08.31.05
Posted in beer at 8:55 am by
A week or two ago Zalm opened up a marvelous dialogue about a heavenly liquid I believe to be the teardrops of the Gods–in fermented form. (Zalm’s got another really important winner up today about the nature of transformational and renewing communication, but you’ll have to read that and discuss it over at his crib. Today, we’re talking the nectar of the Gods.)
Clearly, though I shouldn’t need to specify this, the nectar of the Gods is nothing other than beer. (You know, the cause of and solution to all the worlds problems.) Anyway, over at Zalm’s house we were chatting it up about a variety of Belgian ales. Some trappist, some not. I kind of got a little out of line by mentioning some ‘non-Belgians’. Because I was over at his place, I respected Zalm’s right to have a Belgian-only post. Yet, I’m an inclusive guy and I didn’t want all those other beer styles feeling bad. Thus, I decided, I would start with a series (yes, it even has its own category) of posts about beer.
Also, being a Sufjan fan, I thought it might be pertinent to do a ‘50 states’ beer tour. Of course, the problem with this (writing deeply on beers from each of 50 states) is that I haven’t much of a clue about beers native to places like Hawaii, for example. Then, as I began to ruminate on this problem, a solution sort of reared it’s beautiful foamy white little head. I will participate in the drinking of more beer so as I can knowlegeably speak about microbreweries native to states in which I’m not a native! The perfect solution.
Thus, much like Sufjan, I’ll start my beer expedition off right here in my home-state of Michigan. I’ll hit a few beers that I think are great. If I miss one you really like, feel free to comment on it, but please don’t question my beer credentials–that’s just likely to piss me off. (Mostly because I haven’t any beer credentials, but I fancy myself cultured in the area anyway.)
If you’re an of-age Michigander and you haven’t heard of Oberon by Bell’s, you should be permanently disbarred from being a member of the Great Lake State. Any way you shake it, you certainly can’t consider yourself a beer connoisseur, and not know about Oberon. Oberon is a summer beer. It’s light and fruity. If properly garnished, it’s served with an orange wedge. Great mouth-feel and a good flavor. This is a great beer to move one from drinking the regular American piss flavoured beers (e.g. Miller Light, Bud Light, Budweiser, PBR, Old Schlitz, etc.) into a nice fresh microbrew without too much of what I like to call “Flavour Shock”. (Flavor Shock is when you’re used to drinking shitty beer and then you taste a good beer but are so overwhelmed by the flavours that you think ‘good beer tastes bad’. Most everybody goes through it when they make the switch from shitty to good beer, some worse than others.)
Alright, I also am a big fan of Red’s Rye by Founders Brewing Company. I drink this a bit less in the summer, as it’s not as light as an Oberon, but more in the Fall and Winter. I wouldn’t say this amber is heavy, but it is quite spicy. There are CLEAR rye notes in the beer. The aroma of this beer is exceptionally distinctive, it has a biting rye flavour. It’s a beautifully colored ale, almost vermillion in color. A deep red. Wonderfully drinkable (in large quantities, I might add) and a great “sit around the ale-house and talk about life” beer. You do have to like American Amber ales to like this one. It’s got a lot of rye malt flavor (of course that’s balanced out by 60 IBUs of hops), so it’s probably not a beer for a beer novice. Yet, it’s not an “expert beer-drinkers only” beer either.
My next selection, as far as complexity goes, IS probably an “expert beer drinkers only”. It’s also from Founders Brewing, this one is called Devil Dancer. Now, this beer was even a tad complex for me. And, one should plan on having only one or two of these fellas, they’re pretty potent at 13% ABV. They’re a quite heavy ale, that’s hopped to an unbelievably high level (200+ IBU’s). All the warnings out of the way, I like this one in the winter. Perhaps, if I’m only in the mood to drink one or two beers on a cold winter’s evening, I’d go for the Devil Dancer. It’s a special ale that calls for special times.
I can see that this is turning out a shade on the long side of things. Yet, I’ve got a lot more to say. I suppose that’s the point of a series, multiple posts, right? Stay tuned for next time when we escape the beer boundaries of west Michigan breweries and move on to the great white north.
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Posted in life at 8:44 am by
This post was inspired by Jason at Theospora, who asked me to participate in the ‘what I’m reading quiz.’ I put that post off, mainly because I think what I’m reading would likely bore many of you to tears. I’ll answer a few of those questions now.
- Okay, first question, how many books have I owned lifetime…I dunno. No clue. 400 maybe.
