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What’s the matter with us?

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 20:03:00 +0000

A three-year-old named Marcus was found wandering the streets in an Ohio town and then quickly placed in foster care. Some time later, Marcus was found bound and gagged, wrapped in a blanket and dead in a closet. His foster parents decided to put him there when they left town for a few days to attend a family reunion. The temperature outside was in the 90’s. The temperature in the closet went well over 100. Marcus died in a closet, tied up like an animal. The flesh on his feet was blistered and torn from his struggle to get free… He was just three-years-old.

He was just a baby.

“A half-million children like Marcus are drifting through foster care, dependent on a system that too often fails to meet their needs. Blaming the current system will not fix it, and looking the other way is no longer an option. As long as there are children, there will be children who cannot depend on their parents to take care of them. As long as the government shoulders responsibility for their daily care, there will be children who suffer. Until the community steps forward to right the wrongs of vulnerable kids, their childhoods will vanish, along with our hope for a better future for all of our children…”

(from INVISIBLE KIDS, by Holly Schlaack)

Marcus’ family failed him. The foster system failed him. The community failed him. But more than half a million foster children like Marcus are still here… waiting to be given a chance at a childhood. We can’t fail them.

I live in Jefferson County, Alabama. In my city alone, there are more than 2,000 children in the foster system and less than 200 “approved” foster families willing to help.

How is this possible? What’s the matter with us?

On the Road With Don Miller

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 21:13:00 +0000

Greetings from the road. I am traveling with Don Miller on his “Million Miles” tour. We started off doing a dozen shows in a dozen days in a dozen cities (and 2 countries!). It felt like we traveled a million miles in the first fortnight.

I couldn't be happier. Well except that my dear husband Larry only got to come the first two weeks. And that my hometown show in Hollywood was hard. Wow, tough crowd. My friend Tony said I was terrific, I'm just being hard on myself. But they also say a prophet is not welcome in his/her own town. Portland was rough on Don. But he says it's because his mom was there. See?

The Million Miles Tour

Don is out promoting his new book, A Million Miles In A Thousand Years, and I’m the warm-up act. AKA the dangleberry. Opening for Don is like opening for U2. Don hates that analogy, but I offered to change it to, "it's like opening for Flock of Seagulls." So he relented.

Blue Like Jazz hit a nerve amongst younger Christians who didn’t fit in with their parents’ yuppie American Christianity; not to mention many Yuppie American Christian parents who finally realized the Yuppie American Christian Dream was a bucket of dookie.

I am not knocking honest, biblical Christianity; but rather the pretty, shiny Churchianity where all questions are answered, every conflict ends in an altar call, and y’all live your Best Life Now. Anyone else out there for whom that did not happen? Upside down on a bad mortgage? Out of work? Kids hate you? Spouse depressed? You depressed? Remember the catch-phrase, “God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life?” Wondering what kind of alternate universe in which this life is called “wonderful?”

That’s what both Don and I are talking about on the "Million Miles" tour. The big story that God calls you to live actually involves conflict, trauma, and soul-searing character change. Call it the “The Feel-Good, Escapist Tour of 2009." Before you go running for your Prozac, just have a listen.

My book, Angry Conversations With God, begins when I hit forty and found myself loveless, jobless, and living over a garage. When a friend said my relationship with God was like a marriage, I decided to take God to marriage counseling. Of course the God that showed up for counseling was my twisted version of the real God. Over time God did change – into the real God. And man, the real God read me the riot act: if this was a marriage, I had married Him for his money – for what I could get out of him. Psyche! I had to learn to love God for better or worse; for richer or poorer, for fun and for free. I did not go quietly. But in the end, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. All those disappointments and heartbreaks became the tools God used to mature me into someone who could recognize and enjoy all the good he really had for me.

Don’s book goes a step further. When filmmaker Steve Taylor approached Don to make a movie out of Blue Like Jazz, Steve said Don’s real life was too boring. Don and Steve went to Robert McKee’s story structure seminar and learned the basics of storytelling. Don had an epiphany in that seminar: the same elements that make a good movie make a good life. A main character overcomes conflict to reach his goal. Further, the main character has to be someone we care about, and his goal has to be something big enough that we care, and something important enough that if he doesn’t accomplish his goal, people will die, lives will be ruined, hearts broken. We have to want this character to achieve that goal!

Personally, I would add that if the main character’s goal is a bad one, we pray he doesn’t get what he wants, but that his goals are shattered and he learns to want better things. Think of Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca. He wants to stay out of the war and punish Ingrid Bergman for breaking his heart. Eventually he realizes he needs to help Ingrid and her husband escape Casablanca and rejoin the resistance movement. Thank God Bogart didn’t get what he wanted but rather what he needed.

Don’s book reflects on how editing his life for a movie called him to live a bigger story. He went on a bike trip to raise money to drill wells in Africa. He pursued a girl fully. His goals didn’t always end happily. But he led a big life, and became a bigger person for it. Don’s message: God wants you to live a big story: a beautiful story that involves peril, conflict, and great stakes. That is a life that is worth living.

The first time I heard Don speak about this, a huge burden of guilt fell off me: if my life wasn’t easy at the moment, it wasn’t necessarily that I was screwing up; it was because life is hard and conflict is part of the story. And conflict is okay: whether it’s thrust upon you or you even cause it, God can take what you give him and work with that.

And you know? It was a feel-good moment; and not an escapist moment. It was a moment I was ennobled to step into the conflict and work through it to live a bigger story.

Every time I hear Don give this message on the tour, every time I see someone take his book home, I know they too will be challenged to live a better, more beautiful story than to simply own a Volvo or a beige condo somewhere.

We are traveling to another 60 cities all over the country. Come watch me do a segment of my solo show based Angry Conversations With God. Listen to Don talk about how Don dared to live a bigger story in A Million Miles In A Thousand Years. I bet you will leave energized and excited to live the bit story God has for you.

For more info about the tour, go to http://amillionmiles.com

Join Donald Miller on Steve Brown Etc. on October 16th.

Burnside is Reborn

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 17:29:00 +0000

We're back, with an all new site.

BurnsideWriters.com.

The missing cross

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 14:27:00 +0000

It's easy to be critical of the church, especially retrospectively. Like Monday morning quarterbacks, we can all look back through the centuries and see the folly of crusades, colonization, slavery, and the unholy marriage of political power and wealth with the name of Jesus. These failures are, ostensibly, the reasons offered by millions for their rejection of Christ and, especially, of the church.

Surely our failures are part of the story, but I suspect there's more to it than that. Thomas Merton said something to the effect that the crisis among believers and unbelievers is really the same - we are, all of us, recoiling at the cross.

Of course, the church claims to embrace the cross. We sing songs about it; we wear it around our neck as jewelry; it figures prominently in our architecture; and most significantly, we teach it's centrality. The problem, though, is that in teaching it's centrality we tend to teach the reality that Jesus died FOR us, and so our responsibility is to receive this free gift so that we can be pardoned for our failures and be made right with God.

To declare that this is the heart of the gospel would be like saying that cutting down trees and making bats is the central theme of baseball. Talk about missing the point! The reality is this: Christ walked the path of the cross and then triumphed over the grave. Our journey with Christ begins by acknowledging our need for this gift and receiving it, but this is just the beginning, like receiving our bat and glove. The point is wholly other. The point is that we're now empowered with the same capacity to walk the road of our own cross, laying down our lives in literal and/or spiritual ways for three reasons:

#1 - because Jesus tells us that this is our calling

#2 - because this is where our credibility and life imparting power lies

#3 - because we believe that there's more to life than THIS life.

The early church gave validity to Christ's claims because it was the Christ followers who, in the time of the plague, were willing to open their homes and provide hospitality to the dying, often at cost of their own lives. Wherever the faith presents itself as powerful and real, it does so because there are real and tangible acts of relinquishing rights (to life, our happiness, or being first, or secure, or powerful, or vindicated) on the part of Christ's followers. Of course, the sad testimony of the church is that, too often, we've appropriated Christ's death FOR us, while overtly or covertly avoiding our own calling to die WITH Him. Thus does the church's lust for power, wealth, and prestige, mar the church's testimony, creating a caricature of Christ.

Yes, Christ died for us. But He beat death in order that we might be freed from the fear of death, in order that we might have the entire world opened up before us as we listen for the voice of our Guide and follow Him wherever He might take us. We know this, though, that the path that will impart life to others will only be seen to the extent that we say YES to the Guide who calls us to lay down our own agenda, instinct for survival, or lust for pleasure or power, choosing instead our own CROSS because we believe that life goes on, and on, forever.

As I begin the fall routine, I pray that I'll be willing to walk the path of the cross.

New Burnside on Monday

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 00:00:00 +0000

This may very well be the final post on the Burnside Blog.

On Monday, barring any unforeseen disasters, and requiring a load of work this weekend, we will launch our new site. We've been working on it for a while, and we're thrilled to finally show you what we have. We've also changed our URL. The new site will be at burnsidewriters.com.

The blog will still be up, but posts won't go here. Our old site will link directly to our new one. The blog and main site will be integrated. Some of the posts you've seen here will become articles. For shorter pieces, our site will offer an Asides department, for quick links, posts, and videos.

I get a lot of the glory around here for making this thing happen, but the truth is John Pattison did a thousand times more work than I did bringing this all together. I also want to thank John Whitaker for helping build our site, Metaleap Design for our logo, and a whole host of others who consulted and helped us out along the way (in particular, John's.

More thanks to those who donated to Burnside. Your incentives for giving will be sent out as soon as we get copies of Million Miles.

We're still working out bugs, but the submissions process will be greatly streamlined. Upon launch, we'll be welcoming open submissions, and we'll be much better in fielding them and responding.

Thank you for visiting so far. Spread the word about our new site!

Genesis – The Facebook Edition

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 19:33:00 +0000

I'm so glad I have access to David Sessions' Google status, or I would've missed this.

And speaking of our friends at Patrol Magazine, they have a terrific editorial on profanity and Christian magazines.

We've got a similar piece on censorship and profanity as it pertains to Burnside coming with the launch of our new site...stay tuned.

9/11

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 15:34:00 +0000

Relevant Magazine asked a few Burnside writers for short reflections on 9/11.

You can read those here.

We didn't have a ton of room, but I do want to mention how writing about 9/11 feels vaguely self-absorbed. I mean, think that day changed everyone on some level, but writing on how my thoughts about the world, politics, and war began to shift seem to pale in comparison to people who suffered directly, before and since.

(It's also a shame Susan Isaacs' memories weren't posted...she didn't have time to write a piece, but her story is in her book, and it's crazy.)

“More coffee, hun?”

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 23:33:00 +0000

I’ve had many memories at Waffle House. But I’m guessing some of you have never even been to one before. For those who don't know, it's a 24 hour grease-pit. A southern staple of grits and hospitality. It originally began in a little suburb outside of Atlanta Georgia in 1955 and now reaches as far north as Pennsylvania / Rhode Island and stretches west to Arizona / Colorado. Sorry Portland, but Waffle House might be my favorite cup of coffee. The coffee is not good, it’s bland. But the atmosphere is ironically endearing in that white-trash sort of way. A classic American icon if you ask me.

With three of us at the table my friend looks at my other friend and says, “translate this for me, I’ve been wondering about this for a while.”

He glanced across my friend’s brand new MacBook Pro and starts translating arcane Greek sentences from the ancient Nicene Creed devised by the Romans in 325AD. This is a bedrock, if not the bedrock document securing the survival and health of Christendom.

From across the table I hear, φῶς ἐκ φωτός, Θεὸν ἀληθινὸν ἐκ Θεοῦ ἀληθινοῦ, γεννηθέντα οὐ ποιηθέντα, ὁμοούσιον τῷ Πατρί, δι' οὗ τὰ πάντα ἐγένετο . . . God from God, Light from Light . . .

In Waffle House, mind you, he starts telling us about the annoying propensity to which the Grecians utilized reflexive participles. A literary faux-pas if you ask him. I start laughing at the insanity of it all. I mean, a Waffle House is no place for a MacBook. Let alone an opinionated lecture on an archaic language. My life doesn 't make sense and I'm beginning to be okay with that.

And right before this happened on the same MacBook we purchased plane tickets from Shanghai to Xiamen (pronounced Shaw-Men) a paradise city located on the southern shores of China where we will be living and teaching English next week. A United States Passport and a Chase MasterCard were on the table trying to avoid coffee stains. Ten minutes before all this my friend was quoting Shakespearian Sonnets from his iPhone. This had to be the most sophisticated table in all of Waffle House history.

As we were laughing at this juxtaposition our waitress yelled across the room, “Good morning Duke!”

I looked up at Duke. Duke was more probably a local trucker. He had a Harley Davison hat with flames coming off the bill. A cigarette hung from his mouth and tattoos lined his arms. His black Sturgis t-shirt was tucked into his Brett Favre Wranglers but on his feet he did not have boots . . . on his feet he had flannel house shoes.

Duke garbled, “Good morning darlin.”

I later got in my car and followed my friend back to his house so he could use my car the next day. He was driving his mothers car at the time. And I passed a cop and panicked because my speedometer light is out in my hubcap-less 95’ red Buick Skylark. I didn’t know how fast I was going. It was five in the morning. The story started swirling in my head, “Officer, we were just at Waffle House buying a plane ticket to China because we’ll be over there next week and my friend needs to use my car because he’s taking his mothers car back to her so she can go to work in a little bit. He needs to go to this bookstore in Fayetteville and buy himself a dry erase book with the 500 hundred most used Chinese characters in it. He’s really smart, he knows a lot about Koine Greek and Shakespeare and all...you know he's a good guy.”

And I’m sure he would have said something like, “Sir, I’ve heard a lot of stories in my day. Step out of your car.”

Teach Me To Pray

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 11:18:00 +0000

I write at a kitchen table. There are days when I'd love to have a writer's desk with an old Tiffany lamp perched just so and fountain pens in an empty soup can and copies of The New Yorker strewn about the edges and...but that would be someone else's story. I write at a kitchen table.

As I wrote yesterday, I could see him. Then he'd disappear. Then I'd see him again. Rising. Falling. Rising again. You see, his backyard has a trampoline, like our backyard does. I watched him turn flip after flip after flip, I bet twenty in a row, his eyes closed. He was poetry. Our trampoline has a black safety web that feeds our abandon. His does not; he jumps without a net.

The lights in his house stay on all night long and the windows are always, always open, every last one, and people are always yelling or screaming or crying or hollering. Sometimes, when I'm writing at the kitchen table in the wee small hours I see the lights and hear the sounds. Sometimes I stop writing and pray. There used to be a daddy in his house, but now he's gone. There were rumors about, well, they were rumors. Now there's a boyfriend in his house and rumors of marriage.

Sometimes I stop writing and wonder about him. It used to bug me that the lights stayed on all night but then I thought what if that's because a daddy loved darkness rather than light? That was the rumor. It doesn't bug me so much now, after that thought. And I used to wonder why he would spend long stretches of time doing flip after flip after flip. But then I thought sometimes even a new boyfriend can't put humpty together again and maybe he asks God to make him a bird so he can fly, fly away but God doesn't listen, so the closest he can get to the sky, to being untethered by the things of this world, is to barrel outside and close his eyes and spread his wings and jump without a net.

If I had that writer's desk like I mentioned, it would probably be tucked away in some corner of the house surrounded by books that reached to the ceiling. If I had that desk, I couldn't see Icarus; I wouldn't know how to pray.

Wait a minute…THERE’S A WALL HERE!!!

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 04:30:00 +0000

AND IT'S NOT HOLDING BACK PALESTINIANS!!!

If there's a single area of the world I would infer would be completely covered by archaeologists, that single area would be Jerusalem.

You know what they say: when you infer, you make an in out of 'f' and 'er'.

But seriously, they just found a giant wall in Jerusalem. Now the maps in the back of every Bible ever have to be rewritten!!!

(When reached for comment, the Christian book industry simply said, "Cha-ching!".)

Ugly Ducklings

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 13:21:00 +0000

I'm trying to remember a worse day to be a Duck fan.

It was nearly comical.

The Oregon Ducks-Boise State Broncos matchup to kick off the college football season ended up a disaster. From the opening kick-off, the aura played into Boise's hands: the plucky, all-American underdog facing its Nike-funded, evil-empire, neighboring state, BCS rival.

In last year's game, a Boise State defender delivered a vicious helmet-to-helmet cheap shot to Oregon QB Jeremiah Masoli after his first pass attempt. It was the one moral ground a Ducks fan could stand on going in, and even then it was reluctant. Before the last two season, most Oregon fans loved Boise State. The Broncos aren't in the Pac-10, they've featured a slew of Oregon-grown talent (like Jared Zabransky and Legedu Naanee), and they pulled off one of the greatest games in college football history against a team Duck fans do hate. Even their head coach, Chris Peterson, is a favorite son in Eugene, serving as an assistant coach under Mike Bellotti for six years.

