What I Want... (A New Year's Prayer)

I want to believe that I don't just create God in my own image, cutting and pasting the texts of Scripture to suit my own fancy. (But I suspect that I, and almost all other Biblical scholars, do).

I want to be set free from slavery to gluttony, lust, laziness, pride, anger, despair and greed.

I want to wake up in the morning and be filled with gratitude rather than feel like I have a hangover from the previous day.

I want to be part of a church where I can be who I am and not put on a face and not act like everything is alright.

I want to want God.

I want to share my life with the poor, to resist the urge to escape from poverty, and to embrace a life of simple solidarity with the broken as the will of God. And I want to find peace and joy in doing so.

I want to stop medicating myself with all the wrong things.

I want to long to read the Bible more than I long to read the newspaper or long to watch television or long to surf the web or long to sit and watch paint dry.

I want to stop feeling like somehow the Bible demands that I look down upon, judge, or oppose the civil rights of homosexuals.

I want to learn how to pray.

I want to lose weight.

I want my family to know how much I love them and hate how I treat them when I'm in a bad mood.

I want 2009 to be a better year than 2008.

Amen.

Trip to a War Zone

So today my friend David showed back up after an absence of several weeks. I had seen him in jail sometime in early November, but he'd been nowhere to be found since his release on the 6th despite his repeated promises to come to church every Sunday.

But today he came banging on my door and telling me that he had relapsed. He wasn't too repentant about it though because, in his words, "you'da relapsed too, pastor, if you'd seen what I seen last night." So I asked him about it and I managed to piece together his story:

After a quiet evening at his aunt's house where David is living until he can get a place of his own, his 24-year old nephew showed up at the house needing a place to stay for the night. It being below freezing, they let him inside where a hodgepodge of family members were staying -- an old matriarch, a young single mother and her 7 month old son, David who was recently released from prison, and now this 24-year old kid up to no good.

Around 2:00 am they all awoke with a start as several men jumped out of a van, ran onto their front porch and started riddling the house with gunfire. The men were apparently carrying assault rifles and unloaded on the sleepy house, shooting out windows and sending bullets flying in all directions through walls before piling back into the van and peeling out to go who knows where. Turns out the nephew who was visiting had been looking for a place to hide from some men who were out to get him. He'd apparently sold them some bad drugs or something. When the grandmother of them all called the police, David's nephew grabbed his coat and took off.

A bullet had missed the young mother's head by a few feet as she slept next to her beautiful baby boy. David took off to "get a drink." No one slept the rest of the night.

So this morning, David comes and asks me if I want an education. He offers to take me to his place and show me the "real inner city." So I went. The whole way he kept saying, "If I see those bastards again I'll blow their heads off. I gotta protect that little baby. I'm gonna stay up all night with my rifle at my side. You ain't gonna believe your eyes, pastor. These bastards coulda killed that little baby." When he asked me if I would defend my own home with a rifle after such an incident, I thought for a second and nodded my head.

The home was a total dump. A fat, elderly black women greeted me at the door in her bathrobe. "Days of Our Lives" played in the background and the air hung heavy with the stench of tobacco and alcohol as I got a tour of the various bullet holes in the walls. The young woman had made a home for herself and her baby by throwing an old, filthy mattress on the floor. No sheets. Just a couple crumpled blankets used for a pillow, a 1980's style telephone, a radio, and random piles of mail mixed with McDonald's wrappers. She sat up when I came in, but never got up and I smiled and played with her beautiful baby boy as everyone around talked about how close they came to getting shot.

I got my education today. I never learned this in seminary. I visited a war zone. I learned about how the police don't care about neighborhoods like David's. I learned about the demonic oppression that hangs in the air over a home stricken by poverty. I learned about systemic racism by going to this black home in a black neighborhood. I learned what an assault rifle bullet hole looks like when it goes through glass, drywall, and cement. I (only slightly) learned about what it must be like to be a baby that grows up with a bottle that hasn't been washed in two weeks. I learned why David went out for a drink.

David swore that even I would go grab a beer after seeing what he wanted to show me. Well, I didn't do that. But I did stop by a Starbucks, order a coffee, and sit down over the newspaper. Same difference.

