph's history shows that he is of the family of the chosen people, and prophetically linked to his great-, great-, great- (etc.) grandpa King David and to Abraham before him. He is the right man to shape the Child's life, to tuck him in at night, to teach him to swing a hammer, to live the Shema together.

However, the placement of Joseph's genealogy here ends with an echo of the words heard at the baptism of Jesus. Listen to the final few names in the list:
"...the son of Enosh, the son of Seth, the son of Adam, the son of God." (vs. 38)
Though this is Joseph's genealogy, it seems intentional that the terminus of the family tree brings us back to those words: The Son of God.

It is as if Luke is placing Jesus in context of being God's divine Son and reminding us of his humanity as the son raised by Joseph before allowing those words to send us with Jesus into His ministry.

Do you have any insights to add?

Boundaries or brick walls?

My husband and I had visited a church a few times, and invited the pastor and his wife over for a meal after having some pleasant post-service chat with them both. We told them we were looking forward to learning more about the church as well as enjoying a relaxing evening of conversation.

It was fun to swap child-rearing and ministry adventure stories with them. We'd travelled some similar roads, and we shared a lot of laughter through the evening. But as the evening was drawing to a close, the pastor's mood shifted. He cleared his throat a bit, and said something to the effect of, "Well, you know from your own ministry experiences how dangerous it can be to develop friendships with those in your congregation. We've learned the wisdom of keeping a distance from those in our church."

At the time, I didn't think much about it. We ended up becoming a part of the small congregation. But as the months wore on, I found myself wondering why we really couldn't seem to develop any friendships with the people there. The church was full of pleasant enough people who had little capacity or interest in developing relationships beyond the shallow pleasantries of safe Sunday morning chat.

For months, I wondered if the lack of relational connection at the church was because there was something wrong with me. "Maybe I'm too __(fill in the blank with your choice of a negative character trait)", I'd tell myself. I'd beat myself up because I assumed it was my own unhealed hurts that were driving people away.

And then I started hearing the same complaint from a few others. One woman told me, "I've been attending here for several years, and I don't really know anyone here. I don't know who I'd call or even ask for prayer if I had a problem." The church was full of lonely, isolated people who'd bought into the culture of self-preservation created by the church's leader. I reflected back on the pastor's comments at our one and only meal shared with him, and I realized that unhealed hurts from this pastor's past negative ministry/relational experiences had shaped the emotional life of the church.

I understand the necessity and wisdom of leaders having thoughtfully-crafted boundaries. But those boundaries must be formed by prayerful decision, not wall-building reaction to wounds of the past. The church had tried various community-shaping small groups and efforts over the years, but these initiatives bore little fruit. As the pastor stood unengaged, outside and above these efforts, the congregation reflected his ambivalence. Though he was leading them to do these relational programs, what he was really teaching them was that they needed to protect themselves from one another.

Leaders, how do you balance the need for boundaries with the need to build meaningful relationships?
Congregation members, how does the culture of your church encourage meaningful relationships?

Note: I've had to add a "moderate comments" feature to this blog because I was getting weird autospam comments in Korean and Japanese on here. But please do leave your thoughts - I'd love to hear from you!

2009: Black Belt in klutziness

The week between Christmas and New Years is filled with all manner of "Year In Review" lists. Biggest news stories, worst movies, best books, that sort of thing.

My own 2009 list is a little more...uh...specific. When I think of this year, the list that's easiest for me to make is that I managed to experience regular doses of high degree klutziness in almost every arena:

(1) February - Got lost alone in Jerusalem, wandering like an Altzheimer's patient for nearly an hour while trying to find someone to give me directions en Ingles.
(2) March - Epic fail, Facebook edition. Hit "reply" with an emotional response to a friend's message before I realized it was being sent to many, many people - not just to the friend.
(3) May - Jerusalem again, the klutziness manifested itself when I rolled my ankle in a gutter in the Old City and ended up sprawled on the stone streets. The sprain took nearly 2 months to heal.
(4) July - As I approached my dreaded 50th birthday, I decided to go proactive and invite some friends to breakfast to thank them for sticking with me in spite of my klutzy ways. Learned later I'd hurt someone from my past by not inviting her to the gathering.
(5) October - Took dog out for my caregiving client. The dog sensed a sub, and bolted as I was reaching for the leash. I ended up flat on my face in a pile of wet leaves and dog poo. Bruises galore.
(6) Throughout the year - My dad always used to say that what was on my mind was on my mouth. This year, some of what was on my mind was the hydrogen perioxide + baking soda combo of wanting to sell this house and/or connect beyond shallow coffee hour chat with a passionate spiritual community. At regular intervals, my mouth erupted this brew of concerns all over innocent bystanders. Awkward to the nth degree.

The great gift of middle age is that I know I am not alone in these klutzy moments, though, as my very patient husband notes, I do have a knack for sharing my best klutzy moments with others. They are growing pains, the messy moments of a not-yet-formed piece of clay in the hands of the Master Potter.

And so, if you, too have had a year of Black Belt Klutziness, join me in the prophet Isaiah's surrender to God:

"Yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. Do not be angry beyond measure, O LORD; do not remember our sins forever. Oh, look upon us, we pray, for we are all your people." - Is. 64:8-9

As we look ahead to calendar year 2010, may all of us klutzes rejoice that we are safe in God's gracious hands. Happy New Year!

A look at the people Jesus loves - Part 4

Click here to read Part 1, here for Part 2 and here for Part 3 of this series.
At this time of year, the focus is on the Baby. If you focus on the incarnation long enough, you might also find yourself drawn to meditate on the Child's future - and your own. The longing and waiting that characterize this season have more to do with the mystery of the end of all things than most of us see at first glance. The trees and tinsel obscure a clear view. But if we take the time to look, we can see glimpses of the love story. Here are the people Jesus loves:

“I say, ‘give me clarity’, you say, ‘will you marry me?’ With all due respect, Jesus, I don’t think you were cut out for religion.” – Jude Simpson

The Bible begins with images of a type of wedding – that of Adam and Eve. It ends with images of a wedding (see Revelation 21-22). The Bible leaves us with a very different picture of the church than the way most of us skeptics have known her:

I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." – Rev. 21:2-4
This “New Jerusalem” is the entire community of believers from across the earth who have remained faithful to God to the end, through life’s temptations, hellish trials and his cleansing discipline. Like a pure, innocent, trusting bride longing for her wedding day, the deepest desire within each person in this community is for intimate relationship with the Son.