They were also ranked two slots higher in preseason rankings, making this game a lose-lose situation. Smaller conference teams aren't expected to beat teams like Oregon, even if they're consistent college football powerhouses. On paper, in Boise, the Ducks were the underdog, but most of the country doesn't know that. This game also marked the beginning of a new era under the Ducks' promising new coach, Chip Kelly, after the 14 year reign of Mike Bellotti.

What ensued was the most frustrating game imaginable. Despite their much-vaunted offense, which racked up an average of 54 points per game over the last three games last season, Oregon gained a total of 14 yards in the first half. They did not manage to convert a first down until the third quarter.

Despite the ineptitude, the Ducks kept getting breaks. They were only down 13 at the half due to Boise State's two missed field goals, and a series of fumbles and stops kept giving the ball back when it looked hopeless. After their first first down of the game, the Ducks suddenly started playing like they usually do, and rolled in for an easy touchdown. There was an entire quarter and a half to go, and the Ducks were only down 11 points.

It never panned out, and neither team scored again. It was sloppy and ugly on both sides, and I was almost relieved when the clock finally ticked out, but not before Oregon's hardest hitter, T.J. Ward, was injured badly, and not before they repeatedly the same teary-eyed Duck fan in the crowd, a man who looked to be in his 20s, sulking.

Then, things got really bad.

From ESPN's game report:

As the Broncos began celebrating on their famous blue turf, Hout yelled in Blount's face and tapped him on the shoulder pad. That drew an immediate scream from Boise State head coach Chris Petersen, but before Petersen could pull Hout away, Blount landed a right hand to the defensive end's jaw.

Then, Blount wouldn't leave quietly, fighting with the police escorts ushering him off the field, and making blind rushes at taunting fans over the exit tunnel.

I felt two primary emotions in quick succession.

1. A vague sense of justice. I like to pretend, despite my fanhood, I'm fairly objective. But that Boise State player sure came off an @$$hole. Who taunts an opposing team like that, especially after such a humiliating loss? Trash talk is part of the game, I know, but I've always felt sore winners are more obnoxious than sore losers. LaGarrette Blount entered this game one of the top NFL running back prospects in the nation. He finished with -5 yards on 8 carries. That's all the talk you need...rubbing it in during the post-game handshakes is classless.

So watching Hout get absolutely cold-cocked in response was vaguely satisfying. I'm ashamed I felt this way.

2. Anger. I was embarrassed to be somewhat pleased by the punch, and immediately swung the other way. My exact Facebook post was "LaGarrette Blount should be kicked off the Oregon Ducks." Blount's actions made Oregon look as evil as Bronco fans wanted them to be. It's bad enough being the powerhouse team humbled by their small conference neighbor. It's another to punch a guy in an epic display of bad sportsmanship, on national television, in the first game of the year. For many Ducks fans and players, it was shame heaped on a humiliating game.

The next morning, I don't feel the same. Blount should not be kicked off the team, though he should suffer a lengthy suspension. With one emotional reaction, Blount has done irreparable harm to his future. His actions could cost him a shot at the 1st round of the NFL draft (maybe more - with more emphasis on character in pro sports lately, he could drop considerably, costing him millions of dollars in bonuses).

I wasn't alone in my response. The cries were out all over Facebook ("Horrible, I say. Hope they boot him from that sorry excuse of a team..."), from the announcers ("unconscionable!" "reprehensible!"), and the always-indignant John Canzano.

Here's my problem, 10 hours later, with the outrage:

The Oregon and Boise State players had just finished 60 minutes of football. They are big and powerful men, running across the field and slamming into each other at full speed. These men are ridiculously strong. As Chuck Klosterman pointed out years ago in a brilliant essay for ESPN, NFL linebacker Shawne Merriman weighs more than the greatest offensive tackle of all-time (Anthony Munoz, who retired in 1993) and runs faster than the greatest receiver did during his draft combine (Jerry Rice, who retired in 2005). These men are destroying each other for our entertainment.

And yet, when that raw emotion and energy spills out for even a moment after the game, we gasp in self-righteousness. We recall our time on the field - in Little League, or out with friends - and pretend we understand what it's like. If we were tackled just once by a 200 pound man, we would file assault charges. LaGarrette Blount was pulled to the ground 8 times by groups of men even larger, while he was running full speed. We can't fathom, from our pure white towers of the finest carved ivory, how he could ever resort to flinging his fist into an opponent's smug grin?

Maybe I should start taking some notes from hockey: if I'm going to cheer on the barbarism and slow death of athletes, I may as well cheer when they fight, as well. Or at least not recoil in hypocritical horror like a pious windbag.

(UPDATE: Maybe I'm not such a homer after all...Deadspin's post on the incident has some similar themes.)

(FURTHER UPDATE: Blount has been suspended for the rest of the season.)

This has to be a joke…

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 15:26:00 +0000

Apparently, Christians aren't the only ones looking to profit off the apocalypse.

I'm not sure it's real. (The FAQs say it is!) If it is, though...oh, mama. What a wonderful scheme.

(Thanks to reader James for the tip. This blog would be a sad, liberal-infested place without him, and we love him for that.)

Who wants SEC Championship Game tickets?

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 13:06:00 +0000

Okay, I know a great many of you live in the Pacific Northwest. And I know most of you who care about football care more about the PAC 10. But I'm writing a book on Faith and Fanaticism in the Southeastern Conference, and to generate a little interest in the project I'm giving away two tickets to the SEC Title Game.

Here is how the contest works.

You have until Oct 17th to enter. On the 18th I will draw 10 names, and those fans will compete in a six-week, knock out style pick 'em contest, with the winner taking two tickets to the big game. So how do you get entered? Easy, there are three ways.

1. Join my Facebook group.

2. Take the Faith and Fanaticism survey.

3. Re-tweet the survey or Facebook group along with @Chad_Gibbs on Twitter.

In fact, you can do all three and triple your chances of winning!

Thanks for your help, and good luck!

“E” – the estrogen factor of American Christianity

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 14:15:00 +0000

I'm intrigued by a study David Murrow did (found here, archives of the Winter 2008 issue) that examined a possible hypothesis regarding the vast percentage difference between the genders when it comes to church attendance. It's about 60/40 in our church, and this is common. This imbalance is unique to Christianity, as Buddhists, Muslims, Jews, and Hindus all display a remarkable gender balance in their faith practices.

One could speculate about the 'why' of this, and such speculations abound, including hypotheses that address the patriarchal bent of other religions ("of course men are in... they carry all the power cards!"), or their cultural mandate ("it's just that everyone's in, unlike our secular society"), but Murrow's hypothesis is the one I find most intriguing.

He asked both Christians and Non-Christians to answer the question: "Which set of values better characterizes Jesus Christ and his true followers?" They chose between:

Set #1
Competence
Power
Efficiency
Accomplishment
Achievement
Proving Oneself
Results Objects
Technology
Goal-Oriented
Success
Competition

Set #2
Loving Cooperation
Personal Expression
Communication
Relationship
Beauty
Support
Help
Nurture
Feeling
Sharing
Relating
Harmony
Community

95% of those surveyed said list #2 represents the values of Christ. In reality, the lists aren't the values of Christ and/or someone else, but the lists of masculine and feminine values from John Gray's book, "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus". You can debate the merits of this book. You can decry the generalizations and stereotypes. What you can't do is ignore the reality that men don't get involved in faith communities as consistently as women.

The thesis of the surveyor is that American Christianity has been feminized. That's one theory. But those who go down that right tend to simply move the ethos of the church from one imbalanced list to the another. This doesn't seem adequate.

Instead, I'd suggest that men are staying away for a few simple reasons:

1. Men are bored by church. It might be because the sermon's boring, or it might be because there's no compelling vision or venue for involvement. When Christ called his disciples he didn't call them to sit in endless meeting, but to go out and change the world. The school of faith that Jesus ran took place in markets, on walking trails, at sea. Yes, there was teaching, but the teaching was only important to the extent that there was a real thing happening. I'm bored by reading books about the technicalities of mountaineering - unless I'm about to go climbing. Our need to provide a balance of teaching and activity is vital, and addressed here.

2. There's no "vision quest" anymore. My 23 year old son just phoned me from Yosemite Valley in California. He got there by riding his bicycle over 1000 miles, from Seattle, down the Oregon Coast, down the California coast, to San Francisco, and then east to the Sierra Nevada mountains, and into Yosemite. I can tell, just by phone, that he's profoundly changed by doing this. In a sanitized world where even play sets are injury proof, we run the risk of boring our sons to death with Bible stories, Bible ethics, Bible characters, and oh so mellow music, when what might be needed is a week at sea, or a 1000 mile bike trip, or a month in Central America or Africa or... ? You tell me.

3. There's just not enough vision. I don't want to overgeneralize, so I'll say it this way: There are millions of men, and many women as well, who need a mountain to climb; who need a vision that will engage their whole selves; who need to shoot for the moon and the stars when they wake up each day. These people (of both gender) are the ones the church runs the risk of losing if we don't help people see that 'church life' isn't about sitting quietly and singing sweet songs - it's about being spun out (see previous post) of comfort zone, and using our gifts to make the invisible God visible in tangible ways. Doing that will require character qualities from BOTH lists, and both genders.

What do you think? Agree or disagree? Why is there a shortage of men in church?

Derek Webb, Stockholm Syndrome

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 18:50:00 +0000

I like Derek Webb a lot. He's a truly creative guy, working in and around the fringes of Christian music, a genre that doesn't exactly prize "the artist" often. I met him briefly when he was touring during his first round with Caedmon's Call (a band Webb announced he will be reuniting with soon) and it already seemed he was uneasy with the constraints of the business, frustrated by the limitations of playing in churches and the unofficially-enforced Jesus-per-minute standard. After a very weird time in Caedmon's (his songs seemed either pinned on at the last minute, or on a few albums, Webb didn't get a song on at all), he turned to a solo career that seems to flirt with controversy with each release. His first album used the word "whore" in the lyrics, other albums hit hard on social justice issues. Webb transitioned from a straight-ahead singer-songwriter type to a more experimental performer, although in a generally Yankee Hotel Foxtrot way. In the meantime, Webb gave an album away online, and then, inspired by the experience, started Noisetrade.com, a remarkable way for artists to market their music in the uncertain digital age. It's easy to cheer for Webb. He seems like a man with honorable convictions and a desire for his music to mean something.

Which brings us to Webb's new album, Stockholm Syndrome. Webb's online marketing project leading up to the album and controversy with his label over his use of somewhat banal profanity built a frenzy for its release, and now reviewers seem to be lining up to hand out album-of-the-year honors to Stockholm Syndrome. Notably, culture e-zine Christian Manifesto called SS "one of the most important albums of the last 10 years." The problem is, Stockholm Syndrome doesn't come close to deserving that sort of hype.

Stockholm Syndrome is as enjoyable as any disc full of songs intending to be prophetic is likely to be, but neither the message nor the medium end up being all that powerful. The lyrics on "What You Give Up To Get It" are painfully trite at points. The profanity on "What Matters More" is no big deal, especially for anyone younger than age 50 (which includes essentially everyone in Webb's core audience) and the rest of the album ends up interesting and somewhat thought provoking if you're willing to bring your own issues to the table. Still, "Freddie Please" is a criticism of Westboro Baptist "pastor" Fred Phelps, someone you'd have a hard time finding a defender for, even in the most homophobic mainstream churches. I think the church should do a better job of sorting out our attitudes about homosexuality, too, but this particular song, like most of the album, seemed to be more about Webb scolding his audience for their intolerance.

The unfortunate thing is his audience is likely to assume the song is directed towards someone else - someone not hip enough to pick up the Derek Webb disc. Webb is at his most effective when he turns to the theme of the album's title: that, as Christians, we have become too sympathetic to our captors (the world). A few songs seem to return to that thought, but not quite enough. For every profound moment, Webb goes back into prophet mode, but his reliance on extended metaphor and imagery fails his message, and that's assuming the message is focused to begin with. It's not enough, and at times it seems Webb has become overly sympathetic to his captor named Outrage, forgetting about grace. He's not alone in that camp, however...you could probably count the number of Christian musicians able to bring the balance of the Gospel to their work on one hand, and that's only if you include musicians no longer with us, like Rich Mullins.

The album as a whole reminds me of what someone (I wish I remembered who) said about U2's "Pride": "When you think about it, what does that song tell us about either Jesus or Martin Luther King Jr.? It just evokes our memories of them in a mishmash of imagery to seem evocative and meaningful." The same is true for Stockholm Syndrome, minus the Martin Luther King part. For all the stumbling to try to crown this album as "a force that could topple the Jerichos of modern evangelicalism" (as David Sessions wrote for Patrol), I can't quite figure out what to take away from Webb's work, and I suspect I'm just looking in the wrong place.

Besides the muddled message, what's going to keep Stockholm Syndrome from being one of the "most important" albums of the decade (even if we're limiting ourselves to releases in the Christian genre) is that the sound of the songs themselves isn't as innovative as critics (or Webb himself) think. This probably wasn't his intent, but the influence that I kept thinking of throughout repeated listens wasn't Aphex Twin or Radiohead, but David Gray's White Ladder, recalling a time around the turn of the century when folk type musicians started messing with synths and drum machines. So, on the tracks with programmed beats, there isn't the uneasiness or induced paranoia that comes from a Massive Attack record or the aggressiveness that comes from great hip-hop; just a beat that doesn't add much of anything. The Patrol review throws out adjectives to try to describe the album's sounds, including "chopped" and "screwed", which makes me wonder if the reviewer has ever heard a Houston-area remixed rap album (from which those terms come). Webb might have, but if there's a single moment on Stockholm that DJ Screw would have recognized as derived from his influence, that would be the surprise of my lifetime.

I suspect "Jena & Jimmy" is supposed to have a sensual, sexy feel, but it fails on that front. Slower paced tracks like "The Proverbial Gun" and "The State" drag on without much momentum. It's not like there aren't enjoyable moments, because there are ("I Love/Hate You" is probably one of Webb's best songs to date and "Cobra Con" has a nice feel to it), but overall, Stockholm Syndrome sounds like a moderately hip adult contemporary record. The electronic accoutrements feel tacked on and lack a connection to either the present or future of music. (The programming on the most recent David Crowder Band album felt far more connected to a specific musical intent and aesthetic, for example.) Would I recommend the album? Maybe, as long as you temper your expectations. If you're looking for an album that "deserves comparisons to Ok Computer and Kid A" as John Wofford wrote in his review, you'll be incredibly disappointed.

It's certainly not just Christians that get into this endless quest to crown the next great album. There's something about the internet that encourages that sort of behavior. After all, remember when every music site went nuts for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah? I like the Talking Heads as much as anyone, but it didn't take long for that bubble to burst. Sometime next year, the authors of these glowing reviews will move on to something else, and what was "Derek Webb’s exhilarating, subversive masterpiece [Patrol]" will be consigned to the archives. The fault isn't with Derek, who clearly put a lot of effort into Stockholm Syndrome, with moderately successful results. The problem is with our need to feel validated and to have someone in the marketplace championing what we feel is wrong with Christianity.

I loved Steve Taylor when I was younger, as his albums took on Christian retail, Operation Rescue and holier-than-thou church goers; the same people we jaded kids in the back pews couldn't stand either. [In fact, what does this line from a British magazine's review of Taylor's I Want to Be a Clone remind you of?: "This six-track 'mini-LP' is the most exciting and radically 'prophetic' recording the rock'n'roll subculture has so far presented to the Church." As they say, there's nothing new under the sun.] While Taylor has moved on to other ventures, his catalog of albums which seemed prophetic then are now out of print and largely forgotten. Taylor then, and Webb now, aren't exactly preaching to the choir, but instead headline a pep rally for those frustrated with mainstream Christianity.

Oddly, the same day Stockholm Syndrome hits iTunes, the new David Bazan album arrives as well. While Curse Your Branches doesn't attempt to create a new sonic landscape, Bazan hits a new high mark lyrically, essentially writing a concept album on doubt, with every song aching with a struggle to believe. Bazan turns the spotlight on himself and then on the Christian evangelical ideas of God and truth, which is definitely more difficult to listen to and take in, where Webb (and his laudatory fans in the review pages) just keep pointing at a crowd that, to be frank, probably won't ever hear his words. Maybe it's enough to make those slighted by the dominant paradigm to feel better about life on the fringe, but we can't confuse that with prophecy or the likelihood of real change.

A repurposed Parable

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 00:39:00 +0000

Sarah, allow me to build upon your words.

Not long before I left Portland I found myself reading a small book in Powell’s dubbed Flight of the Hummingbird: A Parable for the Environment, a fun little book. After the parable it contained insights and advice from the Dalai Lama and Wangari Maathai, an environmental activist and leader from Kenya.