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Second question, last book I bought, a textbook, actually. Advanced Social Science Statistical Methods…so now do you see why I say that what i’m reading is boring.
- Third question, last book I completed, honestly, I can’t remember. I have a nasty habit of becoming bored with books once I kinda get the drift of where they’re going. Perhaps I should be challenging myself a bit more with my picks. (I read 4 Dan Brown novels this summer and they kept me guessing enough to keep me entertained from cover to cover.)
- Fourth question, five books that mean a lot to me: Everyday Apocalypse (David Dark), The Meaning of Jesus: Two Visions (Marcus Borg & NT Wright), The Persuasion Handbook (James P. Dillard & Michael Pfau), The Chronicles of Narnia–yes I know it’s more than one book (C.S. Lewis), The Fellowship of the Rings trilogy (J.R.R. Tolkien).
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Fifth question, what am I reading. Well, currently, I’m reading that stats book, a leadership and group communication book (for which I’m TAing the class), and Subversive Orthodoxy by Robert Inchausti.
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08.30.05
Posted in faith at 3:00 am by
Eddie from Edge of Faith asked me to opine a bit on the nature of Church. I will, but not without a big disclaimer. I could, I’m sure, delve into the Scriptures, or find some doctrinal statements about formal institutional Church. I could do this, and, I’m sure I could find the ‘right’ answer about what church is supposed to be and do. But, quite honestly, that’s not really my style. I’d much rather spend some time thinking about what the institutional Church means to me, what has it’s purpose been for me, its role in my life.
Hopefully, somewhere here I’ll be able to meander over to the issue at hand.
Frankly, I love the institutional Church…well, perhaps, that’s a bit of an overstatement. Maybe, “I’m in love with the ‘idea’ of the institutional Church” is a bit closer to the truth. I mean, a group of people living in community together, being love to the world. The idea kicks ass. It’s an idea I believe to be good, difficult to implement, yes, but good nonetheless. So, that’s my bias. I really love the ‘idea’ of Church. And, honestly, I suppose that since I’m enamoured with this grand idea, the institutional Church (the real one, not the ‘idea’) gets colored by my love.
Despite my bias, though, the institutional Church has done some fantastically shitty things. It’s caused much hurt, division, and pain in many of its members. Some have felt so much pain that they’ve decided that rather than remain in fellowship, they’d rather move on, move out, and give up. I’ve been to that spot. It’s really only my committment (or God’s quiet voice manifesting itself as my committment, more accurately) to the ‘idea’ of Church that made me come back.
I’m not much of an ‘understander of deep musical lyrics’ but to me I interpret a few lines from Sufjan Stevens’ For The Widows In Paradise; For The Fatherless In Ypsilanti to have some bearing on this. Here are the lines I’m thinking of:
I was dressed embarrassment.
I was dressed in wine.
If you had a part of me, will you take your time?
Even if I come back, even if I die
Is there some idea to replace my life?
Like a father to impress;
Like a mother’s mourning dress,
If you ever make a mess, I’ll do anything for you.
Sufjan could read this and think I’m totally misinterpreting these few lines of his work, but I’ll just tell you what it means to me. Particularly the lines “Even if I come back, even if I die; Is there some idea to replace my life?” In this couplet, I like to picture an agonizing Christ on the cross aching over what will become of humanity. Wondering if there’s some idea that can replace his life. A life dedicated to bringing forth the Kingdom of God on earth, a life dedicated to the marginalized, a life spent loving and healing and caring. Is there any idea to replace that life? I speculate that the answer is yes. That answer is, to me, the Church.
So, if the purpose of the Church is to in some way serve as an–abeit imperfect–replacement for the work of Christ, if the purpose of the Church is to show the love of Christ to the world, then is it really necessary to be a part of the institutional Church? I think so. (Though, that is a necessarily qualified ‘I think so’ as evidenced by my previous post, there’s certainly a season that some can go through in which being a part of the institutionalized Church may be more detrimental than anything else.) The reason I say, I think so, is that it seems to me that the purpose of Church is bigger than the somewhat arrogant, ‘Let’s change the world around us.’ I call this arrogant because it somehow implies that we, as Christian individuals have somehow arrived, that we don’t need changing about ourselves.
More than JUST changing the world around us, Christians are themselves called to change. To be renewed creations just as we work to renew creation around us. Now, it’s probably not impossible to do this as an island. But, I’m guessing it’s pretty damned hard. So hard, in fact, that I’d say that next to impossible–especially as imperfect folk. I guess I just feel that community is essential to the work of both outward and inward growth.
