The Radioactive Prophet

My 3 year-old son loves the song "Radioactive" by Imagine Dragons. He wanders around the house singing it, he demands we play it on the radio regularly, and he asks to listen to it almost every night as his "bedtime song."

When I was hearing it for the 10,000th time last week (thankfully I really like the song, too), one of the lines struck me as familiar in a different way. In the buildup to the chorus, the lyrics sing "I feel it in my bones, enough to make my system blow." On this particular time, those words brought to mind Jeremiah 20:9: "God's word is inside me like a burning fire shut up in my bones. I cannot hold it in any longer" (emphasis mine).

Jeremiah was a prophet in the Old Testament who faced a lot of resistance from the powers that be (probably because he was bringing them bad news) and he speaks the words in 20:9 as part of a passage saying he wishes he could give up and go home, but God's pull on him is too strong, "enough to make his system blow."

As this thought struck me, it occurred to me that many of the lyrics in the song could be heard as the words of a prophet calling for change:
- "Welcome to the new age. Oh, I'm radioactive"
- "I raise my flag... It's a revolution, I suppose."
- "I'm waking up."
- "This is it, the apocalypse."
- There's even a reference to "the prison bus" and Jeremiah was imprisoned just before the quote in verse 9. (I know it's a stretch, but humor me.)

I don't think Imagine Dragons had Old Testament prophets in mind when they wrote the song, but I think it's a interesting way to think about following God. What if we were to imagine living in God's light as "a revolution," a "waking up" that "makes my system blow" and replaces it with something new? What if we expected the word of God to be radioactive, a force that burns inside us and contaminates and infects anyone or thing that gets close?

In my sermon this past week, I invited the church to imagine themselves as prophets, but I didn't paint it in terms of radioactivity and revolutions. Is that a terrifying or exciting idea? Certainly most of the prophets did not have beds of roses (actually none that come to mind), but they lived with a purpose and felt compelled to act and speak on behalf of God's people. What in your life gives you a burning sense of purpose and how could that be the spirit of God speaking to you in your bones?

"I'm breathing in the chemicals." -Imagine Dragons, "Radioactive"

(For more fun, try listening to Imagine Dragons' song "Demons" as a Psalm about sinfulness and imagine the line "I can't escape this now, unless you show me how" as a cry to God.)

In Gratitude to Nelson Mandela

Sometimes saints and heroes can function as a mirror that shows us our unkempt hair and smudged face and drives us to clean up the image of the person we see. Their excellence reminds us of our own imperfections, but simultaneously inspires us to work toward that excellence. I believe Nelson Mandela was such a person for much of the world, but certainly was for me.

Mandela has shown that Christian ideals such as forgiveness, loving your enemy, mercy, and compassion are not just good ideas, they are practical solutions. How often have we thought, "Sure, loving my enemy sounds good, but this is real life?" or "All that morality stuff is great for my personal life, but it doesn't work in politics or economics." What's particularly amazing to me is that Mandela at one time would have agreed. In the 1960s, he turned from non-violence and advocated violent acts as the only way to overturn the oppressive government. Love, peace, and compassion seemed an impossible path toward justice.

And yet, decades later, Mandela proved his younger self wrong.

By welcoming his opponents into his government, by refusing to seek revenge for decades of violence, and by introducing the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (by which many pro-apartheid leaders were granted amnesty in exchange for publicly confessing their crimes and listening to the testimonies of their victims), he managed to sooth much of the hatred and fear that had permeated the country for decades. In fact, one could argue that his insistence on forgiveness, peace making, and reconciliation worked better at creating a stable transition to democracy than any of the other examples we have in recent memory. (Just look at the struggles that Libya and Egypt are having today.)

Mandela would have been perfectly justified with pursuing a different route, one that demanded greater retribution from former oppressors, yet he found the strength to believe and embody the words of his compatriot, Archbishop Desmond Tutu: "Goodness is stronger than evil; love is stronger than hate; light is stronger than darkness; life is stronger than death." In so doing, Mandela managed to heal a nation set it on a path that would have seemed impossible even shortly before his release. I pray that Mandela's life may continue to challenge us to recognize that ideas such as love, mercy, and forgiveness are not just pie-in-the-sky philosophies, but are practical, real-world Gospel.