I don’t remember all that the Dalai Lama and Wangari Maathai had to say (don’t get me wrong, it was charming and to the point), but I do remember, almost verbatim, the parable about the hummingbird and the environment. Parables are funny little creatures sometimes. They stick to you like ticks stick to socks after a walk in the woods.

I got excited when I found the parable in video form. I, like Sarah, want to inspire change and not merely guilt. Here is the repurposed parable:

repurposed

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 22:55:00 +0000

In the home goods section of most department stores, you can find generic plaques with inspirational words like, “Family…Love…Memories” written in fancy scroll.

The other day I was walking through a Target in Portland when I saw one of these cream-colored plaques with black cursive writing. Except instead of “Family…Love…Memories,” it said, “Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.”

Only in Portland does the word “Recycle” make it into artwork, I thought.

The plaque makes for a tacky decoration, but I appreciate the thoughtfulness behind it, especially since I’ve been thinking recently about a Christian’s response to consumerism. Living in Portland where values like stewardship, conservation, and frugality are widely practiced makes this endeavor easier.

When I first began thinking about the implications of my spending habits, my initial response was guilt. I felt very, very guilty about where I shopped, what I bought, and the wages that people were paid to produce these goods. And that’s where my response started and stopped. Just feeling guilty, about most things, most of the time.

And then I began to feel guilty about feeling guilty and it got really ugly.

I think guilt is a common response, especially for people who have been brought up in a punitive religious culture where feeling guilty seems to be the actual chief end of man.

The problem is that feeling guilty is not a helpful response to anything. If it doesn’t change your heart or your actions, what does it matter?

But then there’s conviction, which is the healthy alternative to guilt. Conviction recognizes that a behavior or an action has caused someone grief or harm, and this knowledge becomes the driving force for change.

Instead of being paralyzed by guilt, I’m trying to respond in practical ways to genuine conviction.

My best friend studied home economics in college, and she has been a great resource. She has useful insights into what it could look like to live out the concept that, “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

We talked about clothes shopping, and she suggested that instead of getting brand new clothes from the store, I go to thrift stores and consignment shops to get things second-hand.

I bought a townhouse earlier this year, and we spent a long time brainstorming about the most responsible way to furnish my new home.

She suggested that I start furniture shopping at garage sales, thrift shops, or even antique stores. This practice is essentially recycling old furniture, which is environmentally responsible. And getting used furniture also means I’m not directly increasing the demand for new goods from stores who get their labor from cheap international factories.

We even had a conversation about the best way to dress the windows in my new place. “It’s smart to use curtains rather than blinds,” she said, “Because you can repurpose the fabric when you don’t need the curtains anymore.”

I’ve been trying to apply these principles over the past few months. And when I become convicted about another area of my life that could be more intentional, I call my friend and we brainstorm some more.

I think in our online community, the brainstorming needs to continue as we “spur one another on towards love and good deeds.”

And soon we may discover that it’s not just our curtains or our furniture or our clothes that are repurposed, but our minds and our hearts and our souls.

Please Don’t Make Us Sing This Song

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 23:19:00 +0000

Hurricane Katrina, four years later. Video by The Work of the People. The music is from Songs from the Voice, Volume 1.

Evangelical Myths

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 22:38:00 +0000

A couple months ago I started watching the television show “Northern Exposure” on DVD. “Northern Exposure,” which ran for six seasons on CBS starting in 1990, is set in the fictional town of Cicely, Alaska. One of the most fascinating themes of this quirky, funny, and sometimes deeply moving series is the way Cicely’s white and Indian residents co-exist in community. One of my favorite episodes in Season Four depicts the Thanksgiving celebration, which in Cicely has taken on elements of El Día de los Muertos. Indians ambush whites on the street, pelting them with tomatoes – and then they hug, friends. The holiday culminates with a parade down main street with the Indians dressed as skeletons and spirits. Then everybody gathers at The Brick tavern for a community feast.

I’m in Season Five now, and an episode I watched yesterday corresponds nicely with something I’ve been struggling with re: "On the Narrow Road", my upcoming "evangelical pilgrimage" across the country. A recurring character in the show’s later seasons is a local shaman (he prefers the job description “healer” to “medicine man”) named Leonard. Since he is taking on more white patients, Leonard decides to do some research. He sets up a table in the community center and invites whites to come in and tell him their legends. One white man tells Leonard the story of Paul Bunyan. “How often do you think about that story?” Leonard asks (I’m paraphrasing). The man replies, “Oh, I haven’t thought about that story in years.” Other whites tell him campfire stories like the one about the man with the hook. But these stories aren’t what Leonard had in mind. Toward the end of the episode, Leonard is talking with the white DJ of the local radio station. “I’ve failed, Chris,” Leonard says with a defeated sigh. “I’ve failed to locate the white collective unconscious.”

I laughed out loud.

I read somewhere recently that many pilgrims will prepare for their journey by studying the stories, legends, songs, and myths of the land and people they plan to visit. This is one way I want to prepare for my own pilgrimage through evangelical America. But I feel a little like Leonard in that episode of “Northern Exposure.” I have failed so far to locate American evangelicalism’s collective unconscious.

What are the guiding myths, so to speak, of American evangelicals? Do we look to stories of the Puritans and the Piligrims (speaking of Thanksgiving), or to a particular interpretation of America’s founding? Does the Left Behind series qualify? Those stories do act as a symbolic representation of a meaning system – the beliefs, assumptions, and organizing principles – of a great many people in this country. What about “The Purpose Driven Life” or books by James Dobson? My sociologist friend Matt suggested I may have to approach these questions from a regional perspective – reading Jerry Falwell, for example, to better understand evangelicals in Virginia.

None of these are particularly satisfying, and I am starting to wonder if I am looking for something that doesn’t exist. Is American evangelicalism so individualistic that the only guiding myth that matters to the average evangelical is his or her own testimony (conversion story)? If this is true, what are the consequences for the movement? What does it mean that we don’t have stories to bind us together?

What do you think? Do American evangelicals have guiding myths? Does the shortage of these stories (if in fact there is a shortage) say something about the individualistic nature of evangelicalism? or about its regional and denominational complexity? I’m lost in a morass of questions.

The Image of God in Ted…

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 14:09:00 +0000

I remember, about a decade ago, interviewing for a ministry position and getting into a doctrinal discussion about the image of God in man, particularly debating the question of what extent the image of God resides in fallen humans. "None" was the right answer, according to the team across the table from me, steeped as they were in a strong reformed theology and doctrine of depravity. "Humanity lost any capacity at all to display the character of God when Adam aligned with Satan."
There it is. Simple. "Cut and dried" as they say. They quote some passages from Romans 3 that talk about none who do good, and how our righteousness is as filthy rags. Yes. I understand. I went to seminary.

The problem with this, it seems to me, is that it fails to take into account the profound respect that God has for all humanity in Genesis 9 where God says that human life is valuable precisely because we are made "in His image" - all of us. Fallen? Yes, tragically so, as each of our lives testifies in various ways. Yet, it's so often the case that, right there in the midst of our fallenness, we rise up for moments and align ourselves with God. Isn't Mozart's Requiem something that displays God's image, in spite of the drinking, gambling, and womenizing that characterized the composer? To declare that no unregenerate person displays the image of God in the face of evidence to the contrary seems tantamount to offering a mathematical explanation regarding why it's not raining while standing in the middle of a downpour; evidence to the contrary is everywhere, if we'll just pay attention.

All of this is the backdrop for my contention that, among politicians, Edward Kennedy displayed the glory of God's image more gloriously, and the tragedy of man's falleness more tragically, than most politicians who've graced the pages of history with their exploits.

The tragedy is easy to see. Chappaquiddick stands at the top of a sizable list of improprieties, leaving us with, at the very least, severe question marks regarding judgement and moral character. Christians will excoriate him for his treatment of Justice Bjork and his views on abortion. All this is true.

But there's another side to the man. In 1964 he was instrumental in passing the critical Civil Rights Act which has helped turn the ship of American history away from blatent racism towards egalitarianism. Kennedy's Immigration Act of 1965 sought to give non Europeans some sense of reality for the words that are inscribed at Ellis Island: Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breath free. If you're a woman and you played high school sports, it's because you had an advocate in Ted Kennedy. If you're disabled, and you have access to major buildings and sidewalks in your city, it's because of the efforts of Kennedy. If you're a senior citizen living on fixed income and thus receiving "Meals on Wheels", it's because Kennedy went to bat for you.

A constant advocate for the downtrodden, marginalized, and weak, I can't help but think of James definition of true religion when I think of Kennedy, which has to do with caring for widows and orphans in their distress.

You can argue the politics if you like, declaring the government shouldn't care about racism, or gender equality, or health care, that the extent of their 'intrusion' should be to pave our roads and provide an army, leaving us to fend for ourselves with the rest of life. You can point to his failures. But what you can't do is declare that he didn't "give a damn" about the least of these. As the church has, in recent years awakened to her calling to care for those who can't care for themselves, we've been reminded that caring for those on the margins is our calling precisely because such acts of mercy make the character of Christ visible.

Ted cared for the "least of these" and in so doing, displayed something of the image of God. This is not only a blessing, but a challenge. The challenge lies in our propensity to put black or white hats on everyone, presuming the unfallen to display only the character of Satan,and painting the saved in white because, as we like to say, we're "clothed in Christ".

It's all a bit too convenient. Reality forces us to wrestle with the truths that Samaritans, homosexuals, and political liberals, all manifest compassion, sometimes more visibly than the "saved". Maybe it's time for a little humility on our part, and a little gratitude, and a little openness to the possibility that there are those in this world who've not yet been born again who, nonetheless, display Christ's character at times. May we learn from them by their acts, and honor them.

Portland Wins yet another Beer Game

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 07:22:00 +0000

I’m not a beer snob by any stretch of the imagination. The word “connoisseur” would get me laughed out of most circles. And get this, I wasn’t even allowed to drink in college. I attended a Bible college in the Midwest (it's a great school). But I love beer. And I'm finished with school so occasionally I enjoy a good one (okay, “occasionally” was a bad word choice).

I almost titled this “Portland Ruins yet another Mid-Western Beer Drinker.” And I very well could have because that’s what it did. The greatest city in the Northwest ruined me. And I'm here tell about it. It’s a tragic tale. It really is.

I recently moved from Portland back home to Missouri. A drastic and brave move if you ask me. This place is a real bore sometimes. Not much is shaking in the Midwest. Portland looms large in my heart. But this is home and I’ll embrace it nonetheless (at least for a few more weeks…I’m leaving for China very soon if all the paper work goes through). But this place is special to me. It holds all the familiar quirks and smells that I’m used to. I can’t abandon it just yet.

Out on the town I leaned in and asked the hearty blonde haired waitress with exaggerated curls and spritz perfume what she had on her beer menu and she replied most mysteriously, “Bud Light, Budweiser, Miller Lite, Miller High Life, Miller Genuine Draft, Busch, Busch Light, Coors, Coors Light, Pabst etc… I scratched my head and asked, “Corona?” She shook her head and said, “No.”

I don’t remember what I drank that night, and no not because I drank too much, but because it was awful. I am baffled. I really am. How did frat-boy light-beer win the Midwest beer game? I don't like it.

I am beginning to understand why most Christians in the Midwest demonize beer. Chalk it up, it's a taboo 'round them here parts. But it can't be because beer is evil. No, that’s foolishness. Drunkenness is evil. I believe we've ostracized beer in the Midwest because the only names that are known around here sound so much like Bud Light and Coors Light. If this is the case then I don’t blame you (Midwest) for your beer hating. I mean, you don’t know the other names. The better names. Here are a few . . . take notes: Deschutes, Widmer’s, BridgePort, McMenamins, Rogue, Full Sail, Henry Weinhard's.

And I haven’t even scratched the surface. I told you I wasn’t a snob. Somebody else please fill-in the blanks. But I promise you won’t hate beer anymore. Or at least you’ll hate the right beer for the right reasons. Proper hate is good. I'll let you hate Busch Light if you like Deschutes Black Butte Porter.

I cannot go back. I can’t possibly nurse a Miller Lite. And like that . . . Portland wins again.

back to school

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 00:05:00 +0000

Last night the air in Portland was crisp and cool, and this morning it rained. As I was sloshing to work in the rain, I realized that summer is almost over, which means that school is just about to begin. Which means, of course, that back to school shopping is in full swing.

I have never been a fan of back to school shopping. I have always thought of it as one of those contrived holidays meant to entice shoppers to flock to stores to spend their money on things they don’t need. Like shady salesmen who exhort you to celebrate President’s Day by buying a new king-sized mattress. It just hits me wrong.

Most shopping hits me wrong these days, actually. The emphasis on quantity rather than quality, the constant message that there’s something better than what you have, the idea that this purse or these shoes or this cologne is the missing piece that will make you feel complete…it’s all very empty.

I’ve been doing some thinking and reading and praying about consumerism lately. As part of this self-imposed research project, I watched a documentary called “What Would Jesus Buy?” It was produced by Morgan Spurlock, the guy who starred in “Supersize Me.”

“What Would Jesus Buy” was another, cheesier way of asking the questions I was wondering: What should my response be to consumerism? Where is my treasure? Where is my heart?

I bribed one of my friends with ice cream, and he agreed to watch the movie with me. The movie featured a man named Reverend Billy, who looks a lot like a blonde Elvis impersonator, and his back-up singers called the Church of Stop Shopping Gospel Choir.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Reverend Billy and his choir toured the U.S. in a charter bus, stopping to proclaim on street corners and in churches that America should stop shopping so much.

If you think this sounds like the plot of a good movie, you’d be wrong. At one point, The Rev tries to get an audience at Wal-Mart’s headquarters, but the security guards won’t let him in. So in a fit of passion, he does a spread eagle onto the shrubs in front of the Wal-Mart sign. Nothing gets executives to think seriously about the implications of their business decisions like a lunatic jumping into their bushes.

So anyway, about half way through the movie I decided I would rather poke my eye out with a stick than keep watching it. I was about to turn it off when the producers turned the cameras off of The Rev and his antics, and onto a man who was an advocate for employees of overseas manufacturing companies.

The man was standing in his office with his arm around a slight adolescent Asian girl who, when asked what her life was like, looked blankly into the camera and replied through the translator, “I feel like I’m dying.”

I feel like I’m dying.

I looked at the clothes I was wearing, the furniture I was sitting on, the dishes I was eating from. Was it possible that my purchases had contributed to the outsourcing of labor to Asian children who felt like they were dying?

If money talks, what was mine saying? That instead of getting an education that would enable them to improve their earning potential and their quality of life, these children should be earning pennies a day in sweat shops so I can have my clothes a little cheaper?

Of course, this is a bigger problem than you or I can solve on our own. But maybe we could start with changing the way we approach clothes shopping this fall.

American kids aren’t the only ones who should be getting back to school.

Colored Men

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 04:26:00 +0000

The speaker was Robert Bly. The evening was titled "Red, White, and Black." The topic was specific to men; there are some similarities to women, but maybe that's for another day. Here's the Reader's Digest version:

In their late teens, 20s, and early 30s, men should have a sense of "red" about them - a.k.a., blood. Whether they're feeling their oats or behaving full of piss and vinegar, this is knowing that if a fist fight is awaiting you, it's best to get the first hit. Most mothers hate to see their sons in "red."

In their mid30s up to around 60, men move into the "white." They've settled down a little and are very much a champion of "community." They'll organize groups to clean up the parks, serve on the school board, take the cub scouts fly-fishing, go to Father-Daughter balls, etc., etc. It can be a very productive season.

Past 60 and beyond, a man goes "black" - think Eastwood in Gran Torino; the old curmudgeon who growls and tell the neighbor kids, "Hey, punks, get the hell out of my azaleas!" He'll stand up in health care reform town hall meetings and get rowdy. He'll also tell the young emerging preacher to tuck his shirt in and nobody gives a whipple-eyed dingleberry about the monastics.

Bly held fast to these colors; he supported his beliefs with the weight of man-history. There was obviously much elaboration; one point I'll mention. Bly spoke directly to men who considered themselves Christian: "You skip the red and go straight to white because that's who you think Jesus wants you to be and then wonder why you're so mad in your late 30s/early 40s...it's so unfair; everybody expects you to be white as snow from beginning to end. The 'red' doesn't go away; it has to be honored somehow, someway, sometime."

Bly's not God; he'd be the first to tell you that. And yes, these colors could be seen as limiting, possibly even constricting because 50 is the new 30, blah, blah, pa, ma. And if you should go looking for scriptural chapters and verses that speak of the red, white, and black, well, let me go ahead and tell you you'll be disappointed; oh, I believe they're there, but you can't find them via Bible Gateway. But I also believe the old poet said much that is true, especially about "red."