I must admit, about 10 minutes ago, my thinking on this was recently and indellibly (sp?) shaped when I read this comment on McCarty Musings by Tim Youmans:
I think what I like about the formal church is being forced, if you will, to be in relationship with other imperfect people, particularly people who differ with me in often painful ways. I’m working on the assumption that this kind of community is part of the crucible for our sanctification.
What I really like about Tim’s comment here, and by proxy what I like, then, about the idea of the institutional Church, is that the Church shouldn’t be made up of just one kind of person. Now, as much as I like the idea of an ‘informal and impromptu’ Church, I just don’t think that, left to our own devices, we’re very likely to join anything more than an echo chamber of the likeminded. And, as nice and rejuvenating as this kind of community can be, (and may be necessary for our spiritual well-being from time to time) it doesn’t tend to foster an environment that encourages growth (even if that growth is the kind of growth that comes from discomfort).
Sure, Churches can sometimes be a tad ‘less than excited’ about welcoming members who act prophetically. But, truth be told, that’s kind of what makes the ‘prophetic’, well, prophetic. They’re a bit contrarian, and it’s probably not very fun to be in a small group with them, either. I think the odd truth is, though, that we all need eachother. As iron sharpens iron, we sharpen eachother. It usually isn’t the most comfortable process, but in the end, if you asked me, I’d say it’s worthwhile.
Tags: Sufjan Stevens, Outchurched, Emergent Church, Institutional Church
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08.29.05
Posted in faith at 3:27 pm by
I’ve been reflecting a bit on being ‘outchurched’. Kristen had a great post up over at McCarty Musings about their ‘first date’ with a new Church. I found it to be timely. It also illustrated something that I think is important to the concept of being ‘outchurched’.
First, though, it might be wise to sort of define our construct a bit. When I say out-churched, I’m meaning an individual who was once a member of the institutional Church, an individual who regularly attended Church and for some reason has stopped attending Church. I’m not talking about people who don’t like their Church, or people who think it’s cool to be ‘on the edge’ so they refer to themselves as ‘outchurched’ even though they’ve not worked up the gumption to actually stop going. I’m talking about people who’ve stopped going to institutional meetings of the Church. They are the out-churched.
What I got to thinking about after Kristen’s post was that she and her husband Micah really did ‘being out-churched’ right. What I mean by this is that they found a community of believers to belong to. They found a place to heal. A place to know and be known. A place to gripe, and a place to care; they found a forum for living. They, it seemed to me, didn’t view their period of being ‘outchurched’ as a destination, but rather it was a passage. (And, if I’m wrong here, Micah or Kristen, just jump right in and correct me.)
When Jen and I took a little break from church, it felt like we really needed time to heal. We were coming off of a bad Church experience and we needed the opportunity to not be surrounded by church folk. And, we had school, and friends, and work to keep us busy. Sundays were for eachother. And, it was a time of passage–we knew that eventually, we’d find a place to commune again. We just needed a break, a time to heal.
You see, I’ve been concerned with something lately. Some folks, at least the way it seems to me, have started talking about being ‘out-churched’ as a destination rather than a passage. Now, some people stop believing in God. I understand that. But, for people who do believe and just choose not to be involved with the people of God, I don’t think that’s the answer, per se. It’s like some people are flaunting the fact that they don’t go to church anymore. It’s as if it’s an emergent ’status symbol’ to be out-churched…as if you can attain some pinnacle of holiness by just NOT being a part of a body of believers. (And, please know that despite my use of the term ‘outchurched’ I’m not talking about the boys at outchurched.com.)
I don’t buy this. I think what gets me about the whole thing is that it feels to me like people that want to be cool will simply not go to Church, and even take some measure of delight in calling themselves ‘out-churched’. Yet, they remain freakishly adherent to the so-called ‘Christain’ sub-culture of the day. I think doing ‘out-churched’ right means being committed to being counter-Christian-sub-cultural. Doing ‘out-churched’ right means being committed to the process of healing and change. If you’re a Christian, I believe that God calls you to be a part of the Church (broadly, that is, I won’t be sucked into an argument of what constitutes ‘a church’ here.) Perhaps you need time to heal, perhaps you need a LONG time to heal–but in the end you’re a part of the Church, like it or not.