This powerful imagery is found in Paul’s instructions to husbands and wives (Ephesians 5:22-32). Paul tells husbands they’re to love their wives well in order to most fully express a deeper reality: “…just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless” (vs.25-27).

It is beyond my comprehension how God can transform the church from a weary, jaded and frequently unfaithful renegade with a kaleidoscope of personalities and addictions into a pure, innocent partner with eyes only for the Son. But that is Scripture’s story. The author of that story tells us that he sees something in the church that we don’t see in ourselves.

And though it is usually not a pretty picture, every once in a while, if I press my nose up against the glass, I think I can catch a glimpse of who the church will be…
…in the victorious spirit in the eyes of a Chinese Christians who has been imprisoned for his faith
…in the simplicity of a child reaching for my hand and asking to pray
…in the words “I’m sorry. Will you please forgive me?”
…in a piece of artwork that prisms eternity into my soul
…in an ancient hymn sung by a stranger at the bedside of a dying 82 year-old woman in a filthy, forgotten nursing home
…on Sunday morning when a tangible, bigger-than-us desire for God invites His presence among a desperate congregation
…in a conversation with a friend

Jesus loves you. May this reality permeate your worship this week as you experience the longing that no gift-wrapped box can ever satisfy.

A look at the people Jesus loves - Part 3

Click here to read Part 1 , and here to read Part 2.

Jesus began his ministry with a very audacious-sounding statement of purpose torn right from the sacred scrolls before him:

He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. And he stood up to read. The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written: "The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him, and he began by saying to them, "Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing." (Luke 4:16-21)

The four gospel accounts tell us what this ministry looked like:

• He touched untouchables, laying his hands on a man whose rotting body had been ravaged by leprosy (Matthew 8:2-4, Luke 17:11-17)
• He exercised authority over demons that left their victims mentally and spiritually imprisoned and unable to function in society (Matthew 8:28-33, Matthew 17:18-14, Mark 7:26-30)
• He fed the hungry (Matthew 13:13-21, Matthew 15:29-38)
• He embraced those without importance or moral worth in their society – children (Matthew 19:13-14), widows (Mark 12:41-43, Luke 7:11-15), prostitutes (Luke 7:36-50), adulterers (John 8:1-11), tax collectors (Matthew 9:9-12), the disabled (Matthew 9:27-34)
• He healed sick people (dozens of examples in the gospels), and raised Lazarus from the dead (John 11)
• He taught spiritual revolution, not religion throughout his ministry (captured in concentrated form in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7)
• He always told the truth about sin no matter who his audience was
• After being executed for crimes he didn’t commit, he rose from the dead (Matthew 28, Mark 16, Luke 24, John 20)

These supernatural stories about Jesus show us how he related to spiritual outsiders.

The grace-gifts of healing and deliverance that marked Jesus’ ministry were meant to be signs of and invitations to this kingdom he described in story (parable) and sermon. The miracles weren’t Jesus’ ultimate goal, but an expression of the lifeblood and currency of his kingdom – God’s compassion. Though throngs of people gravitated to him for the amazing gifts he gave them, Jesus’ purpose in giving these gifts was to reconnect people to the Giver of these gifts. Right living before God, Jesus asserted, would flow out of a grateful, connected life. This was wildly different than the righteousness-from-the-outside-in fenced lives of the Pharisees and other religious elites, or the capricious spirituality of the Roman culture’s pagan gods.

Jesus said as much when he stated, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners” (Matthew 9:12-13).

Sick people. Sinners. And spiritual outsiders in need of compassion, not religion.

Religion condemns. Compassion marches right into the mess and touches, heals and transforms.

This is how Jesus loves us, if only we can expose our brokenness to Him.

A look at the people Jesus loves - Part 2

Click here to read part one of the series.

Jesus and religious insiders

The Pharisees' motto: We do life right! You don’t!
Color in the lines.

Drive 55 miles per hour.

Obey the rules.

Be an Eagle Scout. President of the Student Council. And while you’re at it, prom queen.

It feels good to be good. But it feels even better to have people recognize how good you are.

The Pharisees began as a renewal movement within Judaism. These were people who took God seriously. They wanted it to do their lives right. They believed that they had the rulebooks that would allow them to do their lives right:

They had rules, and then they had fences around the rules with more rules posted on them. The rule-posted fences were meant to keep people far, far away from ever violating God’s rules. After all, if you broke a rule posted on the fence, that violation (and its consequences) would keep you away from sinning big time by breaking the Laws prescribed by the Almighty Himself in the first five books of the Bible.

The Pharisees rose to prominence in the troubled centuries prior to Jesus’ birth. Though they were relatively few in number, they were the taste-makers and influencers in their society, defining what a holy life looked like. They were initially a lay-led renewal movement, but a handful of them became a part of the Jewish power structure in first century Roman society.

Professor and author Dr. Scot McKnight describes the Pharisees as “a Torah movement (group) deeply devoted to knowing, interpreting, and applying the whole Torah to the life of Israel in order to restore the fortunes of Israel.”

Jesus referenced the righteous rep of the Pharisees early in His ministry, noting that their belief system told an important piece of his story:

"Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. I tell you the truth, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished. Anyone who breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.” – Matt. 5:17-20

Winning the Moral Life Competition with the Pharisees wasn’t Jesus’ goal for himself or anyone else. In fact, Jesus focused his ministry on interacting with spiritual outsiders, and unbending the pretzel logic that kept people away from the God the Pharisees claimed to represent to the rest of society. Many of these revered teachers of the Law turned out to be very poor students when it came to examining their own motivations.

Jesus’ most critical words were targeted at these “righteous” men who were cruel, cold and loveless. He demonstrated that this arrogant, self-satisfied form of religiosity had the kind of consequences that people had normally associated only with the behavior of extortionist tax collectors and world-weary hookers.