Broken Down

Kids screaming in the night,
alcohol, drugs, prostitution, theft, abuse, rape, poverty,
fear at all times
fear of bad men eyeing my daughters
fear of addicts who would beat my wife for money,
fear of darkness, darkness, darkness overwhelming.

Depression, dark clouds unending
icy cold mornings
long hours of work
church people who hate each other
phone calls, phone calls, phone calls
meetings, sermons, visits, peacemaking, silent pain
emptiness inside. Godlessness.

My kids screaming in the night,
sleeplessness, diapers, laundry, dishes, urine on the floor,
bills due, income scarce
hard work, no reward, tension with Courtney,
longing day after day for escape.

Empty motions,
aching for somewhere I know not where,
aching for someone I know not who,
suffering, suffering silently with Christ
... or sometimes without him.

Gregory Ryan Coates is Broken Down tonight.

Good Friday or Black Friday?

Pause for a moment and ponder this fact: the one event in the year which inspires millions of Americans to wake up early, bundle up and face the cold, and weather huge crowds is... shopping. Yesterday many of my friends, Christians and non-Christians both, wakened in the dark to go and participate in an annual frenzy of consumerism. $79 digital cameras, $799 50 inch HDTVs, and $100 GPS systems motivated our nation to emerge from their warm, sleepy blankets and stand in massive lines before our modern temples -- the Wal-marts and Targets and JCPennys.

The Seattle Times reported the following this morning: "In a sign of consumer desperation amid a bleak economy, the annual rite of retailing known as Black Friday turned chaotic and deadly, as shoppers scrambled for holiday bargains.

A Wal-Mart worker on Long Island, N.Y., died after being trampled by customers who broke through the doors early Friday, and other workers were trampled as they tried to rescue the man. At least four other people, including a woman who was eight months pregnant, were taken to hospitals." This god has literally turned us into cannibals.

I am a pastor. And I know for a fact that if I asked my congregation to come to church at 4 am on Good Friday in order to memorialize the death of our Lord Jesus Christ, I could count on about 4 people showing up.

Is there any doubt in anyone's mind who the God of our country is? Pause for a moment and reflect on the contrast between Good Friday and Black Friday. Which garners more enthusiasm? Which loosens our wallets? Which motivates a massive turnout? Which excites people to the extent that they will wait in lines for hours?

Jesus is starving. Jesus is cold, naked, and homeless. Jesus is being ravaged by AIDS and we, his children, prefer to pledge our allegiance to Black Friday instead of participating in Good Friday.

God, have mercy.

A Friendly Game of Monopoly

This evening at our monthly all-church game night, I played a game of Monopoly with three teens and an adult from the neighborhood. I stuck out like a sore thumb. Unlike my competition, I was able to do basic math in my head and, when it came to wheeling and dealing, my fellow players often lacked some common sense. For example, they were always more interested in CASH. Cold, hard cash here and now -- something to buy a cheeseburger with. It didn't occur to some of them that property ultimately held more value than cash because it could generate more wealth in the long run. I watched with amusement as one of the teens yelled "Aww, snap!" in jubilation as he sold a set of three properties valued around $600 for about $650. As you might guess, I gradually began to accumulate masses of wealth and one by one eliminated my competition.

It started as just a game of Monopoly with some of my poor, uneducated friends from a few blocks down. It ended with me in deep thought about systemic economic injustice.

I was born in Lexington, KY to two parents with college degrees, one of whom was working on a Masters. They read to me at night, fed me three square meals a day, put me to bed at a decent hour, and took me to the doctor when I got sick. My father loved my mother and treated her with dignity. I enjoyed green grass and found ample room to run and play in the great outdoors. Furthermore, my parents instilled in me a system of values about hard work, responsibility, and discipline all undergirded by a robust ethical system from the Judeo-Christian heritage. I did not choose this life; it chose me. I could just as well have been a Buddhist in Guangzhou, a nomad in Somalia, or a gypsy.