I think one of the most valuable things about being ‘out-churched’ is what you bring back with you when you come back to the Church. After a time of healing and contemplation, you take back a renewed vision of life. Perhaps you’ve become counter-Christian-sub-cultural, perhaps you’re more attune to the heart and mind of Christ, perhaps you’ve been renewed. The Church needs the ‘out-churched’. Without them, the Church is screwed.
Thus, my feeling that seeing ‘out-churched’ as an end rather than a means to an end is wrong, I just don’t buy it. But, then again, I could be wrong.
Tags: Outchurched, Emergent Church
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08.28.05
Posted in life, fun at 9:04 pm by
Warning: Normally, I try to preserve at least a bit of decorum and political correctness. I didn’t really make it with this post. If you’re easily offended you should stop now (how’s that for a teaser, eh?)
Since Jen has been supporting our family on a meager educator’s salary, we’ve not been eating out at the sorts of places where one would expect to find the highest eschelon of society. Yet, we do get out from time to time.
Anyhow, Jen, the last time we were visiting our favorite buffet restaurant, mentioned that she had something to tell me when we got back to the car. Now, for anyone who’s not familiar with this tactic (of sharing information when you’ve gotten back to the car), it basically implies that you’re going to make fun of someone and you’d rather not do it in public. Jen does tell me, though, that her comment has to do with Darwin. At this point, I’m suspicious I know what she’s about to say, and the smirk on her face belies the fact that she thinks she’s made quite a ‘funny.’
So, we get out to the car, and I ask her what her thought has to do with Darwin. In true McCarty Musings style, here’s our Real-Life Conversation:
Brandon: So what were you going to tell me about Charles Darwin?
Jen: Well, you know about natural selection, right?
Brandon: Yeah, it’s basically the whole fittest, smartest, strongest reproduce right?
Jen: Yeah. I just don’t believe it to be true. I mean did you see some of the people in there? Seems like natural selection is working backwards, if you know what I mean.
Brandon: (Scratches head). I think I do know what you mean.
Jen was right. As I looked around the restaurant, it didn’t seem to be the smartest, the strongest, nor the fittest who had procreated with the most success. Not at all. In fact, it seemed to me that the LEAST fit folks were most successful in making offspring (or least successful at figuring out birth-control). They were reproducing like bunnies. Kids were flocking around tables like really loud, ill-kempt black flies on a three day old deer carcass.
Take a bite of food, buzz around the table, take a bite of food, buzz around the table, take a bite of food, buzz around the table…you get the idea.
Anyway, back to our Real Life Conversation:
Jen: Yeah, so, I just can’t believe in evolution.
Brandon: It’s almost like humans are evolving into two distinct creatures…
And at this point, I had an epiphany. Humans must, in fact, be evolving into two distinct groups. One group, a group that I’d love to believe I belong to (yet, if you met me I’m not sure you’d be as willing to so assign me,) is made up of the fittest, the strongest, and the smartest.
Another group is made up of the closed minded, the not quite so smart, yes friends, the NASCAR fan. In fact, this might just be God’s way of striking back at us all for insisting on teaching intelligent design in science classes. Can’t you just see that little vignette play out in heaven or somewhere?
(Beware, at this point all preservation of propriety and decorum are shot straight to crap. Read on at your own risk. I don’t REALLY think I can speak for God…but if you’re reading this and you’re not God, you can’t either. The following (much like the preceding has been) is hyperbole and satire–isn’t it a sad world that I have to announce that publicly–failure to see it as such will be taken as evidence that you really are that dumb.)
God: Can you believe those morons are insisting on teaching intelligent design in high school science classes?
Jesus (sitting on the right hand of God): Seriously! I can’t believe it. What the hell are we going to do about this?
God: Hmm…that’s a good question. Wait, I’ve got it! I’ll teach those little bastards. I’ll just de-evolve the ones who’re insistent on teaching a literal 6 day creation in public high schools back into apes. That’ll really knock out two birds with one stone. First, no ape is going to be teaching intelligent design, AND just think of the poetic justice.
So, according to my theory, not only are humans continually evolving, but also some are actually de-evolving–as evidenced by NASCAR, buffet restaurants, and the off-putting prevelance of mullet styled haircuts. The NASCAR watching, buffet eating, mullet sporting demographic are meeting eachother and they’re making babies with reckless abandon, preserving their traits.
It just so happens, that this might be part of God’s plan of restorative justice. On one hand, Gorrillas are endangered animals, and we could use more of them, so God spoke and God said, “let there be more apes.” Thus began the turning of these folks back into apes. On the other hand, there were probably too many NASCAR fans out there who were also fans of intelligent design. God saw all these things and acted accordingly.