Though Jesus consistently showed and told the Pharisees that they were nothing more than “whited sepulchres” (a Bible way of saying that they were like rotting corpses in designer packaging), his interactions with them were always characterized by his desire for them to lose their dependence on their religious performance, and to humbly turn to God himself.

And a few of them actually did. Nicodemus, who was a member of the Jewish ruling council and a Pharisee, came to see Jesus one night. Many commentators have pointed out that the timing of this man’s visit says a lot about what was motivating him at this point. Nicodemus used the cover of the night to cloak his solo visit to Jesus. John 3 records their famous nocturnal conversation. Nicodemus queries Jesus about what he and his Pharisee posse have seen Jesus doing, and then asks Jesus to explain what he means when he tells Nicodemus that he must be born again.

Though Nicodemus isn’t mentioned again in the Gospels until after Jesus’ death (see John 19:38-42), it’s interesting to note that Nicodemus paid for the 75 pounds of spices that would be used to ready Jesus’ body for proper Jewish burial. He and another man named Joseph of Arimathea took the body and placed it an unused garden tomb.

The two men expected to return after the Sabbath to finish the burial preparations. It says something about Nicodemus’ changing values that he was willing to become ritually unclean by handling a dead body – compounding his sin in the eyes of the Pharisees by doing these acts for someone the Pharisees had long-ago branded as an enemy of the Law.

To be continued...

A look at the people Jesus loves - Part 1

We focus on a little Baby during this season. That little Baby came to us on a mission of love: "...the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost." (Luke 19:10)

I've had the opportunity to meditate deeply on just who it is that Jesus loves. Today is part one of a series that explores this topic. Read on. Some of these thoughts may surprise you:

When a graffiti artist is responsible for the writing on the wall

In recent years, there’s been a mini-torrent of books with very provocative titles written by young evangelicals:

• Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality
• My Faith So Far: A Story of Conversion and Confusion
• Plastic Jesus: Exposing the Hollowness of Comfortable Christianity
• Jesus Has Left The Building
• Tired of do-list Christianity?
• They Like Jesus But Not The Church

Evangelicals aren’t the only ones expressing this kind of spiritual fatigue. Throughout Christendom, these sorts of sentiments are the anthem of those who are tired of institutionalized religion that rewards hypocrisy, wounds the hurting, and insists that serving the purposes of their particular organization is the best (or only!) way to serve God.

The organized church didn’t woo me to faith in Christ when I was a teen. Other than a couple of visits to church services (including one memorable Midnight Mass when my very drunk friend puked all over my coat), I had little exposure to the church prior to my "conversion". What happened first in my life was seeking and being found by Jesus. Participation in church life came much, much later. That particular order of events continues to be a push back for some of the negative things I’ve experienced when it comes to the church. It’s kept me from getting completely consumed by bitterness by all the weirdness I've witnessed in the church...

...Especially when I’m honest with myself, and remember that I’m a part of the church. Gulp. Even though I want to be different more than anything, the truth is that I’ve screwed up and hurt people in some of the same dumb ways I’ve been wounded by the church. Even though I don’t want to be a part of the problem, I am part of the problem.

My perspective changes when I crouch next to Jesus so I can try to see what he sees when he looks at the church. His church. It’s not too hard to know that there’s anger and sorrow at the dunderheaded, piggish and even evil done so frequently and by so many in his name. I understand that this anger and sorrow aren’t meant to crush and shame, but to redeem and transform.

The thing is, it’s not all anger and sorrow in his eyes when he looks at his church. The Bible explains that he perceives something else there in her – something pure and true, beyond the ick - and he sees it with the unblinking certainty of someone who already knows the end of her story.

(to be continued)

Book review: Start-Up Nation

We climbed into a cab in Jerusalem early one morning and after asking where we were headed, our driver launched into an impassioned monologue about the wrong-headed thinking of some low-level bureaucrat to send the street cleaners off to work at 8 a.m. on a work day.

"They should be cleaning the streets in the middle of the night," he yelled. "They don't know what they're doing in this government. They're doing this street clenaing all wrong!"

I chalked his insistent tirade up to the chutzpah that permeates Israeli society. But Dan Senor and Saul Singer, the authors of Start-Up Nation: The Story of Israel's Economic Miracle, would see his insistence on voicing a better way to do things as key to what has made this 61-year old state become a major player on the world economic stage. Israel has more companies on the NASDAQ than all of Europe, Korea, Japan, Singapore, China and India COMBINED.

Senor and Singer explore the unique culture created by persecution, mandatory military service, the melting pot of immigration, lack of shame for business failures, cross-pollination of ideas and people, and the urgent need to learn how to survive when surrounded (and occasionally attacked) by enemies. Israel's business successes seem nonsensical - impossible, even. Start-up Nation explores the cultural, educational, social, emotional, and commercial factors that have allowed this beleagured nation to bloom in the desert. One small beef: the authors omitted the place of faith in the mix in their study of Israeli business/culture. Because faith is foundational to Israeli existence, even secular Jews are shaped by the faith culture all around them.

This highly readable, well-researched 300-page hardcover book should be mandatory reading for anyone involved in a non-profit organization or for-profit business. It is possible to foster a culture of innovation within an organization if those in charge have the chutzpah to flatten hierarchy and fight institutionalism. Recommended.

*Note: I received this book as a review copy from the publisher.

What happens in Vegas...

...stays in Vegas.

Clever ad slogan. The guts of it apply to lots of things.

During the times I experienced intense church conflict in the past, the battles were weighted in my mind with what was eternally important: theological big stuff like the proper way to preach about repentance were freighted with far more spiritual gravitas than the absurd power struggle over the placement of bulletin boards in the foyer.

That was, perhaps, my first mistake. I didn't realize that everything carried the imprint of eternity. In ways I am just beginning to understand, it was all spiritual. Even those blankety-blank bulletin boards. I learned too late just how important the trivial could become when power was at stake - and how many theological Big Issues aren't about theology at all, but about winning instead of love.

It was the news last week of the passing of one of our former pastors that reminded me afresh that church politics net both winners and losers alike the same prize - a great big nothing. This world shrinks as we're dying, and all the pointless power battles over preaching or bulletin boards stays here. Earthbound, temporary, eternally pointless. There is no eternal value in winning a round of church politics. The prize - the win - stays here, a shriveled, dusty plastic trophy. Trash.