As I looked around the table, I thought about the lives of my "competition." The other white player at the table was the son of an alcoholic. His mother left him when he was a few years old and he's only seen her once ever since -- she apparently married some rich guy, but never sends a check or birthday card. I've been to his house; the holes in the walls are clearly the results of punches thrown by an angry man. And the stench of the living room is what you might expect to find in the home of an unemployed, overweight, wifeless alcoholic who watches 16 hours of TV each day and lives off of his kid's SSI. The other three of my competitors were part of the same family: a young mother perhaps a year older than myself who has a 14 year old son and 12 year old daughter. This household is once again led by a single parent. The 14 year old son is clearly mentally retarded and the girl is incredibly intelligent, but embarrassed to show it in front of her peers for fear of being excluded from their community. Whereas I was tucked in at night and kissed on the forehead, it is not uncommon for my 14 year old friend to tell me that he once again had to sleep on the porch even though it was raining and in the upper 30s. He had pissed of his mom again.

The game of monopoly wasn't really much of a challenge. Sure, we all started from "Go" with $1500 cash, but it was over before it began. They watched in amazement as I built up my empire to squash them and shouted, "Daaaang... you smart!"

You see, some people in this world seem to think that every human being starts at "Go" with $1500 in their pocket. The rest is up to hard work and intelligence. The rich will get rich because they deserve it... they worked hard and made the sacrifices. The poor likewise deserve their fate since they are lazy and make stupid choices. But more than ever I am convinced that this is The Great American Lie.

Some people are born into this world like myself -- with Park Place and Boardwalk already in their stash. They got it from their parents who got it from their parents who exploited the "niggers" to climb to the top of the heap. I entered the game with hotels on all the dark blue and dark green rectangles; they entered it owing me money.

I know some people find the idea of redistribution of wealth to be morally repugnant. Personally, I'm not too bothered by it. I see it as one way that we can right the wrongs of our past, even the playing field, and make sure the game isn't fixed before it even gets started.

How Do I Get There?

I have heard the call, Lord. You've asked me to empty myself and take on the very nature of a slave, to consider others to be better than myself, and to become nothing. You have called me to die so that I might live and to become the least so that I might be the greatest. You have told me to take up my cross and sometimes I can do this... for a few minutes or even a few hours, but then I drop it and run back like a pathetic addict to the comforts with which I can medicate my pain.

Computer games, food, soda, movies, laziness, time on Facebook, medications, bursts of anger over insignificant things... I turn to them instead of you. Sloth, lust, gluttony, avarice, wrath, despair, pride. Lord (if I may be so bold as to call you that), I am a slave to them all. I help the poor at my door, but only so much. I give him my shoes, but I don't invite him into my house for a meal. Or at least not everytime.

I've heard the call; I know your will. I just can't do it. The power isn't there. The words of your servant John ring in my head: "Anyone who is a child of God does not sin." But I sin. I do it all the time. I do it willingly and defiantly. I make a habit of it, of choosing to please Greg Coates instead of others and instead of you. And I feel terrible about it; I'm overwhelmed with guilt.

Surely this isn't the life you want me to live. Surely you want to take me to new places and see new wonders. You want to make a saint out of this broken, stubborn man, but I just don't know how to get there. I've tried the Bible reading, the fasting, the prayer, the serving the poor, the taking the sacraments, the accountability, the small group and one-on-one discipleship groups, the revival meetings, the voracious reading of Christian mystics, the regular attendance to church, the going on the mission field and leaving everyone behind, the preaching and teaching and scrubbing dirty floors and hugging the drug addicts. All rubbish. It's not doing it. I'm not there and I want to be. How do I get there?

Send me an e-mail if you don't mind. I check it quite often.

Consistently Pro-Life

Good ol' Chuck Colson recently lamented the election of Obama with the following words: "The President-elect, along with his newly strengthened allies in Congress, opposes almost every pro-life and pro-family position conservative Evangelicals and conservative Catholics have fought for so hard."

I am so sick of conservatives claiming to have the edge on "pro-life" and "pro-family" positions!