“You're possessed with a power that's bigger than the pain.” -Everclear, "Heartspark Dollarsign"

How "Frozen" Warmed My Heart

Over the Thanksgiving weekend, I went with my family to see the new Disney movie, Frozen. In most ways it is just like a typical Disney film: it's (very loosely) based on a fairy tale ("The Snow Queen"), has fun, singable music, and silly sidekick characters. Oh, and, of course, there's a princess.

There was, however, an unexpected, positive surprise in the movie for me that grew out of a typical Hollywood trope. At one point, the central character, Anna, asks Olaf, the talking snowman, "What is love?"

In many Hollywood movies, the script would then turn into some romantic Hallmark card about love being when your heart sings, butterflies in your stomach, and being unable to imagine life without your beloved. And the movie sets up well for that kind of answer with Anna developing fast and strong relationships with not one but two handsome men in the roughly 36 hours of the movie's main timeline. (Love is also something that happens at first sight, right?)

But that's not where Frozen goes. Olaf replies to Anna that love is making someone else's needs and desires more important than your own. He says it so simply that you almost miss the meaning. But to drive the point home, Olaf then does exactly what he said in an act of selfless love for Ana. (Without wanting to give it away, the ending also hinges on an act of selfless love.)

Now I love a good romantic love story as much as most people, but it was so refreshing to see love named for what it really is: choosing to put another ahead of yourself, even at the sacrifice of your own wants and needs. I've seen plenty of relationships (not just romantic) stumble over the other idea of love and wonder, "Why don't my feelings stay the same?" or "Why don't my feelings fix everything?" As Olaf correctly points out, love isn't a feeling; it's an action. And he echoes John 15:13: "Greater love has no one than this: that one lay down his life for his friends."

What's even more remarkable is that Disney seems to be on a roll with this. Selfless love was also a central lesson in Brave (along with a beautiful example of repentance) and was the course for Wreck-It Ralph becoming a hero in a scene that makes me cry every time I've seen it.

So cheers to Disney for giving a wonderful, practical description of love. It's nice to see love presented as something that is more than just wishes and kisses.

“We don’t know enough about love so we make it up.” -Jars of Clay, “The Age of Immature Mistakes”

Peace Be With You

(Note: This post was originally written for my church's newsletter.)

“O come, o come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel…” -Traditional Advent Hymn

“[Jesus said,] Peace I leave with you. I do not give to you as the world gives.” -John 14:27

During Advent this year, our church will be exploring the idea of peace. It seems a fitting theme because in the build up to Christmas we often hear the message “Peace on Earth” in carols and cards echoing the message of the angels that first Christmas night. It is also a time of year where we seem to more acutely desire peace in our lives … and perhaps are more aware of where peace is lacking in our lives. 

There are many things that can steal peace from our lives: worries about the state of the world; disappointment in ourselves; injustice to ourselves or a loved one. And many of us have likely seen/imagined/lived scenarios of doing everything we can to make sure Christmas is peaceful and perfect, only to have the day disappoint.

What is this peace we hunger for this time of year? In English, we typically equate peace with an absence of something, as in we see peace where there is an absence of movement or an absence of violence. From a Biblical perspective, though, peace is something else. In much of the Bible, peace is mentioned using the Hebrew word “shalom.” Shalom expresses not an absence, but a presence, because it indicates a sense of wholeness. If I were to wish “shalom” to another person, I would be saying, “May you be fed and sheltered; may you be loved and may you rest without fear or worry.”

If peace is about presence, then it makes sense that we proclaim peace in Advent and Christmas, which are about anticipating and celebrating the presence of Jesus, the Messiah. Jesus promised to come and “ransom” us from those things that steal peace from us—fear, selfishness, hopelessness—and so we experience peace in those places where we find the presence of the Christ. 