The truth of this old saw holds: "We've only one life, `twill soon be past. Only what's done for Christ will last."

Love, the air and langauge of the kingdom, lasts.

Book review: The Bible As Improv

I heard Dr. Ron Martoia speak last month at the Story Chicago conference (I mentioned him in #12 of my blog post about the event here). I happened to receive an advanced reader copy of Martoia's new book a couple of days after the conference, and was really looking forward to reading it after hearing his talk.

The Bible As Improv: Seeing & Living the Script in New Ways (Zondervan, scheduled to release in March, 2010) did not disappoint. He tackles the way most of us have learned to read and interpret the Bible, and suggests that our "Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth" cherry-pick-life-principles approach doesn't lead us or our churches to spiritual maturity. The chapter on Faith and Human Development is the hinge on which the book turns; Martoia gives an overview of James Fowler's stages of faith development in order to demonstrate what many of us have suspected all along - spiritual growth isn't a tidy upward continuum.

"I realized the Bible wasn't bringing life change to me and other the way I thought it should," Martoia writes. "In my journey toward a deeper grappling with how the Bible is supposed to work in my life, I underwent a dramatic shift in my view of how we develop as people of faith." The struggle and revelation changed not only the way he pastored, but the kinds of questions he asked of the Bible. He uses some powerful, memorable metaphors to encourage us to learn to improvise on the text and to read/discern as communities of faith. The content of The Bible As Improv was an helpful complement to Scot McKnight's Blue Parakeet (not surprising, since Martoia studied with McKnight when both were at Trinity International University).

The book's message may jar and annoy some conservative evangelicals, but I believe it's a valuable contribution to the discussion of how we can engage the text and live into God's Story.

Together In One Place

I've heard of church and community leaders coming together in the wake of a crisis (weather, violent crime) to serve and to pray. And I've heard of pastors coming together in small groups to encourage one another. Crisis or ministry affinity often brings together believers from different backgrounds and church traditions.

But yesterday's Catalyst Forum brought over 350 church and community leaders from Lake County, IL (and beyond) together for a time of spiritual refreshment and relationship-building. No crisis necessary; no other affinity point beyond the beautiful name of Jesus Christ. It was remarkable to see people from their 20's through their 70's, men and women, many ethnic groups, all together under one roof praying, laughing, worshipping, learning, eating and talking. A good number of the churches represented have come together in recent years to do all sorts of service projects in the county; others gather for prayer. But the Catalyst Forum is a unique opportunity for all sorts of Christ-following people to simply gather.

I had a wonderful "ah ha!" moment as I stood near the gym doors yesterday watching the people stream in to grab a slice of Lou Malnati's and some salad. The Lord brought a simple phrase to mind:

"When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them." - Acts: 2:1-4

They were all together in one place.

Christ's followers had been gathering to wait for the promise of the Father, as Jesus had instructed them to do. If you continue reading Acts 2, you'll see the immediate, supernatural, multi-national, multi-ethnic, explosive effect of this baptism. The church grew from 120 to 3000 in a single day.

Their obedience and their longing for Him brought them together in one place, positioning them to receive. They had no context to imagine what this promised baptism might look like, when it would come, or what would happen as a result. But they all kept showing up, these 120 people, waiting and wondering together, until Pentecost (Shavuot), the Jewish celebration of firstfruits, became a whole new event.

They were all together in one place.

This little phrase will change the way I pray for revival in Lake County. This "together in one place" thing is the first step that positions us to receive what only God can give. "Together in one place" is can be a physical act that demonstrates our individual humility and hunger for Him.

May this deeper reality saturate these "together in one place" gatherings in this county.

Mirror, mirror

‘I thank you, God, that I am not a sinner like everyone else. For I don’t cheat, I don’t sin, and I don’t commit adultery. I’m certainly not like that tax collector! I fast twice a week, and I give you a tenth of my income.’ - Matthew 18:11-12 NLT

It is oh, so obvious that the religious expert who prayed that prayer is miles off from understanding himself rightly, isn't it? I revel in Jesus' contrast of this man's prayer with the prayer of the tax collector.

It occurred to me today that this self-classification I'm tempted to do when I read this story puts me in grave risk of the Pharisee's error. "I am broken, like the second guy," I tell myself in a somber voice befitting my sense of deep humility. "I'm not like that self-righteous Pharisee".

Um...really?

And just how do I assess this? Well, I am tempted to run a sort of nutty quiz in my head, like this:

(Check one)
Do I pray like that Pharisee? Yes ___ No___

Do I dress like that Pharisee? Yes___ No___

Do I perform like that Pharisee? Yes___ No___

(Fill in the blank) Who do I know who is like that Pharisee? ________

(Essay question) Why am I a better, truer and more faithful Christian than this person? __________

And that unvoiced, arrogant self-assessment completely erases my awareness of my own brokenness, and renders meaningless the rending of my garments as I sorrow over my sinfulness.

"I thank God that I'm not narrow-minded like ____"
"I thank God that I'm not open-minded like ____"
"I thank God that I don't do _____ behavior"
"I thank God that I do _______ behavior"

Ugh. This parable today was a magnifying mirror. I engage in these sorts of comparisons, all the while convincing myself that I am not a Pharisee when I do.

God have mercy on me, a sinner.

Come to the table (Part 2)

Read part one here.

True fiction for church leaders
Part 2:

The board put the PR machine in high gear – the machine Jeff had painstakingly assembled in the name of Excellent Communication – to massage the message they’d be giving the congregation about Jeff’s impending departure. Frank made sure Jeff understood that his generous severance package was tied to Jeff’s flawless performance of the leaving rituals they’d choreographed for him to execute.

“We’d prefer to tell the congregation that you and Joanna believe God is calling you both at this time in your lives to step out in faith and explore some new ministry opportunities,” Frank said.

Instead of what, Jeff wondered. The truth? That he’d been forced out?

“You’ve gone a lot recently, traveling and speaking at other churches, anyway,” Frank continued. “We want to minimize any disruption to the church life here. If you think you can handle it, we’ll call you up front so you can make a brief announcement at the end of each service this weekend. We’ll want to see the text of what you’re going to say before then. You understand.”