In fact, you’ll probably notice that most of the leaders of movements involved in the proliferation of intelligent design have an over-abundance of body/facial hair. For example, see the photo to the right of Ken Ham, creator of the Answers in Genesis organization. Clearly, Ken has begun developing ape-ish characteristics. Note the extentding jaw bone and encroaching facial hair. Further, individuals like Pat Robertson have begun experiencing an extended jaw line and an inexplicable proponderance of ear-hair.
The guy on the left is another great example. I defy you to prove to me that there is no such thing as de-evolution with dudes like this running around. I think this is clear proof that my theory has both theological and scientific merit. In a sense, wouldn’t Hen Ham be proud? I mean, in a way he’s tangibly contributing to proving the existence of God, right? It’s just not shaking out exactly like he thought. Listen, I’m not trying to argue that being an ape is bad. I mean, as close as we can tell from science (”good” science, that is) human beings came from them. As Christians we’ll need to learn to love these apes, too.
In the end, I’m glad that Jen and I had this little discussion and my ‘badchristian’ theory of de-evolution could be born. I mean, it’s just as rooted in good science as any literal six-day creationists’. And, it just makes so much sense. So, let’s not give Ken Ham a rough time. We only have him for so much longer in his current state. And for the love of all that’s good and right, let’s take it easy on Pat Robertson. He’s going through a tough transition right now. Perhaps it’s his transformation to an ape that makes him think that ‘Guerrilla warfare’ is a good idea? Well, it’s just a thought.
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08.27.05
Posted in life at 2:49 pm by
I’m sure that this’ll be a tad controversial, and I’m rather intrigued by that. I’m reading this book, Subversive Orthodoxy by Robert Inchausti, and thus far, it’s pretty good. While I was reading it a few questions popped into my head that I thought I’d just throw out for open insight here.
First, Does the death of modernism from the Enlightenment sound the death knell for Atheism? That is, is Atheism, as it is manifest by modern skepticism, transformed under the non-modern mindset?
Second, Does this really make these Atheists agnostic, if we really get down to brass tacks?
Third, If you’re a ‘post-modern’ thinker and a Christian, and you’ve ditched notions of inerrancy and certainty, doesn’t that really make you an Agnostic?
Fourth, If you’re a ‘post-modern’ believer in Christ and an agnostic, and the post-modern atheist is also really an agnostic (if you accept my reasoning) aren’t we really just all agnostics running around trying to figure out what the hell is up?
Fifth, and finally, isn’t it really true that woven into the fabric of human nature is the very concept of agnosticism–not knowing the answers? I mean, we can have a faith in things, we can accept or reject evidence about certain things (e.g. the literal resurrection, the virgin birth, the diety of Jesus Christ, the presence of absence of God) but really, aren’t we (non-modern folk) all agnostics if we’re really honest with ourselves?
I don’t have all (or any) of the answers, really. I just got to thinking and thought I’d share. I’m curious what any of you have to say about this.
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08.25.05
Posted in life, grad school at 12:31 pm by
Now SHOULD be the time that I blog about twice or three times a day. After all, I just got through a ‘hell’ week with school and whatnot. What makes a ‘hell’ week, you ask? Well, I was, for the first three weeks of August, TA-ing (that’s grad school lingo for ‘being an underpaid lackey for) a grad class on Leadership and Communication through the Management department at MSU. The last week was probably the worst. It included, on Wednesday and Thursday of last week, about 5 hours of oral exams each day.
Now, some of you are thinking to yourselves, “You just had to administer the oral exams, imagine how the students felt.” Well, let me assure you that administering oral exams sucks like a hoover. Then when we were done giving the exams, I had, on Friday, my thesis proposal defense. That went well. I passed (or at least I got the requisite signatures on the requisite forms) with flying colors.
I’ve been relatively silent about the content of my thesis. Frankly, it’s not the sort of thing that folks here probably tune in for. Yet, because a couple of you have asked, I’ll nutshell it for you. Basically, I’m studying the kinds of communication behaviors that enable individuals to emerge as leaders of groups in a variety of settings. So, yeah, like I said, it’s interesting to me, but not regular fare for folks fascinated by issues of culture, religion, and loudmouthed jackasses who can’t help but seethe hate toward leaders of foreign governments who they’d like to see assasinated.