It's true that the right tends to be pro-life and the left pro-choice, or, as I like to say, "anti-life" when it comes to abortion. But is this all it means to have a consistent ethic of life? Hardly. It is equally pro-life to be opposed to all of the machinations of war which destroy human life on massive scales and consider the death of innocent women and children to be "collateral damage." Take a long look at the pictures coming out of Iraq and Afghanistan and tell me that the Republican party is "pro-life."

Being "pro-life" ought to include refusing to play God with someone's soul by choosing when they should live and when they should be put to death. The United States, along with China and several radical Islamic countries, leads the world in executions. This is spearheaded by many "pro-life" Republicans.

And why is it that the religious right will fight tooth and nail for a child to be born into this world, but as soon as that child is born, they are on their own -- without health care and without structures that prevent the child from being malnourished or sucked into systems of poverty? I only wish evangelicals were as loudly advocating for our toddlers as they are advocating for our unborn. But that great pro-lifer George Bush vetoed a bill that would have provided basic health care to kids under five years old -- in the richest country in the world, no less. Is the right consistently pro-life? I don't think so.

For 20 of the past 28 years, a Republican has been in the White House. During that entire time, promises were made to us that Roe v Wade would be overturned. It's beginning to look to me like the right has been using this issue to form a coalition for the purposes of perpetuating their own power. I honestly doubt the sincerity of many so-called pro-life Republicans who claim to be pro-life, but when pressed on the issue cannot even promise to nominate a pro-life supreme court justice if the opportunity came along (as McCain recently admitted).

Let's expand our definition of "pro-life" to mean opposition to the following things which bring death:

abortion,

the poverty that leads young women to chose abortion,

euthanasia,

war and war-mongering,

the global weapons trade,

extreme poverty,

environmental degradation which poisons the water our kids drink,

capital punishment, and

genocide taking place in countries that are irrelevant to our own "national interest."

That's a pro-life agenda worth advancing -- and it's not one owned by either the Republicans or Democrats.

Ode to Eve

My long slumber is ended,
awake at last I find myself,
alive and eager to live anew,
this child has resurrected me.

The ears, the cries, the simple sighs,
the sleep, the calm, the peacefulness --
reminders of the fabric of life;
Love is center, eternal, abiding love.

Eve, you make this hard man cry
my numbness now has gone;
I dream again of happy days
of trees to climb and melting ice cream.

L'chaim -- to life -- which begins again
To hugs and kisses and snuggles
To coffee and books and stories with friends
I thank you, Eve, for this reminder:

... life is worth living.

What the USA and Zimbabwe Have In Common

You might not think that the US and Mugabe's oppressive regime in Zimbabwe have much in common, but yesterday they agreed on one thing. 147 nations belonging to the United Nations voted in favor of a treaty to limit and regulate the global arms trade. This trade contributes to the death of 1,000 people every day according to some human rights groups. However, the United States, by far the world's largest weapons exporter, and the government of Zimbabwe cast the two dissenting votes.

President Dwight Eisenhower warned many years ago of the growing military-industrial complex. His warnings have gone unheeded. The USA now gives the finger to the world's attempts to reduce violence. Limiting the arms trade, you see, would hurt our precious economy. And who cares if we indirectly contribute to the deaths of thousands of people around the world? At least it is making us money.

Ironman, the Modernist

Courtney and I watched Ironman last night. Fun action movie. It also got me thinking about our own sense of identity as Americans and how this is constantly reflected in our comic heros.

Americans have always perceived themselves as that lone vigilante for justice. The myth of the cowboy or Batman or Mr. Smith in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington pervades our psyche. We are suspicious of totalitarian power and the injustice perpetuated on masses of people by the "evil" ones of the world. Interestingly, in the movie Ironman the protagonist realizes that his weapon-making business has been falling into the wrong hands and as he witnesses his own weapons being used against innocent civilians, he undergoes a sort of conversion. He decides to stop producing weapons, much to the dismay of the Powers.

But then the movie takes an interesting (and expected) turn. Our protagonist decides that he can no longer trust justice to be done by anyone... except for himself. So he creates a flying, missile-shooting, invincible metal suit for himself and, in good American fashion, goes out and kicks some arse.