Jeff already knew the answer, but had to hear Frank say it. “Who’s going to preach this Sunday?”

He saw a muscle twitch in Frank’s jaw. “Chris, of course. The board is praying he’ll accept the call to become our next senior pastor.”

Oh, he’ll accept it, Jeff thought. It’s what that Judas has been working toward since I brought him here as my associate 4 years ago.

* * * * * * *

“How could they do this to me?”

Joanna was standing at the doorway of the kitchen. He hadn’t heard her come in, but she’d obviously heard his voice. “Jeff?”

He turned to face her.

“I’ve felt the same way for a long time,” she said slowly, taking a couple of steps into the room. “Years, maybe. I hated the way things were the last few years when it seemed like everyone was turning against you. Against us. I am glad our kids are gone, living on their own out of this town. Going through this would have been unbearable for them.”
He nodded. He’d had the same thought hundreds of times.

“How was your morning?” he asked.

She shrugged off her coat, tossing it over the back of a kitchen chair. Joanna had been attending a church in a town about 45 minutes from their home the last couple of months, hoping the ritual would help her heal in relative anonymity. He’d tried visiting with her, but after their second visit, he told her it was excruciating for him to sit like an uncooked pot roast in the pew, watching the show.

All he could think about were the endless meetings he and his staffers had to “produce a quality Sunday morning experience” for the people filling the padded chairs in his own…former…church each weekend. He, of course, was the main course, tasked with crafting a clever and relevant message the people would talk about with their co-workers on Monday mornings – evangelizing them with the gospel of “come to our church”. Jeff now wondered if maybe all he and the staff had been doing was repackaging little bits of the Bible into 100-calorie snack packets. “You can go if you want,” he’d told Joanna. “I need some time. Can’t handle it right now.”

He hadn’t noticed until she sat down heavily at the kitchen table that Joanna’s face was blotched and swollen and her eyes were red. “Fine. Not fine,” she said. “You know what, Jeff? You ask how they could do this to you? These last few months, I’d been asking God why he let them get away with it. I wondered why they seemed to thrive after they betrayed us the way they did,” she said.

“You used the past tense, JoJo. ‘Been asking.’ Like it’s over.”

“A lot of bad stuff has happened to us, Jeff. But I’m beginning to think we’re not just victims in this.”

He straddled the chair across the table from her. “How can you say that? After the way they screwed us…”

“I’ve been listening to people interact before and after the church service these last few weeks. No one really knows me, and it’s a great big church. I just listen…” She swallowed hard. “I hear too many of their conversations focused on the same things we’ve been consumed with the last few years. The building, the staff, the programs. I hear constant striving for position, and endless silly politics. Such a waste…”

Hackles raised, Jeff leaned across the table. “What are you saying? That none of anything we’ve done had any value? That we’ve wasted our time in ministry?”

Her voice broke. “I wanted to yell at them: All of you people want the same things we wanted at…at…” She paused, reaching for the right word. “From…our old church. They all want the same things we wanted. Frank, Chris, the rest of them... I think we’ve wasted a lot of energy trying to get something from other people that didn’t belong to any of us in the first place.” She nestled her face into her folded arms on the table and wept quietly.

The truth in her words flicked lightly across his pain like a whip, goading him…where? Jeff wanted to scream “You’re wrong! They did this to us!” but tried…and failed…to form a less-visceral response. The protest inside of him slowly dissipated until finally, his soul fell silent as he sat at the kitchen table with her, the only sound, the steady ticking of the kitchen clock.

Come to the table

If you've ever been involved in church leadership, the following work of fiction might read like a true story...

(Part 1)

Jeff was parked in his ancient recliner, wearing a shapeless pair of gray sweats and an “In It To Win It” T-Shirt. Sections of the morning’s super-size paper surrounded his chair, forming a moat of newsprint. Jeff stared at the tube as the Sunday morning talking heads debate the president’s latest economic stimulus package, each insisting they just wanted to help the American people.

At the commercial break, Jeff hit the remote. He loathed the suffocating silence in the house, but couldn’t listen to one more syllable of political grandstanding this morning. The true addiction of those rarin’-to-go pols and wonks on camera, and their sycophants pimping off-camera? A thousand meetings, alliances and brokered deals in order to score the addictive emotional cocaine of power.

“They call what they do ‘helping people’, but if any of that happens, it’s only after they’ve gotten their ego fix,” Jeff mumbled out loud. He walked into the kitchen, dumping the remains of his lukewarm coffee into the sink and fishing the last blueberry Pop-Tart out of an almost-empty box. He ate it cold while continuing impassioned sermon to his canine congregation of one.

“Man, they all use each other. They use people and spit them out when they’ve outlived their usefulness or have the misfortune of choosing the wrong allies.”

Like he had.

He tossed the dog the last bit of his untoasted toaster pastry, and the same weary incomplete thoughts crawled around the rutted track the betrayal had made around the perimeter of his mind.

He mumbled the only prayer he’d been able to say in weeks: “How could they do this to me?”

* * * * * * *

Frank’s emotionless visage told Jeff everything he needed to know when he walked into that conference room eight months ago. Frank was going to keep this cordial and businesslike, just as Jeff had always coached him to be through the years two had tackled management issues in their organization.

“You probably have some idea what this meeting is about,” Frank said.

Jeff nodded. After weeks of sensing he was about to get axed, and months before that of losing one workplace political battle after another – this, after years where everything he touched turned to gold – Jeff had steeled himself for the inevitable.

Almost robotically, Frank began his carefully-rehearsed speech, acknowledging Jeff’s years of faithful service, and how Jeff had been instrumental in building the amazing organization around them, and how difficult the decision had been, and just how sorry the entire board was to see things end this way.

“We want to make sure you’re taken care of,” Frank said, pushing a stack of papers toward him from across the conference room table. “We put together a generous package that will give you and Joanna time to figure out what’s next for the two of you. We’re grateful for your years of service to us.”

As Frank wrapped up his speech, Jeff noticed the muffled soundtrack of office activity humming in the background. He could hear the sound of the copier running. Two phones ringing. Though it was after 4 PM, the outer offices were still half-full of employees laughing, talking, finishing up their work day. Jeff had been involved in hiring each one.