Anyway, that’s what happened last week. And, given the rigor of last week, I’d have thought I’d have more interesting things to write about. Yet, today I find myself spinning my wheels. One thing, though, that stuck with me from the last weekend is a conversation I had with my Dad about a story he overheard.
It seems that in a discussion about race in the Christian Reformed Church (my denomination) an elder (one of a member of the top leadership teams at a particular church body) was heard to have said:
I don’t have any problem with black people…I think everyone should own a few.
I have a few thoughts, some more vindictive than others. I’ll list them here:
- It’s a good thing I’ve been finding myself drifting toward non-violence, because otherwise I think I’d be tempted to enact some pretty awful forms of Church punishment on this bastard. Perhaps a stockade out in front of the Church, maybe a public flogging, or maybe (ala’ Die Hard: With a Vengeance) we just send this guy into Harlem with a body advertising board that publicly says what he said to fellow church members, and, you know, see what happens.
- Probably more troubling than the fact that the guy said what he said is that people probably laughed when he said it.
- It’s pretty sad when the Church doesn’t take seriously statements like this.
- Oddly enough, another thought that popped right to mind is that this guy is walking evidence for having women in office. If the state of bureaucracy in the Church has so deteriorated to the point that assholes like the one in question are in leadership, I think there’s no question that any woman could do JUST as good a job as this character (if not better.)
- In the same breath, I don’t like this argument for women in office because it assumes that men, if they’re behaving properly, are more suited to office than women. I don’t believe that at all. But, the above argument SHOULD (not that it will) satiate even the most strict ‘no women in office’ folks.
- This guy is a caricature. The more heinous racism in the church is the fact that people like this, that beliefs like this dickhead’s, can exist without serious ecclesiological (is that the right word, Greg?) reprimand.
- Ex-communication, I really don’t think we use it enough.
- This fellow had better hope to hell that no little ones are being influenced by his mouth, that millstone thing (i.e. Matt. 18:5-9) sounds like it sorta sucks.
- I’m sure pretty much no one disagrees that this guy’s an asshole. Everybody, I’m sure, is nodding their head (if not at every point, then at the general tenor of this post that this moron’s behavior is fucked up.) Yet, other less obvious (and possibly because of their ‘under-the-surface-ness’ more serious) forms of racism thrive in the Church.
I’m sure I could think of more things to spout off about. But, I’m just making myself more and more angry all the while. No sense in that I suppose.
ADDENDUM: Nobody take this the wrong way, please. (Mainly because I’m 90% joking…okay 95% joking). But, I’ve been noticing an odd influx of individuals with the first name ‘Steve’ visiting and commenting on the site. Now, God herself only knows how happy we are to have you around. But if you wouldn’t mind posting your last initial (and linking to your blog if you have one), ah…yeah….that’d be grreaat. ‘Specially you Chastian…you subversive little bastard. 
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08.24.05
Posted in faith, culture at 12:57 pm by
You know how it is when you’re driving down the freeway, and all of a sudden traffic comes to a screetching halt. You’ve probably all slowed down your car and skidded to a halt, and craned your neck out the window to see the carnage of mangled metal. You can’t help feeling sorry for those involved, and terrified at the potential loss of life involved–yet, it’s nearly impossible not to look. You know what I mean, right?
Well, if you do, you understand how it is with me and blogs I disagree with. I’m just sickened by the hurt and pain these pieces of trash are causing, yet, I can’t help but look. One fantastic trainwreck that’s been in progress has been Ingrid Schlueter’s Slice of Laodicea. She’s got a few posts up about how both Anne Lamott and Donald Miller are backslidden and apostate “Christians.”
Her main argument is that they have ‘potty mouths’ as close as I can tell.
I think we all know I use words deemed by society to be salty. If you’re looking for a few examples, it’s probably not too fuckin’ hard for you to make your way to the search bar and find some. (At this point, I’m realizing that the trackbacks I sent over Ingrid’s way probably won’t be showing up on her site anytime soon. Even though I followed her rules for commenting, I imagine she’ll take this message as decidedly improper. Ah, well, que sera sera, right?)
Ingrid cites some scripture that’s (I think) meant to decry this ‘filthy toilet language’. She offers II Peter 3: 10-13. Here’s that passage in the NIV:
10But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything in it will be laid bare.[a]
11Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what kind of people ought you to be? You ought to live holy and godly lives 12as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming.[b]That day will bring about the destruction of the heavens by fire, and the elements will melt in the heat. 13But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness.
