Stewart 5

Due to my self-imposed ban on new book purchases and my family’s voracious reading appetite and therefore constant trips to the library, I decided to look up some books from my Amazon wish list on the Fresno County Public Library’s website.  I scored on this one – It’s Really All About God: Reflections of a Muslim Atheist Jewish Christian by Samir Selmanovic.  This book was published in September 2009 and I just got to read it for free from the library!  I have to tell you, I liked it so much I am going to buy it.

I will spare you a book-report-style summary except to say the book relates the author’s journey of faith, focusing especially on family, culture (he is originally from Croatia), and religion.  Each of these are significant and Selmanovic weaves these throughout his book so well that I can only ask that you read the book to hear his heart for and in each.  We also find the postmodern pillars of the call to embrace God and honestly face our uncertainty at the same time, not making our own religion an idol in place of the God our religion follows, and the value each religion can bring when we enter into meaningful dialogue.  While these are no longer revolutionary ideas to me, the author does a good job of providing relevant story and insight to these fundamental concepts.  You’ll have to read the book for all this good stuff.

The 2 parts that I DO want to talk more about are areas that have challenged my own heart.

The first is a fundamental question to my faith (and I suppose all others), but one that we spend too little time attending to, or answer too quickly.  Q: What was Jesus promising to his followers?  If you’ve been involved in this Christianity thing for a while, you recognize that your answer to this question might differ from what you first believed (or were taught.  When you read Jesus, he talks about being without a home, seeing disruption in the state of our relationships, being persecuted…The author says it this way of Jesus… “Follow me and you might be happy – or you might not.  Follow me and you might be empowered – or you might not.  Follow me and you might have the answers – or you might not.  Follow me and you might be better off – or you might not.  If you follow me you might be worse off in every way you use to measure life.  Follow me nevertheless.  Because I have an offer that is worth giving up everything you have” (p. 210).  My experience would agree with Selmonovic’s reading of Jesus’ call.  What does Jesus say we will get from following him?  Learning to love well.

Would you trade everything in exchange for learning to love?  I am haunted by this question for several reasons.  First, I do not love as well as I would like.  If that is the point, what have I been doing instead?  Not that doing it perfectly is the validation, but it should at least be a main focus.  Loving God, loving my wife, my kids, those I am responsible for, those I work with, the needy right in front of me.  There is no shortage of opportunity!  Do I see each person as an opportunity to learn to love? AND, am I helping others in the same pursuit?  Are my means of discipleship, training, mentoring, or simply relating actually helping others learn to love well????

I want this to be true – more true of my life.  I feel like I am on this path, especially right now during our time of Sabbatical.  What does it mean to remain on this path regardless of place, job, or other responsibilities?  What I love about this call is that it deals with life now.  My focus is not on a reward that comes later.  Rather, it has affect on my life, and the lives of others, now.  I need this.

The second part of the book that relates quite a bit to some of what God is teaching me concerns how we go about “doing.”  This is very significant to me as I learn to separate my sense of value, being loved, and identity from what I accomplish.  In a sense, it’s basic and I would espouse and teach that.  But I am only BEGINNING to truly believe and live by this truth.  The author, also a vocational minister, relates that ever since becoming a Christian, he has been taught to give, love, minister, care.  This is what we are supposed to do, right?  So, he asks, why isn’t this working?  “Since we have been teaching and acting in our Christian churches to love others and to organize others and to organize our lives to love others, how curious, I thought, that polls report that non-Christians perceive Christians as not loving!  How can that possibly be?” (p. 240).  His answer speaks right to me.  We don’t really love because we don’t know how to receive.  In other words, we are not willing to let others affect us, especially in areas (like about God) that matter.  We like to give because givers are in control.  We bless because blessers are in control.  “To receive, on the other hand, means to lose something.  Everyone wants to teach and no one wants to learn.”

For me, I can only be in a position to receive when I don’t equate my value with what I do.  How could I?  If what I know, accomplish, and teach is what gives me my identity, how could I possibly take myself out of the driver’s seat?  And so, as I am learning (again) who I am (and am not), I can be with you and just be.  I can hear.  I can learn.  I can change.  Heck, I can RELATE without trying to fix you.  I want that, and am pretty sure that you do too.  So, when I am with you, I give you permission to check that.  Am I with you, or just trying to “help” you?  I feel like God is really teaching/changing me.  I hope you experience me more this way and invite you to let me know how I am doing.