Ultimately, the peace we proclaim in Advent is not based on everything in our lives being right or still, but in the hope that Jesus chose to be present among us and continues to draw near to us and our world. It is a peace that the world cannot give. As the angels told the shepherds where to find Jesus that first Christmas, may we share that peace by pointing towards the places where we find Christ.

“This is my kingdom come.” -Imagine Dragons, “Demons”

Biblical Creativity

The way we learn to read the Bible is wrong.

Wait, let me go back a bit...  I was thinking this week about the topic of creativity and education. There have been many articles (like this one), speeches (like this), etc. in recent years bemoaning the loss of creativity in the American population and many place the fault at the feet of our education system. I'm not going to dive into why that is (educational theory, standardized testing, and core requirements are complex topics I can't speak to with any authority), but suffice it to say, (a) I believe creativity is an important part of education and (b) much of my own education was built on teaching facts more than encouraging creative thought. For many of my classes, the implicit idea was that every question had one correct answer and I was to memorize and regurgitate that answer on command.

What struck me this past week was that much of my Sunday school education was identical to my secular education. For every Bible story, there was one answer as to what it meant, such as "The Parable of the Good Samaritan means be nice to others." Ideas were often dealt with in absolutes like always, never, sacred, and evil.

The problem is that the more I read the Bible, the less those prove to be true. Very rarely does a text mean just one thing. Depending on my mood, my current situation in life, or what I watched on TV last night, I can often come up with many lessons from a single text. For example, I generally preach using the texts appointed by the Revised Common Lectionary, which uses the same texts every three years. I've gone back to read old sermons from three or six years ago and found I've preached radically different sermons on the same text (though still sound and meaningful). I've used Psalm 23 ("The Lord is my shepherd...") to preach comfort in grief, loving our enemies, and God's relentless pursuit of us. (Or try reading Jewish Talmud or Midrash! I read a Midrash on Genesis once where the rabbi offered dozens of ideas as to why the first letter of the Bible is bet [Hebrew for B]. Sounds strange, but it was fascinating.)

If we are taught from an early age that those possibilities are wrong, that reading the Bible is about finding short, pat answers to complicated life questions, then the Bible loses its vibrancy. This book hasn't stuck around for thousands of years because it was a well organized how-to manual; it has been important because it records stories and poems about complicated people who had complicated relationships with a complicated God and we've continued to say, "Hey! I can relate to that."

What if we treated Sunday school not as a way to get kids to memorize facts about God, but invited them to explore the stories? What if we taught kids to use the Bible to find good questions, not just answers? What if we all approached the stories asking, "Where do I fit in this story? How is this about me?" (One excellent model is Godly Play, which you can see in action here.)

The opposite result is what I saw once when I was leading a Bible study with some high schoolers and I asked them an open ended question that was something like, "What do you think Jesus meant when he said that?" I honestly don't remember the exact question I asked, but I do remember the response. After about 10 uncomfortable seconds of silence, one of the students said, "Can't you just tell us the answer?" The thing is that I wasn't looking for "the" answer. It was (meant to be) an open-ended question: "What do you think?" But the students had learned that there was one answer and their fear of being wrong was stronger than their interest in the story.

If we can't read the Bible with a supple and open mind, it becomes a solid, stale block. Like a tree, faith grows better in soft soil than in set concrete.

“As if there wasn’t anything to say about the justice and the mystery.” -Jars of Clay, “Good Monsters”

The Theology of Intelligent Design (But Not the One You're Thinking Of)

I saw this video online the other day and (because I'm a pastor) I immediately thought about it in terms of the church.

I should probably say that I find the field of design fascinating (I blame my college roommate who was an art/design major). While I don't consider myself a design expert, what I've come to understand and appreciate is that design isn't just about what something looks like, but how someone uses and experiences the product. Good design makes someone want to use the product and feel good while using it. Some of the best design solutions may even go unnoticed because they work so intuitively that we don't even think about how to use it.