Men, you may not agree with this, but something deep inside tells me you may believe it.

Church Hopping: Monastery of St. Ephraim of Mount Amomon

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 20:45:00 +0000

As I write this, the worse fires to ravage Greece since 2007 are blazing through the northern suburbs of Athens. I’ve been following developments closely. This is more than a morbid curiosity. My brother goes to college in Athens. From the news reports, I’ve gathered that although the fires rage on, they haven’t reached the city proper. They have, however, forced at least one monastery in Attica, the region that contains Athens, to be evacuated, according to this story from the AP:

A Greek monastery clanged its bells in warning Monday as an out-of-control wildfire raced down a mountainside, elderly nuns were evacuated from its threatened convent and the remains of Saint Ephrem were removed to a safer location.

At the Saint Ephrem* Monastery near Nea Makri, north of Athens, buildings were silhouetted against a red sky lit up by the glow of nearby wildfires. Workers shoveled sand and sprayed areas with limp garden hoses in apparently fruitless attempts to battle the inferno.

"The flames were 30 meters (100 feet) high," said one of the dozen nuns evacuated, wearing a black habit and a surgical mask to ward off the smoke and grit. "Thankfully they came and rescued us."

This story piqued my interest. While mopeds, taxis, and subway trains whiz through Athens, much of the rest of the country, with its small, antiquated villages, seems to have remained untouched by the hustle-and-bustle of modern-day life. If one ever needed a retreat from civilization, Greece would be an ideal place to escape to. Tiny monasteries dot the mountainous landscape of the Orthodox country.

One such hermetic abode is the Monastery of St. Ephraim* of Mount Amomon. The closest city to the monastery is Nea Makri, which is one of the areas the famous Marathon race passes through. Just northeast of Athens, Nea Makri is considered prime property, which is why many are blaming the current crop of fires on arsonists who want to free up the land for development. Nestled near the forests of the Panteli Mountains, at Mount Ammon, and in a dry area akin to California, it’s no wonder the fires are rapidly spreading.

The Monastery of St. Ephraim of Mount Amomon is reportedly one of the oldest in Attica. It used to be a place where priests and religious followers could come and pray. Although the Turkish Empire, which practiced shamanism and then followed the Muslim religion, was generally thought to be tolerant of Greek Orthodoxy, during the Ottoman rule, a group of barbarians attacked the monastery.

One of the people said to have been killed at the monastery was St. Ephraim. He was born on September 14, 1384, in Trikala, Thessalia, as Konstantionos Morphes. He moved to the monastery in Attica, taking on the name Ephraim. He survived one attack on the monastery, but in September 1425 was captured and tortured for eight months. He was hanged on a mulberry tree outside the monastery on May 5, 1426. These exact details come to us through Makeria Desipri, a nun who dreamed them in 1950. A body believed to be his was consequently found on Mount Amomon, and kept as a relic. The Synod of the Orthodox Church in Greece declared him a saint, but since there are no historical sources to verify the account dreamt by the nun, Ephraim’s saint status is controversial. It has yet to be approved by the Patriarch of Constantinople.

His remains, however, are still considered holy and were transported to safety during the fires that are currently ablaze.

[Photo of remains of Ephraim via Orthodox Wiki]

If you are looking for Ephraim in art, note that he is remembered through iconography as having a black beard and wearing a black robe.

[Image of St. Ephraim, donning blue instead of his customary black, via Uncut Mountain Supply]

The monastery was destroyed during the Ottoman Empire, but has since been re-erected. Today, many Orthodox believers pilgrimage to the site. (For information on tours, visit Premier Taxi or VIP Taxi.) Prior to the fires, the monastery was most recently in the news in 2005 when the bishop of Attica and the nuns of the monastery accused each other of embezzling pilgrim's donations.

[Photo of monastery via Premier Taxi]

Unlike houses of worship, which are built to inspire awe of God, St. Ephraim Monastery is humbly made, probably as a means to promote the nuns’ efforts to live modestly and without distraction. The monastery is built of rough stone. It reminds us that none of us, not even nuns, are perfect. We are coarse and jagged, but God allows us to come as we are, and uses us despite our imperfections. That no two stones are alike also reminds us that no two people are alike. Each of us, even if we dress uniformly in a habit, are unique. Still, we come together, like these stones, to build up the body of the church.

[Photo of monastery via VIP Taxi]

Typical of Greek Orthodox cathedrals, the monastery features a domed roof. This architectural feature is designed to make God feel close, as it encircles the viewer.

There is much shrubbery around the monastery. The mulberry tree on which Ephraim was believed to have been hanged is on view within the confines of the monastery.

[Photo of mulberry tree via Orthodox Wiki]

*The reports indicate that the monastery is question is affiliated with Saint Ephrem, however the only monastery in Nea Makri I could find is affiliated with Saint Ephraim. Ephrem the Syrian was a hymn writer who died of natural causes in Edessa. The biography of Ephraim differs and is given above. If I have reported inaccurately which monastery was evacuated, please let me know.

Meditations: Remembering Who We Are

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 11:33:00 +0000

The 1980’s spy thriller, The Bourne Identity opens with a mysterious man being plucked from the Mediterranean ocean by a fishing boat. He’s suffered several bullet wounds and a head trauma. The man is an amnesiac and doesn’t know his name or his history. He struggles to learn his identity, sifts through the evidence and concludes that he was an assassin. Over the course of three novels, Bourne faces countless dangers only to discover things were not what they seemed. He was not an assassin, but a government agent who had assumed a secret identity in order to hunt an assassin.

Bourne’s accident caused him to lose touch with who he really was and the results were costly.

I identify with Bourne’s character. I’m not a killing machine, or a spy, or particularly heroic. In recent months, I have lost touch with who I am—and like Bourne— I’ve paid a price. Let me explain.

A handful of weeks ago, my boss took me out to lunch and asked me if I was ready for a “small shift” in my job description. The last time my job “shifted” I took on the supervision of the youth and college ministries in addition to the children’s ministry. This time, Derek asked me to take on Sunday morning adult education. The ministry, in a plain speech, is in a state of disrepair: There are few teachers, no job descriptions, no policies, no training materials—and oh, just a handful of weeks before the Fall launch. Gratefully, Derek had already recruited a brilliant high capacity volunteer leader to be the point person for the ministry. Diane and I have been meeting weekly, racing against the clock so we could have a respectable Fall launch.

Supervising the youth ministry has taken more time than normal this Summer. And we’re migrating to a new database this Fall which meant extra training hours and prep time.

This Summer I’ve been doing children’s ministry on the back stroke. And if I’m going to be perfectly honest, it’s shown. Not having adequate time to recruit, we’ve gone into most weekends a few volunteers shy of a full complement. My “coaches” have borne the brunt of the burden and have spent too much time putting out fires.

And this week, it caught up with me. I began to wake up feeling high levels of anxiety. I found myself waking up on the edge of tears and fearful. A few evenings ago, Amy and I were having a disagreement and I completely over reacted. My anxiety levels were simply too high to work through a low grade conflict with any measure of emotional intelligence.

My blow up was enough to motivate me to call a college friend of mine who makes a living as a life coach. Lee asked me what the source of my fear was. I responded that I feared disappointing my coworkers and volunteers.

Lee probed deeper. Why did I fear that?

My answer surprised me. I’m afraid that apart from my performance that I have no value to my teams.

As soon as the words escaped my mouth I knew what my problem was. I had forgotten who I was. For a number of reasons, some healthy, some not, I’m a competitive, performance oriented person. It wasn’t until my college years that the light bulb clicked and I realized that my religious achievement didn’t impress God. God loved me… because he loved me. Grace is a tough concept for a type-A knucklehead to embrace.

And recently, in all my busyness, I forgot—again—who I was. I am not acceptable to God, and my community, because of my ability to perform as a good worker bee. My worth comes from being God’s creation and his child.

I’m immediately took a few action steps. I stopped by a coworker’s office and laid out all my cards on the table, even though I hate being weak. I did the same thing over lunch with one of my best friends and key volunteers. I also sat down in front of my calendar and protected key hours to be with God.

Immediately the fear and anxiety levels lowered. Sure, the Fall is still bearing down on me and I’m behind. But the fear of failure has lost some of its power.

I’m learning that the best Christian leaders, at their core, know who they are. They are children, God’s children. This knowledge drains much of the fear out of leadership. When I anchor my identify to my performance, I’ll actually play things a little safer. I can’t take real ministry risks because if I fall short, I lose (in my warped mind) personal value).

A “child leader” actually has the freedom to risk more. A leader who remembers that he or she is a child of God has the freedom to take real risk—Their Heavenly Father will catch them when they fall. Their peers love this leader, not for the achievement, but for whom God made them to be.

My prayer for you, and I, whether we are leading our own lives, or others, is to remember our identity in Christ, and to have the freedom to serve without fear.

"Our Father, Who art in Heaven..."

The Idiot Box: Sometimes You Wanna Go…To NOSTALGIA!

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 15:53:00 +0000

My love of opening credit sequences, especially at HBO, is well-documented (by me), but last night I was reminded of the greatest opening sequence of all-time.

Seriously, I defy you to find one better. Even "Wonder Years" falls short. I mean, isn't this nostalgia at its finest? The imagery captures the show's essence so purely, recalling how each character has, in a sense, always existed. It's difficult to watch, and hear those doo-wops, without a big fat grin breaking out.

(Even without Shelly Long, I feel this rendition is the best, primarily because it includes Frasier, yet still closes with .)

I'm open to other suggestions, though. Paste Magazine has a few, and seems to agree with me.

The Cost of Blasphemy (Priceless)

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 03:04:00 +0000

(Editor's note: So, this post surprised me. Contributors to this blog, at least for the next...well...9 days...have freedom to post whatever they like, whenever they like. This is done with a high level of trust.

This post, if it had been edited, would not have passed.

And yet, it's very, very funny. I saw it briefly, and saw words we don't post on this blog, and I pulled it immediately. But then I read it, and it does actually say something. You may not agree with what it says, but it's at least worth reading through entirely. So we're leaving it up. Have fun.)

There's been a mistake.

A couple days ago, I saw a 'Monetize' tab in my blogspot settings. When I sign my blog up with AdSense, I get a few cents every time someone looks at my blog (or something like that). It sounded like an easy way to make money, and since I am vehemently opposed to working hard for money, I went for it.

But now I have these awful little ads above my music player that read, "Free Study Bible," "Free Bible CD," and "How Jesus REALLY Saves." What the hell? I don't want this shit on my blog. If I ever write about the Bible it's usually quite blasphemous and heretical. Can't these automatic ad-placers figure that out? Is Google unable to compute satire?

And now I'm not sure if this particular post will make it better or worse. Apparently, this AdSense program recognizes the recurring words that I use in my posts, and thus attaches their ads based on my content. But, shit, if I'm ever making a post about the Bible or Christianity, it's usually pretty negative... I don't really want ads for wedding cakes and Bibles on here. Come on! I need to get these ads changed somehow. Maybe I need to do a quick blitz of anti-Christian sentences so AdSense will think that I hate religion... Let's experiment...

Christianity sucks.

Abortion is great.

Jesus was a homosexual.

Atheism is the best.

Download pornography.

The Bible is a lie.

Don't learn Hebrew.

I'm a philosophy major.

And a psychology minor.

Burn your Bible.

Embrace Satanism.

Evolution is correct and Creationism is incorrect.

Intelligent Design is also incorrect.

Disobey your parents as well as your Father in Heaven.

F***ing ***damn Ass S***.

Skip Church.

Nietzsche said, "God is dead."

Vote Democrat.

I love Christopher Hitchens.

You should masturbate regularly.

Yeah. That should clue them in. Come on AdSense, give me some better ads! This is Total Darkness vs. Blinding Light for crying out loud, don't you get the irony of that title? I don't want my readers to see the light, I want them to neutralize it.

Have you guys ever seen neutralized light? It is not a sight. And that's what we should be advertising on here.

Bless the Lord, winter cold and summer heat

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 16:00:00 +0000

This has been a year of weather extremes in Portland. Last winter the city was socked by snow and ice storms it didn't have the money, equipment, personnel, or material (salt and sand) to deal with. Everything was shut down for days. We couldn't get our car out of the cul-de-sac for a week - which was fine with me.

Last month, Portland came within a degree of breaking its all-time high temperature. I heard from someone that that day Portland was the third hottest place in the world, hotter even than Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. Portland also came close to breaking its record for the most consecutive days over 100 degrees. The weather yesterday was a relatively mild 85 degrees but it was humid and I was grumpy.

I've expended a lot of energy this year complaining about the weather. I know we don't have it so bad - I've heard stories of heat in Phoenix so intense that it melts the pavement - but perspective is difficult for me on this. Mid-August is usually when I start to physically crave the rain, and this year especially so.

I've been reading Kathleen Norris's latest book, "Acedia & Me." In addition to being a personal, cultural, historical, spiritual and literary exploration of acedia - an uncommon enough word, meaning "absence of care," that Microsoft Word doesn't recognize it - this moving book recalls her marriage to the poet David Dwyer, his struggles with mental illness, and his death from cancer in 2003.

There is a passage in chapter six in which Norris remembers walking to visit her husband in a psychiatric ward on a day when it was so frigid that it hurt to breathe. As she cursed the cold and icy pavement under feet, she recalled the words of a canticle from the Sunday divine office. She was, she wrote, unaccountably consoled. "The words were now a part of me, and when I most needed them, the rhythms of my walking had stirred them up, to erode my anxiety and self-pity, and remind me that blessings may be found in all things." All things, indeed.

I don't spend enough time memorizing scripture. I tend to intellectualize it. I forget that there is power there. The fourth century Desert Fathers and Mothers believed that even when a monk was reciting words of scripture in a language he did not understand, the demons with which he was in constant struggle were forced to flee.

Today I'm trying to commit to memory the words from Kathleen Norris's canticle.

Bless the Lord, winter cold and summer heat...
Bless the Lord, dews and falling snow...
Bless the Lord, nights and days...
Bless the Lord, light and darkness...
Bless the Lord, ice and cold...
Bless the Lord, frosts and snows;
sing praise to him and highly exalt him forever

(Daniel 3:45-50)

Burnside Fantasy Football League

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 15:47:00 +0000

There's still one spot open, and the draft is tomorrow!

If you want that last spot, go here.

League ID#: 454768
Password: burnside

First come, first serve.

We Love the Lordy

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 08:35:00 +0000

I apologize for posting this video in advance. My friend Tyler found it and sent it to me and I just couldn’t resist. I mean, he has an eye for these things. I know it seems harmless and cute at first but it’s not. Not at all. We both agree that these people are spearheading everything that’s wrong within Christianity.

After watching the video please take my Walker Percy inspired Quiz:

How does a person like your-self respond to a video like this? .

A. You judge it like the good fundamentalist that you are because something this awful deserves a good James Dobson wag of the finger.

B. You laugh your ears off, after all, you’re convinced that you’re watching aliens from another planet. And then you figure that having no ears is the only conceivable way to walk away from these aliens. And at least now with no ears it will never happen again. You won’t have your ears, better yet, you won’t have this music.

C. You hover over a toilet and vomit your stomach out because this is the only response that makes sense to your central nervous system. And then you smile because you know like any good artist that pain and laughter are woven together in the bowels.

D. You sing-along, as it turns out, you find it to be catchy as hell? But you share this joy with no-one. Because as you reckon no-one understands you to begin with. Why would they start now?

E. You get a nudge to write in your own answer because you secretly know yourself as an autonomous human being who dislikes pop quizzes with predetermined answers. You hate to be boxed in more than you hate this music. After all, you have an opinion of your own.

Reasons I Hate Phoenix: Idiots On the Local News

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 22:32:00 +0000

(This is an ongoing series I'm starting. In half my posts, I will detail how horrible the city of Phoenix is. But because my wife gets sad when I show too much displeasure with living here, I'll temper them with an equal amount of posts on why Phoenix is the gem of the Southwest.)

Look: I don't mind it down here. There are worse places to live than Phoenix, Arizona. Dallas, for instance. We've got some friends in Arizona, and some restaurants we like. There's an artisan pizza joint on every corner. And it's always sunny! Hooray!

But then I'll watch the local news, and all the idiocy of this place will come rushing back. Maybe local news is this way everywhere, but it's just...astonishing. They'll interview people on the street about any number of things, and I find myself wondering, "Where did this moron crawl out of?" Here is a collection of three stories on last night's news:

Man tries to vacuum behive, gets attacked

This happened a few blocks from where I live. Here's something: when you try and vacuum up a beehive, and the bees come out and sting the hell out you, that's not called a bee attack. That's just bees being bees. You can't roll yourself in honey, wrestle with a bear cub, then feel indignant and victimized when a bear eats your face off.