This is the modernist illusion. We are the good guys; they are the bad guys. It's our moral duty to kill the bad guys so that they don't do bad things anymore. We do not trust others with power so we reluctantly take up power upon ourselves so that the "evil" ones won't rule over the "good." Such dualism, says postmodernism, is an illusion and I happen to agree. None of us are the good guys and none of us are the bad guys. And we are certainly not trustworthy with our Iron Suit. Soon we, the powerful ones, become corrupted and before we know it, we're the ones killing the women and children and calling it "collateral damage."

It wouldn't make a very good movie, but if the Ironman had been a postmodernist instead of a modernist and had allowed himself to be suspicious of all controlling metanarratives, including his own, then he wouldn't have made an Iron Suit. He would have, as Jesus said, "Put down his sword."

Ironman, a fun movie I must admit, perpetuates the myth of our own self-righteousness. When will we stop seeing everyone else as infected by power's corrupting influence except ourselves? When will we stop playing the executioner? When will we learn to trust the One who knows everyone's story perfectly and who is able to mete out justice flawlessly? When will we set aside our one-man, iron-suited vigilante ways and instead start bearing the cross?

The Lazy Missionary

I have now been classified as a "missionary" twice in my lifetime. The first was during my year in China as my wife and I taught English to college sophomores in Tianjin. The second is my current appointment in inner city Indianapolis where I am considered by many to be an "urban missionary." Before ever taking either of these positions, I thought of missionaries as those lone, brave souls who are out in uncomfortable places working tirelessly for the spread of the gospel. Now, having been a so-called missionary, I have a different, more complex view.

It is entirely possible for a missionary, like any Christian, to be completely lazy. In fact, I would have to admit that my year in China was in some ways the least stressful year of my life. I think Courtney and I watched more movies that year than we ever had before or since. It was incredibly tempting for us in the midst of all of the culture stress to isolate ourselves in our little apartment, spending time playing games, reading, watching movies, or surfing the web. Meanwhile, our friends back home were just sure that Greg and Courtney were always out hugging and kissing Chinese orphan babies. And although we did in fact hug and kiss Chinese orphan babies, we only did so for two hours every other Friday afternoon.

My point is this... although locating ourselves among the needy is an important piece of the puzzle in mission, it is not the whole picture. I know of one nameless individual who is currently situated in Rwanda and spends huge amounts of his/her time playing a Nintendo Wii. I do not pass judgment on this individual because I know how incredibly tempting it can be for a missionary to medicate his or her pain with entertainment and the comforts of the American lifestyle.

Missionaries, like any other Christian, are vulnerable to laziness and the temptations of comfort. When I pictured myself entering into the inner city, I had in mind walking the streets at night with bullets whizzing over my head as I traveled bravely to visit the drug addict down the street and save him from suicide. But right now I am instead sitting in my bathrobe at my computer in my warm, quiet home. So for those of you out there who might think of missionaries as martyrs, I'll just say this... not all missionaries are equal. Teachers in China are a far cry from Teresa of Calcutta.

Now I'm going to go make myself a cup of coffee.

Top 6 Books from Seminary

I just thought I would share with you the best six books that I read in my years at seminary and why I liked them so much. Hopefully, one of them will intrigue you and you'll decide to pick it up.

6) Colossians Remixed by Brian Walsh and Sylvia Keesmaat. This is a brilliant and creative commentary on the book of Colossians. Walsh and Keesmaat argue that Paul intended for Christians to subvert the empires of this world and stand radically apart from governments as a challenge to the "powers" which rule our planet. They furthermore interpret Christianity in light of postmodernity's discomfort with metanarratives and offer a hopeful version of the faith which will be not only palatable, but appealing to our diverse culture.

5) The Great Divorce by C. S. Lewis. One of my all time favorites! I have read it four or five times. Fictional account of a journey from hell to heaven offering brilliant insights on the nature of salvation, hell, heaven, and the justice of God. The story articulates for me better than any other why God is love and yet hell exists.

4) Surprised by Hope by N. T. Wright. Read anything and everything by N. T. Wright, but this is him at his best. Wright argues against the hyper-spiritualized 'pie-in-the-sky' picture of heaven which dominates evangelical theology and replaces it with the biblical picture of the resurrection of the body. The implications of belief in resurrection are far-reaching and impact how we go about mission today as the church. Finally we can leave behind the weak, diluted gospel of just "saving souls" and embrace the full, robust gospel of saving people.