So when I watched this, I started thinking, "How could the principles of good design help improve the church?"

Now whenever I use the word "church" in the same sentence with words like "business," "marketing," or "design," I see many Christians get a panicked look in their eyes that says, "He wants to turn the church into a shopping mall! It'll be Six Flags over Jesus!" So let me be clear, I do not think Jesus is a fully customizable pick-your-own-religion kit to be sold. The Gospel challenges and changes us, not the other way around.

However, as Mark Parker says in the video, "Good design is a part of any brand realizing its full potential." And unless I missed the memo where suffering and disease all ended, then the Church has not realized its full potential. Yet it seems like many Christians are so insistent on not being a "business" that we almost take pride in our buildings being hard to navigate and our worship services being confusing for visitors.

My point in appealing to good design isn't to offer a one-size-fits-all packaged idea to "fix" any church. My point is to raise a question. Parker says that design is "creating products and services that really excite and delight the consumer." So if Jesus is the bread of life and living water that quenches all thirst, shouldn't that be shared in a way that "excites and delights"? Shouldn't that naturally be something we want to use and feel good while using?

I have often experienced faith as a beautiful, mysterious, and endlessly fascinating thing that keeps drawing me back and deeper. But I know that some find their initial experience with faith/religion/church is quite the opposite and therefore miss glimpsing the "full potential" of the Church that "excites and delights" those of us who love her. So how do we pay attention to the design of church so that it feels more like "Double Rainbow Across the Sky" and less like Dana Carvey as the Church Lady?

“Be part of the miracles you see in every hour.” -10,000 Maniacs, "These Are Days"

Why God Throws Temper Tantrums

For my personal devotions for the last couple weeks, I've been reading through the minor prophets. They're the short books with weird names at the end of the Old Testament and they have something of a reputation because the words of God recorded by these prophets sound, well, kinda mean. Really mean. Downright cranky.

In fact, God can sound so angry in these texts that one early Christian bishop named Marcion though the God of the Old Testament was a completely different God from the one Jesus described. He was later named a heretic, but to this day you can hear people talk about the "Old Testament God" like that God is somehow separate from the "New Testament" one.

A lot of the questions are understandable. After all, God threatens some pretty nasty stuff in these books (and other parts of the Hebrew Scriptures), but as I've read these prophets this time, I've come to see God in a different light.

How? Let's look at a few verses. First, in Hosea 7:13 God proclaims: "How horrible it will be for these people. ... They must be destroyed because they've rebelled against me." Angry stuff right? But look at the rest of the verse (emphasis mine): "I want to reclaim them, but they tell lies about me."

Or in Amos, God makes this threat in 2:13: "I am going to crush you as an overloaded wagon crushes a person." Later in chapter 4 there's a pretty graphic threat involving fish hooks. But both of those are followed by this verse in Amos 6:3: "My people, what have I done to you? How have I tried your patience? Answer me! I brought you out of Egypt and freed you from slavery. I sent Moses, Aaron, and Miriam to lead you."

As I read the followup verses in each case, I start to have a different image of God. As God reveals more of his thoughts, God sounds less angry and sounds ... hurt. I imagine a scene from a TV drama in which it's just been revealed that one spouse has cheated and the victim of the infidelity is sobbing and screaming, "How could you do this to me?!? After everything I gave for you? Doesn't our love mean anything to you?!? I trusted you..." And this fits because infidelity is the major complaint God has in these books.

From this perspective then, God isn't a petty rule keeper looking to zap us. God is jealous. God wants to have relationship with me and, like a lover, may react with anger when I break that trust. And while it seems strange to me at first to imagine God being so vulnerable, it ultimately makes God seem more real to me. For all the mysteries that surround the Triune God (including that Triune thing), God the jealous lover is a side I can recognize.

"You know I've been unfaithful, lovers in lines, while you're turning over tables with the rage of a jealous kind." -Jars of Clay, "Jealous Kind"