So…what does NOT using ‘the fuck word’ have to do with living a holy and godly life? (I think I get what it has to do with a ‘holier than thou’ life, but not a holy one.) I truly don’t understand how this is anything other than a cultural belief that’s been used to scare children off from words their parents just don’t like. It would seem that when kids figure out they’re neither blind, nor do they have hairy palms at the age of 14, that perhaps these lines of shit their parents fed them about ’swear words’ and various other more private activities might have been just that: a line of shit. The words in and of themselves have no inherent sinfulness–it’s the way they’re used that can be right or wrong (and a whole lot more words than some ‘unholy trinity’ of obscenity would fall into the category of ‘wrong’ if we’re honest with ourselves).
Ingrid faces a problem at her blog. I understand why she picks, wrongly, on swear-words. In my opinion, the reason is that people like Donald Miller and Anne Lamott are making the same arguments about seeker-centered, cracker-ass, self-help churches as she is. They (we) all believe that the current directions of the modern mega-church are a bad idea. Ingrid, though it seems, would love to lump many on the fringes of faith in with the mega-church movement. Ingrid’s scared, at least it seems to me, that her caricatureization of ‘the Emergent movment’ is incorrect. That they REALLY do want to see people engaging in a community.
Ingrid, if you don’t want to have us ‘filthy potty mouths’ over at your dinner table, that’s fine. You’ve the choice to invite whomever you so choose. But know this, trying to write people off, trying to detract from their spiritual value, trying to take away from their purpose, assasinating their character because their vision for the future of the people of Jesus Christ doesn’t match yours…that’s just sad.
I have to imagine that the Grace of God is big enough to mitigate some minor differences of political opinion in the Church. Thus, I’m not running around calling you apostate because you don’t believe in equal rights for women in the Church. I’d have hoped that you’d grant the same grace to those who use words that you just don’t like (and aren’t even forbidden in scripture.)
But, that’s just me, and, after all, my comment probably belies my fundamental misreading of the holy scriptures.
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08.23.05
Posted in faith, politics at 11:29 am by
Steve offered these questions:
1) What role, if any, should an individuals faith play in politics?
2) What role, if any, should the church have in politics?
It seems like we talk about this a lot. I think that there are few of us who’d argue that faith should play no role in politics. Yet, the distinction is a blurry one. Faith and politics, politics and faith. Crazy bedfellows, I think. Crazy, because we often think of the two as these separate entities. One influencing the other, faith and politics have both been particularly devisive entites.
On the one hand, you’ve got some religious conservatives (and the majority of conservatives would classify themselves as ‘religious’) who’ll swear up and down that faith should influence politics. Of course, this is often boiled down to the single issue argument of abortion. Many conservatives squelch this faith influencing politics by engaging in the act of referring to liberals as ‘baby-killers’. It’s hard to respond to this charge. Frankly, because it’s so grossly oversimplified that it’s no longer even close to accurate. Often, these folks aren’t really interested in REAL political debate, they’re interested faith overtaking politics.
On the other hand, you’ve got ‘religious’ liberals whose politics seems to completely inform their faith. (And, I’m not talking about the ‘Progressive Christianity’ faction that’s become more vocal of late, either.) I’m talking about being ‘just spiritual enough’ to buy yourself a few extra votes come election day. These folks seem, to me at least, to be more concerned with politics than they are with faith.
I’m not sure that separating the questions ‘what is the role of an individual’s faith in politics’ and ‘what is the role of the Church in politics’ is the way to go. First of all, I think that it’s safe to assume that we’re talking about an individual’s CHRISTIAN faith and the CHRISTIAN Church. I’m not prepared to go on the record about the belief systems of other faiths, so I’ll limit my observations thusly.
I think that as individual Christians we’re to act as a part of the Church. We’ve all got our individual callings, but these are inseperable from the corporate identity of the Church. The Church, I believe, is called to be a part of society. So, yes, to participate in government. There’s a big difference though between participating, and being IN CHARGE.
It feels like that’s the move that Christians in high places (you can fill in the blanks to figure out who I’m talking about) would like faith to take the place of government. The Faith Based initiative springs to mind. I’m not so certain we can expect the Church to bear the brunt of the burden when it comes to welfare programs. After all, historically, the Church hasn’t been a fantastically inclusive organization. We’re more apt to assassinate (either figuratively or literally) individuals than we are to work toward inclusion.
I’m not sure that I can answer the question: what IS the Church’s role in politics? But, I think I can much more closely answer the question: what ISN’T the Church’s role in politics? My answer would go like this:
- Praying that liberal supreme court justices die or retire (either way) so that a more conservative one can come around and put a stop to all things liberal.