And now, he was being dumped like a bad blind date. Frank had just fired him from the church he and Joanna had started in their living room 14 years earlier.

(to be continued...)

Story reprise

Slices of StoryChicago:

1. "Weakness brings liberation. Confession transforms" - Dave Gibbons
2. "Propositions will not save you." - Chris Seay
3. Note to self: Get that Frederick Buechner book already (Telling The Truth: Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy and Fairy Tale) since it keeps coming up in conversation.
4. "We censor our stories when we only talk about our success." - Mike Foster
5. A drumline is a great way to announce the beginning of a session.
6. "'Be the person God designed you to be'. I don't know what that means!" - Donald Miller
7. Musicians, story characters, communications people in a sea of macs and iphones.
8. Won a copy of Skye Jethani's Divine Commodity - and missed picking it up from under some seat at the Paramount Theater, the site of day 1 of the event because I couldn't access twitter that day. More on twitter for day two.
9. "Instructional method of preaching is a failure. It does not challenge people's perceptions of reality." - The Guy Who Wrote The Book I Won And Didn't Pick Up.
10. "The cross tells the story creation never could." - Thomas Fluharty
11. "Being convincing is salesmanship. Being compelling means people are drawn to you." - Kevin Sterner
12. "How did you get here from there?" Me, to Ron Martoia, after hearing him talk today and realizing he attended Trinity in the mid-90's.
13. My twitter account got hacked midway through day 2 of the conference. Spam Me sent my 261 followers some garbage link. I nearly cried when I saw what had happened.
14. "We dwell in the truth. We don't try to get it in deadlock." - Ben Arment
15. I would have welcomed a few more opportunities experience others' stories (short video vignettes of slice-of-life stories, artwork, a wall with graffittied praises, stories from other cultures?) as part of the mix.
16. It was a typical evangelical conference. And it wasn't anything like a typical conference. Mostly the latter! Thank you, Lord, for allowing me to be there. Help me to use what I've learned, seen, felt to encourage others and honor You.
17. Grateful, grateful, grateful.

The fact that I could list so many quotes from the event (above) should tell you how much I enjoyed the event. I rarely take notes anywhere I go, but I took notes for two whole days. I didn't even take two whole days of notes during two years of full-time college.

Listen to the Quiet - and contest info!

Listen to the Quiet

---

I love the sound of a house full of kids. (Well, most of the time, anyway!) As my children neared adulthood, I wondered how I'd handle the echoing silence of an empty nest.

Perhaps "wondered" is too mild a word. I feared the silence. I was mourning the end of my active parenting years, to be sure, but the truth was that my dread was deeply rooted in some painful early experiences with loneliness. That loneliness resulted in unwelcome, unwanted silence. I honesty didn't believe there could be any other kind of silence.

During this time, I had the opportunity to go on my first guided, mostly-silent retreat. I was simultaneously introduced to the delight of extended meditation on a single passage of Scripture. As I embraced the spiritual discipline of solitude, God brought me face-to-face with some of the familiar old hurts that had previously motivated me to avoid silence at all costs. I discovered that silence does not equal loneliness. It can be rich with God's presence.

The psalmist sang these familiar words from the heart of God to each of us used to tuning our lives to the cacophony around us: "Be still, and know that I am God!" (Ps. 46:10) To paraphrase His imperative invitation: "Shhh...come, listen to the quiet so you can more fully experience and respond to who He is."

Over the last few weeks, several people in my life have remarked that they'd welcome an opportunity to participate in a "mostly silent" retreat. As a result, I'd like to know if there are others living in the Chicago-Milwaukee area interested in gathering for a "Listen to the Quiet" 24-hour retreat either February 26-27 or March 5-6, 2010. Location (probably at a retreat space somewhere in S.E. Wisconsin) is yet to be determined. Cost including 3 meals, will likely run in the $60-70 range. A "mostly silent" retreat means there will be time at the beginning and end for prayer, worship and fellowship, but that the core of your time will be spent in silence shaped by a bit of devotional instruction on how to enter into your time of quiet with the Lord.

If you're interested in participating in the "Listen to the Quiet" retreat - or simply knowing more as plans are finalized - please e-mail me (mishvl@yahoo.com) no later than Saturday, November 14.

---

Your opportunity to win!

This fall, two different projects to which I contributed have released. The first is a gift devotional for women entitled Quiet Reflections of Hope (Baker/Revell). This simple, thoughtful volume offers busy women a bit of focused time with the Lord each morning. The second is the beautiful Holy Bible: Mosaic (Tyndale). This gorgeous Bible offers writings and artwork from believers from every century and continent. You can read more about this Bible here.

I'd like to send one reader two copies of Quiet Reflections of Hope, and one reader two copies of Holy Bible: Mosaic. Each winner will have one volume to keep and one to share with a friend. (Or, if you're feeling especially generous, two copies to give away!) Simply e-mail me at mishvl@yahoo.com before Saturday, November 14 with the subject line "Drawing". Please include your mailing address in your e-mail.

Review: Can God Be Trusted?

With a title like Can God Be Trusted? (FaithWords/Hachette), I imagined the content of Father Thomas Williams' book could be summed up in four words: Yes. So do it. The plain white cover of the hardcover volume didn't do much to convince me that the book was going to be anything more than a restatement of those four words for 206 long pages.

My first impressions were wrong. Williams, a professor of theology at Regina Apostolorum Pontifical University in Rome and a Vatican analyst for CBS News, offers a gentle, accessible and thorough exploration of the nature of trust in this volume. Penned for a popular audience, Williams tackles topics including the downside of distrust, God's rivals for our trust, what to do when God lets you down, and God's trust in us. Williams explains, "...we are not called to diminish our desires, but to enlarge them. In the end, we need to be more audacious with God, not less. We need to think big, bigger than we ever have before. Strange as it may seem, we always expect too little of God, and never too much."

I struggle to trust God and other people. My once-childlike trust in God has been enclosed in thick layers of callouses in order to protect myself from further hurt. Williams' kind, encouraging pastoral voice and an approach that was both intelligent and simple had a healing effect on me as I read. Can God Be Trusted? is a very worthwhile read for anyone who is weary of the weight of their own callouses. Recommended.

(Note: This review copy was provided me by the publisher.)