This was the second bee attack story on the news yesterday.

Man arrested for setting own million-dollar home on fire

This one also happened within a mile of our house, and is full of gems:

"I had nothing to do with this fire starting," said Marin on July 6, 2009. "I have a conscience as clear as the driven snow, and that will come out," he added.

"As I opened that door, there was this blast of super-heated smoke," said Marin. "I never even saw a fire."

Oh, and the reason the fire was suspicious? Marin managed to escape the fire by climbing out his upper story bedroom window using a ladder and scuba gear, both of which happened to be in his bedroom closet.

Scottsdale man wins fight over 'lemon' Lamborghini

How about the horrifying story of what this charming gentleman went through? We need stories like this; stories where Joe Everyman stands up to the soulless auto industry...and wins one for all the common folk.

DayPortPlayer.newPlayer({articleID:"23686",bannerAdObjectID:"35",videoAdObjectID:"34",videoAdConDefID:"11",playerInstanceID:"24FAD9E0-DC70-2532-414F-7E6F051C4C2F",domain:"knxv.dayport.com",rootCategory:"null",categoryID:"3",accPos:"CCTVI.NEWS.LOCAL",accSite:"KNXV"});

I keep picturing this guy calling up ABC 15 - "Hi...news? Hold on to your hats. Have I got a story for you..."

I had squeaky brakes for four years on my old '85 Accord. Looking back, I wish I'd whined about it incessantly, or at least sued Honda.

A letter

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 13:17:58 +0000

I wrote a book about my struggling with the church. I thought it would only be fair to share about the church’s beauty also. This was in my mailbox yesterday. Read the original post on The Burnside Writers Blog

A letter

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 13:16:00 +0000

I wrote a book about my struggling with the church. I thought it would only be fair to share about the church's beauty also. This was in my mailbox yesterday.

Stuff Youth Pastors Like

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 21:33:19 +0000

It’s funny. Because it’s true. Read the original post on The Burnside Writers Blog

Stuff Youth Pastors Like

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 21:32:00 +0000

It's funny. Because it's true.

Part of the Solution: Spiritual Security

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 14:29:00 +0000

artwork by He Qi The idea for this column was to draw attention to facts of which we might not be aware. Every couple of weeks, we wanted to highlight injustices with some numbers and statistics and then offer practical solutions. We simply wanted us all to become aware of both how we may inadvertently [...]

Part of the Solution: Spiritual Security

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:41:00 +0000

artwork by He Qi

The idea for this column was to draw attention to facts of which we might not be aware. Every couple of weeks, we wanted to highlight injustices with some numbers and statistics and then offer practical solutions. We simply wanted us all to become aware of both how we may inadvertently be a part of the problem and how we can be a part of its solution.

That approach, in educational terms, is very top down. While definitely necessary, this week I’m thinking more in terms of bottom up:

Lenna, my youngest daughter, sprouted like a sunflower over the summer, the result being she has outgrown all of last year’s school clothes. Now, this was no surprise to me, but Lenna always seems a bit caught off guard when her old favorites no longer fit. When the sleeves are too short, and her pants begin to look like crops, she just doesn’t understand how this could have happened to her.

The logical thing, to me, would be to hand down her like new, EUC (ebay lingo for Excellent Used Condition) wardrobe to our neighbor friends, whose daughter is one size behind Lenna. The father of that family of five is the pastor of a small nearby church, and they are always really excited to receive the clothing, either for themselves or for friends. And I’m always really excited that the clothes find a new home.

Lenna, however, is not. Not only is it unfair that her legs were stretched like silly putty, it’s also not fair that her favorite articles of clothing should no longer be in her possession. Just a few weeks ago, we had a spat over this issue, as she didn’t want to let anything go. I was exasperated. And she was in tears.

Later, that afternoon, as I watched her swim with her big sister, I thought about why she was so unwilling to let go.

“Lenna, you know Daddy and I will get you new clothes,” I had told her. “And you know you’ll even be able to pick them out yourself,” I added. Since she and Ella are now pretty much the same size, there are no more hand me downs for Lenna. I thought she’d be ecstatic. But she hadn’t been.

Maybe Lenna was afraid to let go because she wasn’t sure if she would like her new clothes as much? Maybe deep down, she didn’t trust that Bjoern and I would really buy her new clothes? Maybe the idea of letting her stuff go evokes a deep seated insecurity in her?

Maybe she is not alone?

Perhaps the reason that many of us are afraid to share is the deep-seated insecurity in all of us that God will not provide for our needs once we have let go of our possessions. Maybe we are afraid we won’t have enough – money, time, food, energy, stuff. So we hang on to it, just in case. Sometimes, we may even hoard it, I think. Just in case. Just in case God isn’t there for us. Just in case He’s got better things to do.

Looking around, I’m beginning to see how our culture feeds this fear. The banks promise security and freedom with their savings accounts, the stores promise us more bang for our bucks, and the universities promise us job security with their degrees. And this all feels normal to us, to acquire our own existential security through culturally applauded self-effort. And when we’re so busy securing our own freedoms, we are, perhaps, less apt to forget our own needs and remember the needs of others.

The clothing industry is so concerned with their profit margins that it would seem silly to waste money on safety for cotton farmers dying of pesticide poisoning. The consumers are so concerned with having enough of the stylish trends to get them through the winner that it would seem counterintuitive to pay more for a five dollar shirt.

While it would certainly be a noble effort to demand safety precautions for cotton farmers in India, buy organic clothing, or purchase second hand clothing at Goodwill as Part of the Solution, it would also make sense to first believe that God will provide for us when we have done the right thing.

Lenna went with me to the neighbor’s to drop off her old clothes. She actually got a kick out of showing their daughter her favorite outfits because she was involved in the process. And then I wasn’t just the mean mommy who took her clothes away; I was also the mommy who took her “shopping” on Ebay for the pink polka dotted skirt she had always wanted.

In Which I Try and Tug At Your Hearstrings.

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 04:29:24 +0000

I haven’t made a mix tape for a girl in some time. I think the last one was for my wedding, and I didn’t do them too often before that because I dated Mindy for something like five years, and mix tapes only work for the first bit (after that, they expect you to actually [...]

In Which I Try and Tug At Your Hearstrings.

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 03:23:00 +0000

I haven't made a mix tape for a girl in some time. I think the last one was for my wedding, and I didn't do them too often before that because I dated Mindy for something like five years, and mix tapes only work for the first bit (after that, they expect you to actually do things).

But I got this idea today to make a mix for my daughter, who's coming in October (or possibly before). So I spent a while doing it...much longer than I planned.

When I make a mix anymore, I do it on iTunes, and basically listen to the last 15 seconds of a song, then the beginning of the next to check the transition between. This one required a fair amount of tweaking. My criteria was no irony: sincere and beautiful songs, with a bit of whimsy thrown in. I started with 40 tracks, then narrowed it down to a final 19, larger than most of my mixes. The list ended up heavily feminine, with 10 female vocals. I'm not sure if that was intentional or not.

Here's my list:

1. "A Day In the Life" - The Beatles (I figure, on her first drive home, the first song she should hear is the greatest song ever recorded.)

2. "I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch)" - The Four Tops (Trying to keep with that "greatest songs ever recorded" vibe.)

3. "God Only Knows" - Petra Haden cover (Ditto above, but taking a contemporary approach. You can download this song guilt-free here.)

4. "To The Moon" - Sara Groves (Not quite sure here, but I liked how it fit, and the brief interlude is nice.)

5. "1234" - Feist

6. "The Beginner" - Miranda Lee Richards

7. "Doo Wop (That Thing)" - Lauryn Hill (This didn't fit well, what with the dialogue at the end of the song, but I felt it was important, both message-wise and because the song kicks ass.)

8. "Just Like Anyone" - Aimee Mann (Again, liked the brief interlude feeling here.)

9. "Wake Up" - Arcade Fire

10. "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" - U2 (And, with these last two, I tip into emergent Christian banality. But at least I'm enjoying the sound.)

11. "Chariot" - Page France

12. "Horsey" - Hem (All little girls want ponies, right? Maybe I have a lot to learn.)

13. "Us" - Regina Spector

14. "I'm An Animal" - Neko Case (My favorite song from the year she will be born.)

15. "No One Knows My Name" - Gillian Welch

16. "Please, Don't Make Me Sing This Song Again" - Various Waterdeep-associated folks, for The Voice Project (This is the best worship album I've heard in a decade. Actually, before then.)

17. "All You Need Is Love" - The Beatles (It should be noted this and "A Day In the Life" are taken from the soundtrack for the "Love" show. Susan can tell you how awesome that is.)

18. "Sons & Daughters" - The Decemberists (Which is about heaven.)

19. "Five Stars and Two Thumbs Up" - Danielson (Because this is what I hope God tells my daughter someday, when she is face to face with Him.)

Meditations: So Sow

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 20:07:45 +0000

It’s a good weekend for looking back, what with Woodstock and all that. My looking back though, doesn’t go quite that far, since I was only 13 when the festival came down, and living on the wrong coast. Instead, I looked back this weekend, to an island, and was reminded of the parable about the [...]

Meditations: So Sew

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 14:48:07 +0000

Meditations: So Sow

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 13:33:00 +0000

It's a good weekend for looking back, what with Woodstock and all that. My looking back though, doesn't go quite that far, since I was only 13 when the festival came down, and living on the wrong coast. Instead, I looked back this weekend, to an island, and was reminded of the parable about the seed and sower.

Back in 1990 I'd had enough of being a pastor, and so had set out to do something different (was it calling? frustration? my own initiative? God's? Yes). As a result, I would spend the next six years travelling the world and teaching from the scriptures for Torchbearers Missionary Fellowship, a coalition of Bible Schools scattered on various continents. Of all the places I taught, the place where I invested the most time was the school closest to home, located on a spectacular island in British Columbia. That first year of my new ministry, I probably spent 10 weeks up on this island teaching students. What I loved about doing that then is the very same thing I love about doing it now, which is that my role when I teach there is twofold: teach, and hang out with students, hearing their stories, and sharing in their lives.

I still remember when I was invited up for six weeks to simply teach and shepherd students. "Are you kidding me? You mean, besides teaching the Bible, you'd rather have me playing two on two volleyball with students, or roasting oysters on the beach than make budget proposals, attend board meetings, and interface with government officials about building codes? Um, yes, I'll be there on the next ferry." Thus began a relationship with the ministry on this little island that has continued for 19 years.

I still go teach there. I still love hanging out with students, sharing the scriptures with them, sharing meals with them, and hearing their stories. However, one of things that I've grown to wonder after all these years is, "what happens to these students?" Of course, I know that statistically speaking, some press forward and some don't. But my question is more personal. "What happened to Chris? Linda? Stacey? Liza? Darrin?" because these were some of the ones with whom I spent the most time during that very first year, when I lived there so much of the time.

I boarded the ferry again, one week ago today and headed there to teach this week, not for a week of Bible School, but for a family conference, which is like a "Bible study vacation" (unimaginable for some, I know, but in this big world, there are lots of people who love having their meals prepared, their dishes done, and their children cared for, while they in return wrestle with themes from a book of the Bible, as these guests did this past week while a taught Exodus).

My big surprise and joy came when, upon arriving, I realized that many of these past students had signed up for the week of teaching. Now in their mid-thirties, they'd made the trek from Alberta or Saskatchewan or wherever in order to return to this island, a place of their own spiritual roots. There they are, in the picture, only now they all have teenagers.

Yes, they have questions. Yes, they've faced disillusionment and trials. And yes, they're still walking with God! I was able, at various times throughout the week, to speak with most of them, amazed that they remembered specific things from talks I'd given in the springtime of 1990, when I was 34. We took the picture above on the ferry, as we were leaving (one student never left the island... he's the one working for the ferry).

As I stood here with the students, my heart warmed by the reality that, through all the joys and sorrows, all the disillusionment and idealism, these students are still showing up, still seeking and serving Jesus. And that's when I remembered those words from Jesus about a sower who went out to sow seeds in the field. As a kid, when I saw that parable on the flannel board, and we planted tiny seeds in the soil, I was told again and again, until I couldn't bear to hear it any more, that Iwas the soil and God was planting seed in me so, by God, be a good little boy so that the soil of your heart will let the seed grow.

Yeah. I get it. But Friday, on the ferry, I was reminded of something equally true: I'mnot just soil...I'm a sower of seed, and the reality is that, because of my particular calling with students, I don't always get to see whether the seed really takes root or not. But long after I've boarded the ferry and moved on to other things, the seed that's been sown will work it's mojo, not because I'm clever, but because God uses things like rocks, donkeys, and messed up humans to accomplish his purpose. I was reminded by the faithfulness of these old friends to keep on sowing; when I feel like and when I don't, when the soil seems receptive and when it doesn't. One never knows, nor does one need to know, what will happen when particular seed meets particular soil. But if seed and soil never meet, one knows for certain, that there will be no fruit.

O Lord, God of seed and soil;

Thanks be to you for the miracle of life
That happens as seed meets soil
Be our constant reminder that we are both:
seed and soil giver and receiver.
So enable us to sow faithfully that
Your blessings are spilled through us
Into the soil of this beautiful and broken world.

Amen .

Purpose-Driven Centrist: Bucking Tradition and Typical Church

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 21:00:01 +0000

Purpose-Driven Centrist: Bucking Tradition and Typical Church

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 21:00:00 +0000

A couple weeks ago I posted a short survey to collect some experiences readers here have with faith and church. This was as close to the same survey as I could replicate of what the Barna Group did in June, albeit mine less scientific. Nonetheless I am very fascinated in the current changes in Christianity, whether it be the emerging re-formation that I discussed last month or simply the church-(s)hopping pattern / dissatisfaction I have seen and have myself.

I have decided (or resigned myself to the idea) that I will never find a church experience that will completely satisfy me. I wonder if my wife and I will ever find one that we both can agree and feel comfortable in together. That's not because we don't agree about church, but that we have discovered over our years together that we have different desires and ways of experiencing God. Think Five Love Languages of church-speak. So I equally wondered how our readership here related to Barna's scientific poll.

Here are the results:

I expected that our readership would be more progressive than the average respondent to a Barna poll, but what surprised me that while 82% of those who took my survey are willing to try a new church and 28% of the respondents attend either a house or marketplace church, only 16% of BWC respondents are tired of the typical church experience. The popular response to that question were 66% of you that said that the usual type of church experience is "ok - I tolerate it."

Being an unscientific survey, I'm not sure what to make of this dichotomy. I don't want to read too much into it, but I'm wondering if any of the following scenarios would fit to this:

A) the house and marketplace church experiences are the same as a traditional, typical bricks and mortar church
B) there is a a resignation that alternatives to typical church won't be any better
C) identity and community based/confined within typical church experience isn't as significant

I'd love to read comments if options A or B fit your experience, but option C can be supported in the 87% of BWC respondents that develop their religious beliefs on their own as opposed to based on the church they attend, and 92% of you responded that you feel that you can carry out and pursue your faith in a different environment from a typical church.

Because this type of topic is best discussed as a conversation (insert Tim is an emergent joke here), I have some relatively direct questions:

If most of us are simply tolerating our churches or church experience, what are the reasons we continue to attend?
If the beliefs and doctrines of the churches we attend do not provide our religious beliefs, why do we support their authority, leadership, or influence through our attendance (and I assume giving)?

Before you comment, and I hope people do, let me give you the demographic information of this anonymous survey:

Female - 48% / Male - 52%
18-24: 23%
24-30: 35%
31-40: 29%
41-50: 7%
50+: 6%

2% of the respondents said they were Catholic, 84% said Protestant, no one claimed to be Orthodox, and 13% said they considered themselves Other. The "Others" were given the opportunity to comment, and here are their responses:

I am tired of labels and denominations. They're useless
Protestant with a healthy respect for other traditions
Some dude trying to follow the Christ
I find truth and beauty in the three other choices (Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox) but I feel that If I choose one of those I must somehow disagree with everything they do. So I would rather just be called a follower of Jesus
Emergent
Protestant, but leaning toward converting to Catholic
some vague form of post-evangelical post-Western-Christendon quasi-Protestant-ish
A plain old follower of Jesus
anglican

Thank you all who responsed. I really appreciate and look forward to more conversations.

PS - To remove any presupposed context that I lean towards or am anti-church, my real motivations are that I tend to flip-flop between being totally (and lazily) dependent on church as my only God-experience and totally and independently dependent on finding a whole new way of experiencing God in community. Some periods of time I could skip church for a whole month and feel as close to God as I ever have through my fellowship with others and personal readings of scripture and faith books. Other periods if I miss a week of church, I feel completely lost and nothing I do Monday - Saturday seem to get me back on track.