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In contemporary society, our Adversary majors in three things: noise, hurry, and crowds.  If he can keep us engaged in “muchness” and “manyness,” he will rest satisfied.  Psychiatrist Carl Jung once remarked, “Hurry is not of the Devil, it is the Devil.”  If we hope to move beyond the superficialities of our culture, including our religious culture, we must be willing to go down into the retreating silences, into the inner world of contemplation.

- Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline

I think that in principle, most of us agree with the above. So…

How do you break out of the satanic pace of our world and make time to rest with God?  Let’s help one another by sharing what is working!

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Was part of a great book discussion today on David Bosh’s crazy-good, often referred to, yet under appreciated Transforming Mission.  Bosch’s book is one of those that for some reason I have never got around to reading – until now.  So glad I am.  Beyond the reading, the discussions look like they will be both fun and challenging.  It’s nice to talk with a bunch of people who have hearts that resonate, and “get” one another.  So, we can dive deeper than just discussing theological/philosophical concepts to why and how it matters for our lives.  I think that just maybe we will find some ways to put parts into practice together as well.   Tom, Cobus, and Chris have written about this conversation/their thoughts.  I am sure that   Sure Joe will as well (especially since I just called him out).

So much that I would like to comment on, but I’ll save for other posts.  For now, maybe just a quote from the end of the chapter we were discussing.  I didn’t get a chance to say anything in our group, so here’s my chance…

In discussing the ways in which the early church participated in living signs of the Kingdom, Bosch maintains that they did so in a manner consistent with Jesus.  However, they failed in at least 3 ways.  First, the early church too quickly established what separated themselves from others rather than their calling and responsibility toward these others.  Second, the movement turned into an institution.  Third, the growing church marginalized the Jews (those from whom they were birthed).  Those of you who have studied organizations know that these are pretty common in the life cycle of any movement.  We always wonder how to influence the process so that institutionalization/fossilization doesn’t take place in some inevitable fashion.  I would dare say that this has happened with the emerging church in the USA (but Tony, I think you have wisely and subversively multiplied influence by deconstruction, perhaps preempting the process? – yet another blog post I should write).

Then Bosch throws in this little nugget that has left me thinking a lot: “Very few people can be both at the periphery and at the center at the same time.  And even if they do manage that, they usually do so only for a very short while” (52).  Crap!  We’re trying so hard to be a church for all people.  A place where homeless and affluent rub shoulders, where radical discipleship is the norm, not the exception.  Are you saying we can’t live on the edge and in the middle of society?

Bosch is right, I think.  All my years (oh so many years, at that) seem to point that way.  You choose to live on the edge or at the center.  Lots of young, excited, or naive people get started on the fringes.  What usually happens over time?  They get sucked toward the middle.  They become jaded, disenchanted, tired of fighting the system, or just plain selfish.  The middle has a strong pull, doesn’t it?  But I repeat: YOU CAN CHOOSE TO LIVE ON THE EDGE OR AT THE CENTER.

The edge is scary, risky, exciting, unknown, and the place of miracles because God is needed.  It’’s real reality, the “thin place” where heaven and earth come close together.  It’s the place of angels and demons.  It’s where we see God’s Kingdom coming.  It’s where I want to be.  If I must choose between the periphery and center, I choose the edge.

I choose the edge.

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I just finished reading Called Out of Darkness by Anne Rice.  You may know her from her “vampire books,” but this is entirely different.  This book is her autobiographical faith journey, and it is wonderful (the book and the journey)!

I won’t recount the book here (it’s a fast read, so pick it up yourself), but I will say that Anne is a terrific writer and vividly captures the images and memories, especially of her early years.  As she says in her book, her faith was not of words.  Rather, it was symbols, pictures, and sights.  She describes walking to church, attending the mass, her feelings of love and conversations with Jesus in such detail that you feel like you were there.  Even if you are not catholic, I think the weight of her memories will resonate with you.

The end of her book is powerful.  I nearly cried reading her account of returning to her faith, and her deep commitment to Christ.  She loves him and has turned all of her attention and efforts to him.  Her devotion is evident and inspiring.  I love her honesty – she hasn’t got everything figured out, but she believes and responds.

A must read.

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