Three Days (1, 2, 3) re-post

The series below was originally posted in early July of this year, but one of the posts has been hacked, so I'm reposting the set of three here and deleting the original series.

Enjoy a fresh perspective on this Scriptural account.

THREE DAYS
(part 1)
After the rumored resurrection of Jesus son of Joseph, the strange little sect known as The Way had experienced a stunning resurgence across Jerusalem.

This.
could.
not.
continue.

The city's elders dragged Stephen, one of the group's ringleaders, outside the city gates to execute the Law's justice with hurled stones, then seized the moment to finish off this wrong Way once and for all. They launched fiery, ambitious young proteges on a mission to root out every single follower of the heretic rabbi, convinced that these mostly fringe people posed a Defcon 5 threat to more than a thousand years of Jewish faith and tradition.

A young Saul made a name for himself as a dedicated member of the A-team, ferreting out followers of Jesus in the city and bodily dragging them to jail. And then, the ultimate company boy asked for extra credit homework from no less than the Big Kahuna himself, the High Priest: letters he could carry a week's journey to Damascus to the synagogues there, explaining his mission, enlisting help so he could continue his Rambo-like campaign to ferret out the both male and female rats that had scattered from Jerusalem.

Damascus was near when out of a quiet blue sky a white hot-bright ball of light enveloped him - an explosion. He fell to the ground, a mortally-wounded soldier. In the confusion, a rumble carrying echoes of a roar. Saul writhed like a newborn baby exposed to the elements for the first time. Flat on his back on the hard-packed road, he stared directly into the high noon sun without blinking, and whispered "Who are you, Lord?"

The contingent with him stepped back in fear and confusion, the sound of thunder piercing the cloudless sky. When he staggered to his feet a few moments later, he waved his arms wildly looking for balance but finding none. One of his companions rushed to Saul's side. Saul grabbed onto him, steadying himself. His pupils were as wide as platters.

But he couldn't see a thing.

(part 2)
The contingent headed toward Damascus was now without its general. It wasn't just his sudden blindness after the disorienting encounter on the road from Jerusalem that drained the burning bile from Saul's leadership. It was the Voice he heard in the flash and thunder: "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?"

The Voice knew his name. The Voice knew what he'd done.

"Who are you, Lord?" he whispered. Those on the road with him could taste the fear in Saul's words. If there was an answer given, it was drowned in the sudden downpour of thunder enveloping their visionary leader.

And then, it was over. All was silent. Dazed, Saul staggered to his feet, and rubbed at his eyes. Then he rubbed harder, stumbling in sloppy circles until he bumped into one of his terrified traveling companions. Saul grabbed the man's cloak in his mid-day darkness. "Did you hear what He said to me? Did you hear?"

Saul had been a heat-seeking missile, bent on eradicating the cult of Jesus from his beloved Damascus as a demonstration of his fealty to all-important religious elites in Jerusalem. And now, after the storm, He told his companions He'd spoken with Jesus. The blind man stood weeping in the middle of the road, hands raised in surrender.

What?

Fragments of confused, angry diagnoses now spilled into the silence after the storm from the others: "Demon", "Fever", "Heatstroke", "Spy". The chaos built around the weeping Saul like another storm until he was able to pull himself together enough to speak. "We're going to Damascus. He told me to go there and wait for further instructions."

The rest of the group shook their heads in disagreement. But there was no where else to go at this point of the journey except to Damascus. Two of them reluctantly reached to take Saul's hands...

(part 3)
There were a few chaotic moments when the head rabbi of the synagogue in Damascus walked into the courtyard to greet his guests from Jerusalem. A dozen voices tossed a confused confetti of words into the air, recounting the sudden ambush of their spiritual general, Saul.

"He was attacked by a demon," some yelled. The adrenalized frenzy of their near-miss with a representative of the netherworld filled the air.

"There must be some hidden sin in his life," others cried. One young man tore at his garment in grief over the idea that his battalion leader had fallen.

Saul stood silent, his unblinking stare fixed beyond them at the setting sun. The military man had been rendered a dove, placid after his initial confusion on the road. He listened now, a habit he'd not cultivated to this point in his life. He'd lost track of time in his new darkness, but recognized the song the birds began to sing at the end of day's light. The prayer he'd prayed at least three times a day for as long as he could remember surfaced in his soul, a breath. A heartbeat.

"Oh Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare Your praise..." He paused, his companion's cacophony swirling around him. He closed his mouth, his silence a prayer.

The voices of his companions and the rabbi calmed suddenly, as the group began to recite the same prayer he'd begun. He listened mutely, and as soon as the group had sung their final amen, their voices stayed low as they began to murmur together. A plan was being formulated on his behalf.

"We're going to have you rest here for a few days, friend." A voice with a Damascus accent was speaking to him as if he was an idiot. "We'll send for a doctor, and my wife will prepare you foods that will restore your strength. Perhaps this is temporary..."

Saul shook his head. "Thank you for your kindness. I will try to rest, but I will not eat. I must wait and pray for what will come next." Because something would come next. He could not imagine what...or when. Though he couldn't see, what he wanted above all was to hear the forgiveness and fire of that Voice again.

They led him into a secluded room in a far corner of the house. The next 72 hours were a blur of the religious elites of Damascus coming and going, praying and chattering and diagnosing and gossiping. The news of Saul's affliction spread like wildfire through the Jewish community in Damascus. Those who'd accompanied Saul from Jerusalem put their mission on hold while they debated about how to proceed from this point forward. Saul was useless to them, what with his seeming capitulation to the other side and his refusal to take even a single sip of water by the third day of his fast. He still looked like a man on a mission...but now it had all the marks of a suicide mission.

Prayer in his darkness, hunger and thirst focusing Saul's insistent imprecations until his body began to pull in on itself, his brain fogging from dehydration by the end of the third day. The darkness wasn't just outside of him. It was inside of him. It had always been so, but he'd called his darkness light and insisted it was good.

He was too dry to weep.

He couldn't go back to the life before the flash and the Voice. And he couldn't go forward until he heard the Voice again. Of that, he was sure. Even if he perished before the Voice spoke to him, he knew he'd hear the Voice for eternity, sitting at the right hand of the Father.