Spirit in the Material World: The Physics of Truth

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 20:59:44 +0000

Spirit in the Material World: The Physics of Truth

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 20:48:00 +0000

Physics seems the least insecure of the sciences. Chemistry runs a close second, but skins get thinner with Biology. Once organisms become the object of study, condescension and defensiveness arise. The “soft” sciences like Psychology, Sociology, Economics, and Anthropology are little more than kindergartens filled with academics whimpering about the Masters-level cretin who high-jacked their hypothesis.

Perhaps physicists exude more confidence because their discipline requires a bit of dissociation from emotion. The concepts are abstract and the methods often tedious. Scientific results tend to be concrete measurements of physical phenomena. Physicists also seem more open to mystery than other scientists. Though they believe in laws governing the physical world, they work with the infinite more than rest of us. Astrophysics, quantum physics, and relativistic physics deal with numbers that defy imagination. They acknowledge that some things can't be explained, and seem almost to relish findings that challenge traditional constructs. Physicists love a good paradigm shift. Maybe that’s why Physics seems more open to God than other scientific disciplines.

Beginning in the 1970’s, physics started talking about the Anthropic Principle, also referred to as “anthropic coincidences.” These theories acknowledge that the universe seems inclined to produce the conditions for life. Some even said that the physical laws of the universe implied intentional design as the governing force instead of chance and chaos. String theory raised the possibility of different dimensions where God might reside. And physicists working with the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland are trying to smash atoms at a high enough speed to find the smallest building block of matter. They call it “The God Particle.” While many scientists balk at the notion of an intelligent designer, a surprising number of agnostic physicists remain open to interpretations of the data that include God. They're willing to follow the data wherever it leads.

Christians should take notes. For a people claiming to have an intimate relationship with the One who is the source of all truth, we can come across as anxious, reactionary, and defensive about our beliefs. In a line from a new U2 song called “Stand Up Comedy,” Bono sings, “Stop helping God across the road like a little old lady.” It’s as if we don’t trust God enough to pursue truth without an agenda. We treat our faith like a game of Jenga. If the results of our exploration don't line up with the rest of our theology, we fear that all of our beliefs will tumble. Physicists trust the data to lead them to greater knowledge. Why can’t we trust God to lead us to truth?

P.S. Physicists recently discovered Satan in a jar of sun butter.

I will punch your "sun butter" in the face.

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 03:24:00 +0000

I will punch your “sun butter” in the face.

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 03:17:00 +0000

A kid in my daughter’s 4th grade class is allergic to peanuts, so now my nine year old cannot take peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to school. I do not want to seem unfeeling or cold hearted towards the afflicted, but ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!? Grade school without peanut butter is like NASCAR without wheels. Or worse… beer! It’s just part of it.

1 out of 830,000 school-age children will die from peanut allergies this year. That is one more than is acceptable, for sure, but according to the New York State Department of Health, “at least one child dies every five days from choking on food.”

Hmmm. Milk shakes for everyone!

Oh, wait… I know a girl in kindergarten who is lactose intolerant. “Sorry, sweetheart… But would you care for a nice glass of refreshing water? We’ll dissolve an iron pill in it…”

While we’re at it…

I am allergic to pet dander. I think you should kill your puppy.

7300 Days and Counting Without Demonic Incident

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 23:16:25 +0000

7300 Days and Counting Without Demonic Incident

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 22:57:00 +0000

Alert O.S.H.A., it’s been roughly 20 years since demons were last cast out of me. That’s a heckuva safety record. While you’re up, contact my car insurance provider. When I get behind the wheel, there are fewer drivers involved. That’s got to be worth some discount to my premium.

I was barely in my twenties and Jody had blue doe eyes that made me forget my name. At the time I mistook her attention for her being into me, but now I think that her church needed a keyboard player. She asked me if I’d join the praise band and I was powerless to refuse. It was those blue eyes. She also talked about spirituality in terms that my Hebrew, Greek, and Old Testament professors never used. She talked about wanting to “get to the next level” and to “break into the Throne Room of God.” She wore her deep blue eyes as she said these things.

I joined the band and learned their songs that asked God for more love and more power. We sang songs that lifted imagery from Isaiah, The Song of Songs, and, sometimes, Peter Cetera.

After few months, the senior pastor and the worship leader invited me out of lunch to “get to know me better.” After a few minutes of introduction, the pastor leaned forward, dropped the register of his voice and asked me what my angle was. I wasn’t sure what he meant but I was sure he didn’t want hear about depth of Jody’s eyes. I mumbled something about keyboards and his unique teaching. He scanned my eyes and noted that he never saw me “using the gifts of the Spirit.” I wondered if he viewed me as a threat somehow, and despite the fact that he was twice my age, had a mortgage, a car, and a pulpit. I chewed quickly and hoped the inquisition would come to a quick close.

That Saturday evening, the school psychologist knocked on my door and gave me an assignment. I was a Resident Assistant and one of my guys needed help. Dave had been suffering insomnia for the greater part of the week and was experiencing hallucinations. The counselor explained that Dave had looked in the mirror and thought his reflection was mocking him. Dave snapped and trashed his room. The counselor believed that Dave had his cathartic moment and could be able to sleep, but I needed to spend the night in his room just to be sure.

I walked into Dave’s room and saw broken glass, blood, broken drawers, books, and clothes scattered across the room. Dave was embarrassed and glad I was there. I was pretty sure I hadn’t signed up for this. Dave was just a cheeseburger shy of 300 lbs. What if he hallucinated again and thought I was a threat? Dave could have done some serious damage to stick-figured frame. But the counselor was right; Dave went right to sleep. But I laid on my sleeping bag with both eyes open most of the night.

The next day, I went to church to fulfill my duties at the keyboard with puffy eyes. I returned to me seat and promptly fell fast asleep. I woke up to the pastor, the worship leader and about twenty other were hovering over me begging Jesus to cast the demon of slumber from my soul. It must have worked. I was wide awake and more than a little self-conscious. I wasn’t sure how to handle their misguided attention. Was I expected to shout praises or break into tongues? I considered my options but was relieved when they swarmed to cast out the devils that were apparent harassing a suburban housewife sitting 4 rows down.

The weirdness of that morning was lost in the pace of college life. I return from church, took a long nap, and then threw myself into the books. It took me a few more trips to the church before I grasped that I was being labeled and marginalized because I was unwilling or unable to conform. God didn't give me "The Baptism" like he had the rest of the crew, so I had to go.

This labeling happens all the time in our politics, high school, and churches of all stripes. The church of my childhood knew how to stiff arm Democrats with ease. Perhaps God knew I was thick and needed to be on the receiving end of an impromptu exorcism to begin to teach me about the dangers of demonizing others.

EDIT: Just to be clear, I'm not making ANY theological statements about the gifts other than these: 1) I didn't have a demon in me; 2) and God hadn't and still hasn't given me those gifts. I'm not putting down anyone's theology and I'm not gearing up to debate the issue. This is a post about how we label others.

Regarding the Impending Socialist Takeover… Herring Anyone?

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 20:10:15 +0000

The Facts Matter in the healthcare debate. Here’s Fact #1 in my view: the rabid conservative response to health care reform is a bona-fide red herring. According to this site, a Red Herring is a fallacy in which an irrelevant topic is presented in order to divert attention from the original issue. The basic idea [...]

Regarding the Impending Socialist Takeover… Herring Anyone?

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 18:33:00 +0000

The Facts Matter in the healthcare debate.

Here's Fact #1 in my view: the rabid conservative response to health care reform is a bona-fide red herring.

According to this site,

a Red Herring is a fallacy in which an irrelevant topic is presented in order to divert attention from the original issue. The basic idea is to "win" an argument by leading attention away from the argument and to another topic. This sort of "reasoning" has the following form:

Topic A is under discussion.
Topic B is introduced under the guise of being relevant to topic A (when topic B is actually not relevant to topic A).
Topic A is abandoned.

In the recent health care "debate" the discussion has been hijacked with the use of well-played euphemisms, lies, and misinformation that distort the reality and the intent of the health care reform bills being considered in Congress. Rather than talking about the facts of the proposed program we are discussing:

"death boards"
euthenasia
socialism
government take-over of the whole country (according to Today's Christian Coalition representative on Warren Olney's To The Point radio program)

And, to my embarrassment, these fallacies are being pushed forth most strongly by Christians.

Isn't it time we had a civil d-e-b-a-t-e and discussion rather than misinformation and shouting? We should be standing up and speaking about our beliefs with people who differ from us, not holding so strongly to our lines that we miss the opportunity to understand the real concerns and positions of the people who we disagree with.

It's time for Christians on all sides to treat each other with respect, and that means first and foremost, listening to the other as we would wish to be listened to. Enough is really enough.

Burnside Readers Collective

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 16:05:24 +0000

Relevant Online asked me a few days ago if I could write an article on the best books of 2009 so far. But rather than compile a list that reflected only my own limited tastes, I asked a few regular contributors to the BWC to write a paragraph or two about some of their recent [...]

Burnside Readers Collective

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 14:58:00 +0000

Dave Zimmerman on "Flickering Pixels," by Shane Hipps
Chad Gibbs on "The End is Now," by Rob Stennett
Brock Pattison (yes, relation) on "The Unlikely Disciple," by Kevin Roose
Bryan Allain on "Pocket Guide to the Apocalypse," by Jason Boyett
Tim McGeary on "Angry Conversations with God," by Susan E. Isaacs
Dan Gibson on "The End of Overeating," by Dr. David Kessler
Bob Ham on "Bicycle Diaries," by David Byrne
Sara Sterley on "Shop Class as Soulcraft," by Matthew B. Crawford

Then leave a comment (here or there) with one or two of your own favorites from the first half of 2009. Happy reading.

The Best Fest in the Midwest

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 17:07:01 +0000

No, it’s not Lollapalooza. Don’t get me wrong, there were some great acts there this past weekend. Most of which you should have seen on their fall tours in 2007. Andrew Bird, Bon Iver, Fleet Foxes and Animal Collective are great, but not while you’re crowded by thousands of sweaty people in 95 degree heat. [...]

The Best Fest in the Midwest

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 16:50:00 +0000

No, it's not Lollapalooza.

Don't get me wrong, there were some great acts there this past weekend. Most of which you should have seen on their fall tours in 2007. Andrew Bird, Bon Iver, Fleet Foxes and Animal Collective are great, but not while you're crowded by thousands of sweaty people in 95 degree heat. These are acts that need walls. Spaciousness is for U2 and Coldplay, not indie rock.

I found a festival that plans on doing indie rock right. It's like a mix between Pitchfork Fest and SXSW. It's called Pygmalion.

It's comparable to Pitchfork because of the lineup. A few mainstays and a swarm of up-and-comers fill the slots. The big names are Iron and Wine, Low, The Books, RJD2 and Ra Ra Riot. The up-and-comers are many: YACHT, Japandroids, Wavves, Lymbyc Systym, The Antlers, The Daredevil Christopher Wright, the 1900s and many more. And then there are a bunch of Asthmatic Kitty related acts like My Brightest Diamond, Denison Witmer, Jookabox and Liz Janes (no Sufjan though).

It's comparable to SXSW because of the venue(s). Pygmalion takes place over the course of four days, within the various clubs and venues that can be found on and around the campus of the University of Illinois. A college town, and home to the Polyvinyl record label, it's one of America's most beautiful campuses in the autumn. And even if it does happen to be a record-setting 90 degree day in September, it'll be cooler inside the clubs.

So it's basically indie rock as it should be. Dark venues, close proximities and inexpensive shows. So to all of the Midwesterners, make the road trip to Champaign-Urbana for September 16-19. (Sorry if you already blew your summer concert money on Lollapalooza this weekend...)

I'll be covering the fest for Burnside, complete with interviews, photos and reviews. Thanks to Jessica at Pitch Perfect. She did a great job promoting Pitchfork Fest a few weeks ago, and I'm excited that she'll be working for Pygmalion this year too. Folks, I'm telling you... Best Fest in the Midwest.

For the entire lineup of artists, check out Pygmalion's website.

For schedule updates, check the Pygmalion blog.

Burnside Fantasy Football League

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 16:59:20 +0000

We’re looking to fill 6 slots in our annual Burnside fantasy football league. If you’re interested, let us know in the comments. I won the championship last year. I thought you should know this. Read the original post on The Burnside Writers Blog

Burnside Fantasy Football League

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 16:57:00 +0000

We're looking to fill 6 slots in our annual Burnside fantasy football league. If you're interested, let us know in the comments.

I won the championship last year. I thought you should know this.

A Currency of Destruction

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 20:22:22 +0000

A friend of a friend, Michael Westmoreland, said something today that slowed me down and made my heart beat a little faster. He said, “64 years ago today, the United States dropped an atomic bomb on the civilian city of Nagasaki, Japan. Ironically, while both the pilot and bombardier were Catholics, ground zero was the [...]

A Currency of Destruction

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 19:46:00 +0000

A friend of a friend, Michael Westmoreland, said something today that slowed me down and made my heart beat a little faster. He said, "64 years ago today, the United States dropped an atomic bomb on the civilian city of Nagasaki, Japan. Ironically, while both the pilot and bombardier were Catholics, ground zero was the steeple of the largest Catholic Church and monastic community in Asia. May we use the day for redicating ourselves to a world without weapons of mass destruction and without the insanity of war."

Which reminds me of a song by my curly-haired-pontificating-harmonica-playing-best-friend named Bob Dylan titled “Masters of War.” Which then leads me to another song of his; the chilling re-thought of rhetoric entitled “With God on Our Side.”

And staying within the realms of this post but going along with the theme of homosexuality that’s been swirling around here my friend Alex once suggested that just maybe it’s better to be a Christian homosexual than a Christian soldier. A scandalous thought to some, I’m sure. Your thoughts please.

Meditations: Why Did Jesus Free Us?

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 19:28:00 +0000

The pastor the next office over had page-a-day calendar of famous "Bushism's"-- W.'s famous misspeaks. For 365 days I'd come to work and pause to read the gaffe of the day before settling in to work.

By the grace of God, nobody is following me around the office with a pen, capturing the fruit of my thick tongue.

I expect badly formed sentences anyone who has microphone stuck in front of his or her face for any length of time. It's inevitable. But I don't expect to see an apparent clunker of a sentence in the inspired word of God. But there is was, staring at me in Galatians 5:1...

"It was for freedom that Christ set us free."

Yeah, Paul, and "the key to good teaching is teachers."

Paul's not big on circular reasoning. There had to be good reason for him to drop this looping tautology on his readers. I suspect Paul hit the point of exasperation and willing to risk insulting the intelligence of his readers. The Galatians were willing to set trade in freedom in Christ for the opportunity to embrace ceremonial laws of the neighboring Jews. Paul, being a Jew, was baffled-- the Jews weren't even able to keep these rules, so why would the Gentiles sign on to their ethical program?

My friend David and I were wrestling with this issue over coffee, trying to get some clarity; How could we know if we were using our freedom in Christ well. We looked at Peter and Paul's debate just a few chapters earlier.

Peter insisted that the Gentile's convert to Judaism before they could be welcomed into Christian fellowship. His brand of spirituality:

--equated adhering to religious heritage with following God;
--used traditions as the template to measure who could or who could not be considered part of the New Humanity.

In short, Peter advocated that the Galatians were free to trade one set of religious rules for another; not abundant life but abundant lists.

Paul on the other hand, spells out freedom in a far less concrete manner:

For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."

Freedom in Christ then, is freedom from lists, rules, and the never ending spate of principles that pastors offer instead of the Gospel. Paul is offering us the freedom to read our surroundings, to read our Scripture, to be led by the Holy Spirit and to take our best stab at what a loving response might be in the moment.

We are free to create love.

Focus on the Family: APA and Ex-Gay Ministries

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 07:46:26 +0000

Focus on the Family: APA and Ex-Gay Ministries

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 06:48:00 +0000

This past week, the American Psychological Association declared their opposition to the theory that homosexual people can be “fixed” by reparative therapy like that used in Exodus and other ex-gay ministries.

The definitive statements came from the board’s examination of dozens of case studies in changing sexual orientation, reaching as far back as 1960. The APA reports that “no solid evidence exists that such change is likely… and some research suggests that efforts to produce change could be harmful, inducing depression and suicidal tendencies.”

The APA went on to address homosexuals who are a part of faith communities that do not affirm their sexual orientation, and gives advice to the therapists who may counsel patients with this problem.

“The Westword,” Denver’s hippest source for news and culture, keeps a surprisingly close eye on the (dare I say) not-so-hip “Focus on the Family.” They ran this article yesterday, saying that FOTF and other anti-gay ministries are likely not to heed the APA’s suggestions, but will continue their both futile and sometimes harmful attempts to help people changing their sexual orientation.

Also, read the entire APA findings in PDF here.