- Referring to liberals as ‘baby-killers’.
- Protesting against the rights of homosexuals.
- Demonizing the GLBT community and using loaded terms like ‘the homosexual agenda’.
- Insisting Republican votes be cast unilaterally.
- Being largely un-critical of conservatism.
- Being overly critical of liberalism.
- Assassinating the character of Sponge-Bob Squarepants.
- Working against Affirmative Action and calling it reverse racism.
- Opposing all forms of social welfare.
- Threatening to ex-communicate Kerry voters.
- Thinking there are only two moral issues (gay marriage and abortion).
I could go on. But, you get the idea.
Now, I think it’s fair for the Church to have positions on issues. I’m also cool with the Church having a diversity of opinions represented. What’s not cool is dishonest rhetorical assasination. I’m pretty sure there’s something about bearing false witness in the Bible, and I’m also pretty sure the Bible generally comes down against such behavior.
For a people who’re so damn interested in faith influencing politcs, Christians tend to ignore the fact that their faith should influence their rhetoric, too. Funnily enough, it seems like people of faith often resort to dirty politics to get the job done–and then, they think the ends justify the means.
Fundamentally, that, to me, is the way faith should influence politics. It’s not getting the WHOLE Church on board with a political perspective, it’s not getting the government to come down on ‘our’ side of the issues. It’s all about honesty. Faith should influence the very way we play the game of politics. Anything less…would be uncivilised.
ADDENDUM: If you were curious about what exactly would constitute dishonest rhetoric, Zalm’s got a great example up over at his place. There’s nothing like teaching children the value of a political smear job before they’ve stopped wetting the bed.
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08.22.05
Posted in christ-haunted life at 9:15 pm by
NOTE: For some context on this series, reading volume 1 (the introduction) would be helpful. And, if you like here is volume 2 and volume 3.
When I was in Junior High, I wasn’t really a ’social-lite’. I mean, I think I was pretty normal (as far as Junior High standards go), but I certainly wasn’t one of the ‘popular kids’. Part of my personality–or at least I think it’s a personality trait–is that I tend to be the kind of person who people feel comfortable giving ’shit’ to. That is, people make fun of me. And, frankly, they usually do it when they like me, so I don’t mind.
When one is in Junior High, however, this personality trait attracts a less kind sort of attention. People relentlessly made fun of me. (Or, at least that’s what I remember perceiving of my Junior High experience, whether that’s true or not, that’s up for debate.) Anyway, the thing that really got me was that I was called ‘Bran-dumb’. Now, all evidence should’ve pointed to the fact that this wasn’t true (or at least that it wasn’t true in comparison to the majority of my classmates). However, the mind of a gangly 6 foot, 120 pound, 14 year-old doesn’t necessarily parse information as clearly as he should.
I know that many of you have similar stories. Junior Highers are cruel. I think that might be the one constant truth in all creation. Yet, this insignificant little cruelty stuck with me.
That’s not to say I still think of myself as ‘dumb’, at least not outwardly. But, it does pop up from time to time. For example, I think that sometimes there’s a nagging doubt about my abilities that hangs around. Although, I’d imagine that might just be human nature. Even my advisor admits to self-doubt (and for that, I’m incredibly grateful because it gives me hope that I might, if I’m lucky, make it through grad school, too.)
I think, though, that spending three years as ‘Bran-dumb’ had a lasting effect on me. From time to time, I think I managed to convince myself that, no matter how hard I worked, I’d never be more than marginally successful. This, of course, had a negative effect on how hard I actually worked in college. It wasn’t until I started grad school that I had finally started to believe that I could, in fact, be legitimately good at my discipline.
I’m not a savant. I’ll probably never be the next Einstien (or G.R. Miller) of human communication. And, you know what else, I’ll probably also never be the next “Real Live Preacher” of the blogosphere. But, I can be Brandon. I can be myself. Uniquely created to do something. Uniquely created to be a part of something.
And here, friends, is the true value of community. No matter what your faith: Christian, Jew, Athiest, or Hindu–you’re valued here. Not because I want to turn you into anything. And, not because I particularly care about evangelizing you (at least not in the 20th/21st century sense of the word). I’m glad you’re here not because of some sense of what I can offer to YOU, I’m glad you’re here because of what WE can offer to EACHOTHER.
We’re all worthwhile…no matter what they told you in Junior High.
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