Anaias of Damascus, Christ-follower, marched into the lion's den after the Lord spoke to him in a vision, asking him to to do so. Empowered by the Voice, he strode up to the still figure with the vacant stare laying on a pallet in the corner of the rabbi's house. Ananias spoke with authority to this man who'd been sent to the city to punish him and all the other followers of The Way just like him.

Placing his hands on Saul, he said, "Brother Saul, the Lord—Jesus, who appeared to you on the road as you were coming here—has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit." Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul's eyes, and he could see again. He got up and was baptized, and after taking some food, he regained his strength. (Acts 9:17-19)

After a lifetime that lasted three days, Saul could see. And simultaneously, his hearing was 20/20. The Voice had come once again to him. Saul's interior was immersed in Him, forgiveness rushing into his soul as if a dam had broken.

A resurrection of a dead Man after three days - the parallel to his own experience from flash to filling could never be captured in human language. But the Voice expressed it with a single Name: Jesus.

Review: Return Policy

Michael Snyder's Return Policy (Zondervan) follows the stories of three people who'd never typically connect with one another, much less change each other's lives: Wally, a burned-out, grieving novelist; Ozena, a single mom of a special needs child and customer service rep; and Shaq, a homeless man with a serious case of post-traumatic stress disorder. An unseen Hand much more powerful than the pain these ordinary people carry brings the three lives together in order to craft healing from each one's loss.

Snyder allows each character to tell his or her story by writing each one's narrative in the first person. He does an admirable job giving each one a distinct voice, though many readers may find it challenging to keep changing gears at the start of each short chapter. I found myself reviewing ("What did Ozena say about this the last time she had a chapter in this story?") in order to make sense of what I was reading. There are moments where the book feels like a point-of-view exercise in a creative writing workshop, particularly in the first half of the novel, but the surprising beauty of the story overcomes those moments with something more lingering: a portrait of the restoration that is possible after tragedy shatters a life.

Until death do us part

It was the 1970's, and as a refection of the times, we wrote our own vows for our wedding. I have copies of what we promised each other that warm Sunday afternoon, but for the life of me, I can't remember a syllable of what either of us vowed that day. It is a good thing that God remembers not only our words, but the intent of our hearts.

After 30 years together, Bill and I both agree that the classic vow captures every facet of what it means to be married:
"...to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part."

We had a wonderful anniversary celebration: We went to dinner the night of our anniversary to Allegauer's Fireside, the place where our combo wedding/reception was held. The next day, we headed to the beautiful Castle In The Country for a couple of days of pampering and celebration.

I am a grateful woman. I have been married to my best friend for 30 years - and will continue to walk side-by-side with him, serving the Lord, until death do us part.

Fire from heaven

"As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem. And he sent messengers on ahead, who went into a Samaritan village to get things ready for him; but the people there did not welcome him, because he was heading for Jerusalem. When the disciples James and John saw this, they asked, "Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?" (Luke 9:51-55)

They'd not only seen Jesus do miracles, they'd done them in His name as well. immediately prior to this journey toward Jerusalem, James and John had witnessed the transfiguration. They'd been living as citizens of the kingdom of heaven.

But they held two passports, dual citizenship. As these Jewish men passed into Samaritan territory, the habits and prejudices they carried deep in their own DNA surfaced in a flash, triggered by the Samaritans' deep-seated prejudice against them. The offense sparked a militant response from James and John, Jewish citizens, and they grabbed for the big guns from the armory of their other kingdom.

Which showed, perhaps, that they didn't truly understand the power of that other kingdom at all.

Jesus demonstrated the way His kingdom's weapons are meant to be used. ^"...Jesus turned and rebuked them, and they went to another village." (Luke 9:55-56)

That's it. They left without a fight. The village remained a no-smoking zone. In fact, the only lit match may have been found in the rebuke Jesus gave His followers - He corrected them with the kind of fire meant to purify motives and quench impulsive response. The walk to the next village was a prophetic review: Turn the other cheek. Go another mile.

Walk on, friends.

Review: A Million Miles In A Thousand Years

When I first began working at the Trinity Bookstore in 2004, Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz had been out for a few months and was just beginning to catch on via the best advertising of all, positive word-of-mouth. I grabbed it off the shelf, read it, lovedlovedloved it, and foisted it on all sorts of unsuspecting customers and fellow staffers. Miller's irreverently reverent, messy journey and distinctive writing voice resonated with me.

It resonated with hundreds of thousands of others. The book was an evangelical publishing phenomenon, and turned Miller into a Name. His follow-up releases (including a revision of a book he'd penned prior to writing Blue Like Jazz) were good, but never quite captured the evangelical cultural ennui of his big breakout book.

It was only a matter of time before someone, somewhere decided to obtain movie rights to Miller's seminal spiritual memoir. Blue Like Jazz was a series of colorful episodes strung together like mismatched beads. In fact, the book's subtitle is "Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality"; not exactly a recipe for a movie plot. But the people who optioned the film rights sent a couple of writers to work with Miller to pull story out of "nonreligious thoughts". His new book, A Million Miles In A Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life, tells the story of what happened to him during this process.

I kind of expected this book to be a self-indulgent exercise, to be frank. Come on - a book about turning a best seller about your life into a movie about your life? I wondered if Miller's writing career and/or ego had jumped the shark.

Though there are whiffs of self-indulgence here and there, they are mercifully faint. What is here is a valuable first-person exploration of the components of story as Miller was learning and living them. A Million Miles In A Thousand Years is an enjoyable read for anyone involved in storying: pastors, writers, teachers, visual communicators. It provides a few ah-ha! moments about the elements of story applied to life from the pen of a really good writer who is willing, once again, to tell his own story to all of us.

Day of atonement prayer request

The holiest day of the Jewish calendar, Yom Kippur, begins at sundown tonight. (You can read God's prescribed order for the day here.) On the tenth day of the seventh month, the high priest would disappear behind the curtain leading into the Holy of Holies to intercede for his people. Only on this day each year could the priest come before God on behalf of a repentant people to seek absolution of the previous year's sins against Him and one another.

I remember the shock I felt this first time I read this. Please join me in praying that others of my people will hear the sound of the torn curtain as they seek God this Yom Kippur.