He fought for 7 days…

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 16:47:27 +0000

I don’t quite know how to say this and it feels unright (yes, a made up word), to put this on the internet. But Ryan fought hard for 7 days and today his body just couldn’t take it anymore. Thank you, for those of you who were praying for his recovery. Now, we are asking [...]

He fought for 7 days…

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 16:43:00 +0000

I don't quite know how to say this and it feels unright (yes, a made up word), to put this on the internet.

But Ryan fought hard for 7 days and today his body just couldn't take it anymore.

Thank you, for those of you who were praying for his recovery. Now, we are asking for prayers on our own behalf. For peace, for understanding, for grace. Please pray for my sister, Dawn, and her children. Today is her son's birthday, Caleb turned 8 today.
Ryan was going to turn 34 in a few weeks. And in October they would have celebrated their 9 year anniversary.

Thank you for your prayers, please continue...

Goodbye, Mr. Hughes

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 06:26:29 +0000

John Hughes died today. The director of Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Breakfast Club, and Planes Trains & Automobiles was only 59. My acting career high point occurred courtesy John Hughes, in Planes Trains & Automobiles. I played John Candy’s wife, Marie. You never do see Marie, only her photo. Del carries the [...]

Goodbye, Mr. Hughes

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 06:22:00 +0000

John Hughes died today. The director of Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, The Breakfast Club, and Planes Trains & Automobiles was only 59.

My acting career high point occurred courtesy John Hughes, in Planes Trains & Automobiles. I played John Candy's wife, Marie. You never do see Marie, only her photo. Del carries the photo around with her; he talks to it. It's sitting on the bedside table when John Candy and Steve Martin are sleepily snuggled in that motel bed, hand between two pillows...
Those aren't pillows!
Actually, This is my favorite line from PT&A
Neal: [riding in back of pickup truck in freezing cold] What do you think the temperature is?
Del: One.

I was 23 and just out of college. I'd earned the trust of a casting office, so they brought me in. They took my Polaroid; the director wanted someone who could pass for really young and innocent. I got the job. I was just going to shoot a series of photos. An early 1960s high school graduation photo (the one you see) but also a string of photos: Del and Marie on vacation, Del and Marie at Christmas, et al. Del would flip these photos out of his wallet and bore Neal (Steve Martin).

Back then I was unafraid and full of ideas. So I started to send "Del" letters to the set on location and signed them Marie. I sent Del cards. I told him to be well as he sold his shower curtains. I guess Mr Hughes liked my creativity. He decided to put me on camera.

I went to the Paramount lot and we filmed improvised scenes, just me and John Candy. Del and Marie at Thanksgiving. We did a couple Thanksgiving dinners. It was at the very end of the shoot. They were so strapped for time they were actually filming scenes with Steve Martin on the other side of the sound stage, so we had to keep it sorta quiet. I spent a lot of time in John Candy's trailer, talking to him about the business. John Candy was a sweetheart. I don't remember much about Steve Martin. But I remember Mr. Hughes. He was a very nice man.

A month before the movie came out I was scheduled to do ADR (automatic dialog replacement) where you redo the audio because the sound wasn't so great. Maybe we were being too quiet for Steve Martin's corner of the sound stage.

They had a special premier at Paramount. I brought a friend. At the very end of the film, Neal is sitting on the train platform and thining back on everything Del has said. Cut to: Del alone. He's thinking back on Thanksgiving with Marie, and then you have the flashback to Del and Marie having Thanksgiving. Cut back to Neal. He realizes Del is alone.

Only, no flashback. Just Del alone, then back to Neal. I was cut from the film. I was crushed. The fundamentalist Nazi church counselor I'd just fired predicted God's judgment would descent upon me for removing her authority in my life. The film editor said it happened all the time, just like Kevin Costner in "The Big Chill." He told me not to worry. My time would come.

Well my time went and never really came. That PT&A photo is my one shot at cinematic immortality (okay and Seinfeld). John Hughes went too. He left Hollywood. Rumor had it he didn't like the way Hollywood treated people: he blamed them for working Candy to death. And he didn't like the way Hollywood was starting to warp his sons' ideas about reality. So moved to Chicago where he hoped his family could live like normal people He occasionally wrote under a pen name. I don't think those scripts were so good.

I hoped he would return to Hollywood some day. My motives were selfish: I wanted him to come back and do a director's cut of Planes Trains & Automobiles and include my scenes.

That hope came to an end today on a Manhattan street. John Hughes collapsed from cardiac arrest and died. He was 59. He was in Manhattan to see family. You see, he had one. He even had grandchildren at age 59. That tells me, he raised his sons right: they were healthy enough to grow up and into adulthood and have their own children; rather than follow Hollywood's directive and extend adolescence up until the time Medicare kicks in.

I just read a blog written by a woman who started corresponding to Mr. Hughes when she was in high school. Mr. Hughes went above and beyond the call of answering fan mail. He became a friend and mentor. Please please please read it. It might restore your faith in humanity. And if you're like me, you will repent of any selfish desire you had for Mr Hughes to go back to La La Land.

My friend Stel posted this video from YouTube. Teenage Wasteland according to Mr. Hughes.

Goodbye sir. Make good movies in heaven. We'll want some entertainment when we get there.

Plane Crash in Kenya

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 20:31:52 +0000

Plane Crash in Kenya

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 16:07:00 +0000

My sister Dawn and her husband Ryan Williams are missionaries with Africa Inland Mission (AIM). They live in Nairobi, Kenya with their four children: Caleb (8), Levi (6), Seth (4) and Chloe (2.5). Ryan is a Flight Engineer (mechanic) for the AIM AIR fleet. The mission of AIM AIR is to support missionaries and ministries throughout East Africa. If you have ever been to Africa then you know how bad the roads are. Many missionaries live hours away from the city and it can take days to get to their homes. AIM AIR manages a fleet of small aircraft that transports missionaries and supplies to small villages throughout their Region. Their motto is "Serving those who Serve" and they do it with excellence.

Ryan works full-time at the hangar while Dawn works full-time at home, caring for their children and running the home. Together they live on a compound with other missionary families. The compound is filled with support staff, pilots, mechanics, and happy children. It is a very close-knit community.

Dawn's best friend, Tiffany and her husband Frank, live on the same compound. Frank is a pilot for AIM AIR while Tiffany works full-time at home, caring for their four children.

On Saturday, August 1, 2009, Frank and Ryan took 2 photographers from Conversant Life for a plane ride over Kibera, one of the largest slums in Africa. The back door of the plane was removed so that the photographers could get great shots of the slum. Near the end of the flight the engine stalled and while Frank was trying to glide the plane to an unexpected landing along a road, the wing of the craft clipped some telephone wires. The plane flipped over, crashed into a building, and fell three stories to the ground, engulfed in flames.

Frank died.

Ryan, my brother-in-law, was pulled from the aircraft just a few minutes before the plane exploded.

The other two passengers assisted in saving the life of our dear Ryan. They themselves suffered injuries but are doing well in a Nairobi Hospital.

Ryan suffered lacerations on his face, 40-50% of his body is covered with 2nd and 3rd degree burns. He also suffers from a broken left hip and a crushed pelvis. Yesterday Ryan was transported via a medical aircraft to Jo'burg, South Africa to receive further care.

These last few days have been days of chaos. We are all in mourning for Frank and his family. I cannot begin to imagine how they are doing. Frank's Memorial Service will be Tuesday, August 11th in Nairobi.

As for our family, we are in shock. Ryan is a stubborn fighter and for this I am thankful. He works with this hands, tinkering and fixing things we didn't know were broken. He is an adoring father and husband and passionately in love with our Saviour, Jesus Christ. He is also a fantastic brother-in-law. We are lucky to have him in our family.

Yesterday his mother arrived in Nairobi and tomorrow my mother will join the Williams Family. The entire family has to fly to South Africa to join Ryan (and then eventually to the States? But I'm not sure). The Moms flew in to help Dawn pack up the entire house or put it in storage, to help care for the kids, and to support my sister as well as the community on the compound.

Just a few hours ago my mom called me with a new update on Ryan: he was put on Dialysis today to support his kidney function and is now considered unstable. Please pray with me for Ryan, for Dawn, and for Tiffany and her family.

And a few minutes ago my mom told me that Ryan was re-assessed today. The burns actually cover 70% of his body. Survival rate for burn victims greatly diminishes after 60% of their body is burned.

Please pray for all of us.

Websites for more info:
CNN Article
AIM AIR updates
Conversant Life

1/4 Time Crisis?

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 20:24:34 +0000

1/4 Time Crisis?

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 14:07:00 +0000

Someone sent me an article in the mail recently. It came (gasp) in an envelope, which had a stamp attached and my name written on it. The article was photocopied, and with it was a note that said something like this...

"My daughter, in her twenties, sent this to me, and told me that this is pretty much exactly how she and her friends feel..." The article is, "welcome to your quarterlife crisis". I'm not sure how I feel about the article, because I'm not sure how I feel about the now popular notion that people in their mid-twenties are facing a crisis, as if twentyfive is the new fifty when it comes to emotional health, in the same way that our new discoveries of olive oil, meditation, and exercise, are supposed to have turned fifty into the new thirty when it comes to physical health.

The author spells out the crisis at several levels; it's a career crisis because these people don't yet have a firm sense of direction; it's a relationship crisis because these people are marrying later; it's a money crisis because these people are amassing debt due to school loans, lust for travel, and a general void that's filled by spending. Here are the author's anecdotal illustrations of the angst:

He bikes to work at an advertising agency, where he uses his master’s in English to proofread ad copy, and spends several hours reading music blogs and watching movie trailers, periodically Twittering updates about his workday to his 74 followers. He doesn’t really hate his job, but feels as if his skin is crawling with vermin most of the time that he’s there, so he has a plan to move to Thailand, or to maybe write a book. Or go to law school.

At her government job, she instant messages her friends and mostly ignores the report she’s drafting because she’s planning on quitting anyway — and has been planning to quit for about a year now. She spends her lunch hour buying boots that cost slightly more than her rent, then immediately regrets it.

The article goes on to talk about the multi-faceted nature of the crisis, concluding by offering support resources ranging from credit counseling, to social networking, to career counseling. I finished reading the article, and immediately wanted to share several musings for your feedback and reaction.

1. Does the fact that things have changed mean that this is a crisis? Maybe, but I'm not sure. OK, so people are marrying later now than they were when I was in college. When I was in college, my generation was marrying later than when our parents did. And the generation before that was even earlier. Debt? It's the same story. We carried more than our parents, and now our kids carry more than us. Part of me thinks this crisis is the product of baby-boomer's self-obsession. We're so self-referential that we think generations who don't do it like we did are somehow missing the mark. Narcissus would be proud of us, but I'm not sure this pathology even exists. Many, many of my friends in their twenties, though they've rejected the boomer's obsessions with upward mobility, and are often ambivalent about 'settling down', have a commitment to serving this broken world and making a difference that was decidely lacking in we, their parents. So perhaps we who are older need to lighten up and celebrate a new generation of adults who want to live meaningful, creative lives, and whose commitments to that make them marry a little later, change jobs a bit more often, and have a few more adventures. Personally, I admire and respect this new generation. Their energy, creativity, and authenticity inspire me.

2. On the other hand, it's possible that I'm idealizing this new generation and completely missing the mark. Maybe they are, in fact, self-absorbed, commitment phobic, and lacking any kind of ethical north star to ground them in commitments. It's even possible that both observations are true; there's greatness and new challenges.

3. If the artcile has any measure of accuracy, I'd want to offer the following bits of advice to this emerging generation:

A. I don't blame you for being a bit commitment shy, considering what we, your parents did to the notion of marriage, not to mention our propensity to put 'cash first', with the result that we sometimes remained stuck in soul sucking careers as means of paying homage to our pursuit of the "good life" (mortgage, vacations, blah blah blah). However, the truth remains that it's there are some elements of our souls that will only ripen in the context of profound commitments like buying a house (commitment to place), getting married (commitment to intimacy), and commitment to your faith community (commitment to Jesus' mission). Don't just DO any of these things because of social pressures, but don't run from any of these things either. There's a need, at some point, to jump in the water.

B. A rich storehouse of intimacy with Christ, and an ordering of life according the time honored practices of the faith, provide a rich center, out from which direction and guidance will come. Become a traveler of these ancient paths and you're more likely to be Gandalf at the end of your story than Gollum.

There's more that could be said, but I wrote primarily to hear from you, so please help me by responding:

1. Is this quarter life crisis real?
2. How does it show up?
3. What can we who are older offer?

On Existence and Shit

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 11:47:59 +0000

My friend Krystal Lambert posed a pressing question in a text message tonight. She said, “Umm excuse me.Could you please tell me what it all means,” I asked for clarification and she replied, “existence and shit?” To be honest, I can taste her question. It is stale bread. It cracks and breaks in your hand [...]

On Existence and Shit

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 10:54:00 +0000

Krystal, I recently read this by Thomas Merton in a letter he wrote to a friend, “Can I tell you that I have found answers to the questions that torment the man of our time? I do not know if I have found answers. When I first became a monk, yes, I was more sure of “answers.” But as I grow old in the monastic life and advance further into solitude, I become aware that I have only begun to seek the questions. And what are the questions? Can man makes sense out of his existence? Can man honestly give his life meaning merely by adopting a certain set of explanations which pretend to tell him why the world began and where it will end, why there is evil and what is necessary for a good life? . . . I have been summoned to explore a desert area of man’s heart in which explanations no longer suffice, and in which one learns that only experience counts. An arid, rocky, dark land of the soul that is sometimes illuminated by strange fires which men fear and which men studiously avoid except in their nightmares. And in this area I have learned that one cannot truly know hope unless he has found out how like despair hope is.”

Krystal, as you know, I have a Bachelors in Biblical Literature. And with that I can tell you about how the Greek of 1-Peter is better than the Greek of 2-Peter. I can tell you about how small the Hebrew language is compared to the English language . . . and then tell you that it is more dynamic. As one author puts it, the Hebrew language is Volcanic. It erupts and explodes. It bellows and hovers. With a single syllable it can sear your heart . . . it can destroy your whole life and make your bones tremble. I can tell you about how Jesus is the most untouchable soul in the universe and at the same time about how he is the most touched. I can tell you about how I believe in miracles based on the fact that I believe in the Jews and how I am baffled that they survived the violent forceps of history (Where are the Hittites? Show me one Hittite in New York City–Walker Percy). I can tell you about how it is better to give than to receive. I can tell you that the Kingdom of God is absurd and foolish and that it is upside down and backwards. I can tell you the importance of conserving the earth, of promoting peace over war, of justifying the plight of the poor, of re-discovering the arts. I can tell you about how we are wired for community, friends and family. I can tell you about how man is the most despicable, base, arrogant and prideful creature on this earth and I can also tell you about how man is the most glorious, angelic and humble creature on this earth.

I can tell you a lot. But for some reason I can’t tell you what I’m going to do with my life. I can only say in a Robert Frost kind of way that two roads will diverge in a yellow wood and I suspect that I’ll be sorry in the end because I could not take both. And perhaps one will be better than the other but I can’t say with certainty at this point because up ahead both ways tapper off out of sight. And I know that the decision I make now will make all the difference in the end. But now I must be vulnerable and take one step in one direction. But I’m not sure which and that kind of scares me.

I’ve been a lot of places in this world and taken a lot of steps with a lot of people. But for the first time in my life I am alone. I have always had at least one solid friend around me at nearly every step in my life . . . be that Andy, Cole, Bryan, Tyler, Krista, Scott and most recently Solomon. I am deeply grateful for all of them and I am jealous of their lives. I don’t want to be sappy here but love is a big word and love is appropriate for what I feel for them. But now I am alone. My friend has just left, my apartment is empty, my job is unfulfilling and my bike is carrying someone else. I’m alone. In a big city. Eating stale bread. And telling you the things I know and the things I don’t.

Krystal, I didn’t answer your question. Like Merton, I used to know the answer but now I’m beginning to understand the question. And I suspect that your question ages much like wine. Over the years it will ferment and expand. Keep asking and you'll have a fine drink on your hands. Just promise that you'll pour a glass for two.

Old Men and Words

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 03:48:34 +0000

I spent last week without looking at a computer screen once. I think it’s what old hymn writers referred to as “a foretaste of glory divine.” Seriously. In place of the screen, I read a book; no, not a Kindle, a book – Young Men and Fire by Norman Maclean. The book’s heart is the [...]

Old Men and Words

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 03:36:00 +0000

The book’s heart is the Mann Gulch fire of August 5, 1949. Fifteen of our nation’s best smokejumpers stepped into the Montana sky that day; all but three of our best perished. The catastrophe was over in less than two hours. The book’s eyes are those of Maclean. What the man with a river running through him came to see overwhelmed the last fourteen years of his life.

Norman Maclean searched for “the carefully measured grains of consolation needed to transform catastrophe into tragedy.” Tragedy - what Maclean regarded as “the most composed art form.”

I fit the numerous impressions this story had on me in my mind’s Yahtzee cup, gave it a swirl, and rolled a 2:

1) 1)Maclean wrote the words in a different time zone: slow time. Authors these days complete a manuscript in six to nine months; often, these days, it shows. Maclean’s language is redolent; the smell of allowing words and phrases to audition for fourteen years and in the end, only the best took the stage. I read Krakauer’s Into Thin Air, written immediately upon descending from catastrophe on Everest. Krakauer wrote breathless; Maclean wrote beautiful.

2) 2)“…catastrophe into tragedy” is now a phrase that haunts me like waters. Be it elite smokejumpers trying to outrun a fire and losing the race or children dying daily for lack of clean water, catastrophe threatens to burn the oxygen from our lives, causing us not so much to doubt there is a God, but to doubt whether in this cockeyed world that God is good. Can we, those of us who believe we are storytellers and poets and preachers and minstrels and dancers, can we look for those “measured grains” and take the slow time to tell those tales? For, as the old man says, “A story that honors the dead realistically partly atones for their sufferings.” In our victorious triumphalism, we seek to save the world. Could it be that we are asked not so much to save the world, but to tell the world’s stories and "take care not to lie or be sentimental"? That is a question only answered, I believe, in slow time.

The Game

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 13:42:37 +0000

The Game

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 13:33:00 +0000

I left church and headed drove to a nearby sports bar with the big screen TVs. I’m a Philadelphia Eagles fan living in a TV market carved up by the Bills, Steelers, and Browns, so there are time the only way to watch the game it to invest in some greasy wings and a tall drink. The sacrifices sports’ fans make.

I found a seat and then John found me. My heart sunk. I knew where the next hour was going. John had some legitimate struggles with the Christian message. The problem (for me anyway) is that he processed these struggles by debating someone. And since I was one of the pastors at his church, I represented a serviceable proxy for the God he really wanted to have it out with. John left the sermon energized with a list of questions and counterarguments. As I rule, I leave church drained of adrenaline. I’m an introvert by nature. So after a morning of hand shaking, smiling, welcoming guests, and trouble shooting anything that went off wrong in the kid’s wing, I’m left with the mental acuity of a dishrag. I’ve got nothing left in the tank for theological sparring. Following along with a former lineman narrating the game is about all the challenge I can handle between the hours of 1-4 PM on Sundays. I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned this to John once or twice.

John didn’t wait for an invitation and sat down between me and the big screen.

“So about the sermon—“

“-- The one I didn’t preach? I think Derek is watching the game somewhere.”

“So Jesus is supposedly the only way to heaven and if you don’t give him the nod something during the course of your 60-80 year old life then you’re cut out of Heaven forever. This doesn’t seem like the plan of a loving God, not when the world is filled with evil that colors our view of God. And not in a world where most people have never heard of Jesus.”

I glanced at the screen. McNabb to Jackson. The Eagles were driving.

“Look, John. Jesus didn’t mince words. He said that was the way to God and nobody has access to the Father apart from him. That’s exactly the reason why God is so big on us taking evangelism seriously. Because of exactly the stakes you just described.”

“That’s not good enough, Larry, and you know it. The Great Commission is fine and all but millions of people throughout history have not heard of Jesus, and if your interpretation of the Gospel is correct, they are not going to Heaven.”

3rd and 15. The Eagles need this play.

I could play the free will card. I studied John’s face and wondered if this would satisfy Him. If not, then I’d be out the third quarter. I had nothing to lose. John had a head of steam on him that wasn’t going away and that couldn’t be redirected to more weightier issues, like whether the Eagles could salvage their season and get to the playoffs again.

“God gives us a free will—“

“—so our worship means something to him; so we’re not just robots programmed to praise God! Do you hear how selfish that sounds?” John reached over grabbed my fork and started to drum the table with it to punctuate his next point. “God had another choice. He could have chosen to not create knowing that giving people free will would lead to so much evil on this earth and ultimately lead to countless people being eternally separated from him.”

Interception. Washington’s ball.

So much for the Free Will defense. I believe it to be true, but offering a description of how the world works isn’t the same thing as me understanding why it works. It’s definitely not an exoneration of God. I don’t particularly like the fact that in our world some people seem to be born right into the ideal circumstances to get acquainted with Jesus while other are born obvious to their savior. I struggle with the fact that everyone is accountable for what they do with Jesus whether or not they’ve gotten to read the bill of goods.

“John, let me cut to the chase. I’ve come to believe that theodicy isn’t possible. There’s simply too many pieces of the puzzle that aren’t on the table. All that’s left is to look at the puzzle pieces we have and decide that can trust or not trust God. And that’s not much of a philosophical argument, I know—“

“You’re right. When you start to scrutinize your beliefs and God starts to look immoral or illogical, it’s a cop out to throw your hands up in the air and appeal to greater unknown mysteries.”

I picked up a cold, spicy wing and gnawed on it for a moment. John and I had gone around this bush so many times before that we could recite each other’s positions. He had legitimate objections and I remained tethered to my understanding of scripture.

“It might be a copout, John. But it’s all I’ve got. There’s another way to look at this. God has given you some of the pieces of the puzzle and based on the pieces you have you don’t think you like the picture that’s being built. It’s just as much a copout to throw those pieces away and pretend you never saw them.”

“I don’t have the answers you need. I do have room temperature wings and a big screen to offer you. You in?

I drove home thinking about John’s objections. My questions come from within Christianity and assume that the revelation in the Bible is correct. His questions, even though he is decidedly a Christ follower, come from the posture of standing outside of Christianity and attempting to evaluate it on it’s logical basis. I don’t think less of John for his questioning, just his timing for when he questions. He’s certainly owned the more difficult line of inquiry.

Jesus seems like he’s the gift given to a select few fortunate enough to be born into the right hemisphere and family.

I have a friend who managed to survive massive layoffs at his workplace. When I heard the news of the purge I gave him a call to check on him. Joel had survivor’s guilt. He couldn’t understand how it was that he made the cut. He didn’t have the most seniority on staff. He had researched some other similar businesses on the Internet who were undergoing layoffs and learned that his position was usually among the first to be cut. Joel was so bewildered that he still had a job that he called his bosses to ask why.

I think I have some of that survivor’s guilt on a spiritual level. I have a hard time tolerating the fact that I was born into a Christian home while another child was born into the Soviet block with a scant chance of ever holding a Bible.

I have high view of scripture, believe and want to believe the Story, but sometimes struggle the rules of the game.

Purpose-Driven Centrist: How do experience God?

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 18:27:52 +0000

Purpose-Driven Centrist: How do experience God?

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 18:00:00 +0000

In my last column, I wrote about some analysis of the centering of beliefs within the re-formation period Christianity is arguably going through currently. That centering includes how people are experiencing God is different ways than were available or organized even 20 years ago. To gather some less-than-scientific research, I have put together a short 10-question survey that I'm hoping many (ALL!) of you will fill out.

Click Here to take survey

This survey is completely anonymous, and only very basic demographic information is asked. Thank you in advance!

A Lesson Before Dying

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 17:21:30 +0000

by guest contributor Matt Worthington There are a lot of things I don’t know about my Dad. I was 13 when he left, and I didn’t see him again until I graduated college this past December. He had left our family for another one–my brother’s girlfriend’s family to be exact. I know it’s a little [...]

A Lesson Before Dying

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 17:04:00 +0000

by guest contributor Matt Worthington

There are a lot of things I don’t know about my Dad. I was 13 when he left, and I didn’t see him again until I graduated college this past December. He had left our family for another one--my brother’s girlfriend’s family to be exact. I know it’s a little Jerry Springerish, but for a woman and her four sons, it was nothing less than paralyzing for us. When someone disappears for ten years, they start to become fuzzy in your brain, but what’s leftover doesn’t. So while the pain fester, you start to forget any good thing you once knew about them, and most positive memories become considerably concussed. For me, the pain is more of what his exile did to the rest of my family, not necessarily me. Manic depression. Suicide attempts. Low self-esteems. Starving bank accounts. Rapidly increasing debt. Each one of these deserves a period of their own because they’ve all been that bad in the past ten years. Crippling would be a kind description. So there’s no way around that when I think about my Dad. And to be honest, it’s hard to recover a relationship with that on the table.

But that’s the easiest thing I can do, just let everything good about him become a blur and start to focus on all of the pain he’s inflicted on my brothers, my mother, and I. Just forget any goodness he once had, you know? It’s easy to do that.

We have these phone conversations ever so often. And there’s these moments where he’ll be telling me about how he’s thinking about becoming a Mason, or how it’s really necessary to buy mullet fish if you’re going to fish off the pier in Corpus Christi, and then he’ll randomly break out into something honest. Two years ago he said this, and I wrote it down,

"I'm still your Dad, you know? I'm not just some biological dude who helped spawn you into the world. Once upon a time, you and I were real close. We knew each other. And I know, you were a young man way back and since then, you've changed. You've accomplished a lot. You're a man now, a different man. But I'm still your dad. I'm an ornery cuss, but I'm still your dad."

It's hard to feel like you have a dad after eight years of absence. Once upon a time, I was twelve, but now I'm twenty-one. Some things change and you have no choice over them. Somewhere along the line, I stopped feeling like I had a dad. Maybe I had a father, but not a dad.

Tonight, he was telling me about how when he was 14 and his Dad died, that he took his Dad’s pistol and shot all of his Dad’s ammo except for six bullets. He didn’t say why six bullets, instead he just immediately transitioned with,

“You know, I never really meant to leave you when you were 14, Matt. Things were hard for me, and I made decisions that made sense to me. And when I dropped you off at that Boy Scout camp, I knew that you’d be alright. I knew you’d come through. And you have. Hell, I know you haven’t seen your finest hour. But I never meant to leave you Matt and I’m sorry I did. I’m really sorry. I never meant to leave you.”

He’s 57 now. He’s aging. And obviously, he’s hurting. I’m not even sure he has real friends anymore. Honestly, I think this is the kind of that makes Jesus weep for us all: that we would justify withholding love and reconciliation from one another. For so long, though, I thought it was okay to not talk to him. I thought it was okay to withhold any friendship or sonship. I feel differently now. I think everyone deserves forgiveness. And I think everyone deserves to have friends, even if they disappeared for a decade.

That night, two years ago (not too long after the shooting at Virginia Tech), the last thing I wrote in that entry was this:

He asked me why I thought someone would shoot 32 people? I told him, "He probably didn't have any friends."

Julian’s foot gives despair the boot

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 13:19:27 +0000

Some weeks are harder than others and this past week, on the difficulty scale, was in the upper mid-range for me. The clash of theology and relationships; words misspoken, and misunderstood; friends, young and hospitalized; and enormous decisions in my work at a time when I feel tiny. These all came together in one beautiful, [...]

Spirit in the Material World: The Science of Homosexuality

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 21:42:21 +0000

I was going to write about statistics, causality, and Rosie O’Donnell, but homosexuality seems to be the fire-starter around here. Thought I’d throw on a little gasoline. I’m not going to discuss theological/spiritual explanations of homosexuality. That’s been done and is being done ad nauseum. Adding scientific theories about the etiology of homosexuality might enhance [...]

Other Gods Before Me….

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 19:53:17 +0000

I am not always myself. There are times when I am almost good. When I put others’ needs first. When I seek God’s will, and actually look for opportunities to share His love. I can be caring, giving, loving, and many other New Testament adjectives. But I’m not always like this, because there are times [...]

Beers at the White House: What Their Choices Say About the Men Involved

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 14:39:56 +0000

In case you hadn’t heard, these three guys are going to sip some brews at the White House today, and talk about race relations. If racism hasn’t been eradicated by the end of this little tete-a-tete (trete-a-trete?), it’s hard to believe it ever will. But what do each man’s beverage of choice say about their [...]

Inoculating Kids to the Great Commission

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 13:43:05 +0000

I help teach a Mix Martial Arts class at my church. It’s a free activity that we sponsor on Monday evenings. We’ve been running the course for a little over a year and have found that we’ve collected a wide variety of men. Some are Christ-followers. More are not. We’ve got middle aged men, teens, [...]

Open Letter to an Agent, Part II

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 07:22:25 +0000

Dear Agent – It’s been over a month since I pitched you my last idea, and I haven’t heard back from you. I’m sure you’re very busy. This is conference season. And I know the economy’s still not great, so I’ve been working on some easy-sale concepts for you. Here’s the idea – two zombies [...]

Coming Out of the Judgmental Closet

The Burnside Writers Blog — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 06:44:31 +0000

They invited me to dinner. Dan and Laura were friends of the family and dinner was an excuse to talk. They needed to be heard. Other than my mother, I was the only other person they had told. With a quivering lip he said, “I can’t walk my daughter down the aisle.” The ice in [...]

Closet Cases

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 14:22:34 +0000

The other day, Dear Prudence’s advice column on Slate.com featured a letter from a woman who, after 30 years of marriage, discovered her husband was gay. Here’s how she found out the first time: “My husband received a text message from a man saying that he was going to use him as a cover so [...]

Mediations: Learning to Improv

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 16:22:34 +0000

Last week I was on the phone with another pastor friend. My friend is in an interesting position. He’s about to be handed the job of lead pastor at his congregation, but he’s not sure he believes in church, at least not the way he’s seen it done before. The Barna Institute has compile a [...]

A Million Miles In A Thousand Years

The Burnside Writers Blog — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 14:04:00 +0000

A few weeks ago, Don Miller sent me one of his last drafts for A Million Miles In A Thousand Years. He asked if I would read it through and provide some quick chapter notes, so I did. By this point, Thomas Nelson has already sent out galleys for the book, but Don told me [...]

Friend or Frienemy?

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 19:49:28 +0000

If you didn’t know any better you’d think I have a ton of friends. Exactly 633 of them according to this morning’s Facebook tally, though I’m sure to have a few more by the time you read this.That’s a heck of a lot more than the 38 friends my husband has accumulated and even several [...]

Church Hopping: The Basilica of St. Mary, Minneapolis

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 14:40:55 +0000

Location: On Hennepin Avenue between 16th & 17th Streets in downtown Minneapolis, Minnesota Website: http://www.mary.org/ Blog: https://mybasilica.mary.org/NetCommunity/SSLPage.aspx?pid=401&dgs1225=0 Architect: Emmanuel Louis Masqueray was born in Dieppe, France, in 1861. After studying architecture at the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris, he moved to New York in 1887 to work for Carrere and Hastings. By 1893, he [...]

An Impossible Image

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 20:24:30 +0000

Watch The Photoshop Effect Her voice is a bit annoying but what she is saying is pertinent to who we are. A host of vices are perpetuated by these impossible images; eating disorders, pornography and other taboos that we all know about but seldom talk about. Why are we still pining for perfection? Read the [...]

Jimmy Carter Walks Away From the Southern Baptists

The Burnside Writers Blog — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 20:12:51 +0000

This week Former President Jimmy Carter broke ties with the Southern Baptist Church over its positions on the role of women in church leadership. President Carter noted that he could no longer in good conscience remain within the denomination. In an essay in The Age Journal , Carter wrote: “…its most repugnant, the belief that [...]

The story of my Beautiful tattoo.

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 22:07:50 +0000

I grew up ugly. For as long as I can remember I was teased for my looks. Throughout elementary school I was told by so many classmates that I was ugly, the ugly duckling, and anything else you can imagine. In fact, when I was in the 7th grade a boy told me, “You are so ugly that [...]

Growing Old with God

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 13:10:49 +0000

I call my mom tonight, both to say hello, and to talk to her about her upcoming party in September. You see, she’s turning 90, which means that she grew up in the great depression, married in the midst of the war, and raised my sister and I in the midst of Kennedy’s assassination, Vietnam, [...]

Just a hint of Jesus…

The Burnside Writers Blog — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 01:09:35 +0000

Lately, there seem to be a lot of people wanting to make an impact on this world for Jesus. Leadership gurus are wanting to impact the church. Student leaders, who evidently live 24/7, are mobilizing to impact the next generation. I’ve even heard certain artists who are writing or singing or something to impact the [...]

Spirit in the Material World: Character, Context, and Grace

The Burnside Writers Blog — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 16:27:22 +0000

In his book The Tipping Point, Malcom Gladwell describes an experiment where seminarians had thirty minutes to prepare a sermon on the parable of The Good Samaritan. The experimenters told half the group that they were running late and had to rush to another building. They told the other half that they had plenty of [...]

The Burnside Writers Blog — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 16:11:39 +0000

“Despite its protests to the contrary, modern Christianity has become willy-nilly the religion of the state and the economic status quo. Because it has been so exclusively dedicated to incanting anemic souls into heaven, it has, by a kind of ignorance, been made the tool of much earthly villainy. It has, for the most part, [...]