3) The Story of a Soul: The Autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux. Not nearly as intellectually challenging as the rest of these books, this simple autobiography is filled with profound spirituality. I cried my way through the end as God showed me how to be irrelevant for him. A powerful vision of the Christian life which stands in sharp contrast to all of the self-improvement devotional tripe available in Family Christian Bookstores.

2) The Politics of Jesus by John Howard Yoder. I believe this book literally changed how I will read the Bible forever. Yoder hits the nail on the head when he accuses evangelicals of "hyper-spiritualizing" the message of the Sermon on the Mount. I expected a philosophical work and found a brilliant biblical commentary instead. I believe anyone who reads and fully understands this work will seriously consider becoming a pacifist.

1) Exclusion and Embrace by Miroslav Volf. The best book I read in all of my time in seminary. Born among the conflict in the Balkans, Volf reflects on how to live out Jesus' message of reconciliation in the midst of deep hurt. His message extends beyond the political realm and invades our lives as it challenges us to make peace with our enemies and live in harmony as God has intended. (It also is a far better resource on how to have a happy marriage than anything you could get from Focus on the Family).

Should I Vote for Obama?

I'm really wrestling with my vote this year. Not that I'm even considering casting a vote for McCain. But I am wrestling with if I should vote for Obama or not vote at all. The problem is that Obama is pro-choice and I believe that abortion is perhaps one of the greatest evils in our world today. But I agree with Obama on so many other issues. Below are the issues that concern me most in order of importance and how they are weighing in on my decision to vote:

1. The illegalization of abortion. I am convinced that abortion is murder pure and simple. Obama supports the right for women to kill their children even in the final trimester of pregnancy. I think this is criminal. -10 points for Obama

2. A Peace-making foreign policy. McCain is a war-maker in the tradition of our current administration. Obama would be a breath of fresh air not only to our country, but to the rest of the world since he believes in using war as a last resort rather than war mongering as the Republicans would have us do. + 5 points for Obama

3. The elimination of poverty. McCain represents more government apathy in the war on poverty and, I believe, is a pawn of the rich and powerful. Obama, as a community organizer on the south side of Chicago, certainly has more of a passion for addressing issues of systemic poverty and oppression as I do. + 5 points for Obama

4. A compassionate approach to our immigrants. Actually, McCain and Obama will both be a step in the right direction for our nation as we overcome the xenophobic of the Bush administration. I could support McCain on this issue. +3 points for both candidates.

5. Care for the environment. Again, both candidates are better than Bush. But I find Obama's proposals for investment in alternative energy sources to be the right direction for the country as opposed to McCain's insistence that we find more sources of oil. + 2 points for Obama.

6. Obama is black and we need a black president in this country. + 1 for Obama.

So there you have it. Should I vote for Obama or not vote at all? What would God have me do? I look forward to all of your responses.

Peeking at the Kingdom

One of my favorite preachers, Steve DeNeff, hit the nail on the head in a sermon I recently heard. I am so appreciative of his words that I want to transcribe them and share them with you:

"There is a kingdom. You've never seen it, but let me describe it to you.

There is a kingdom where the most powerful person in the room divests himself of all of his power so that all of his power resides not in himself but, like the Triune God, it rests in the people he has given it to. He is only powerful as they are powerful.

There is a kingdom where man is not measured by the things he possesses, but by the things he gives away.

There is a kingdom where truth is not pursued to accomplish an air of superiority, but where truth is a mere tool to accomplish the things in this world that God has sent us into this world to accomplish.

There is a kingdom where the most powerful person in the room, the all-transcendent God, the Holy One so awesome that if you would look at Him you would die... this person gets down and lets little children walk on his knees.

There is a kingdom where the most holy person in this room is surrounded by those who are precisely unholy."

I confess that I often loose sight of this kingdom. I am thankful to Pastor Steve for reminding me of it. Oh how Christians need to catch a glimpse of this kingdom! We would no longer insist on our rights, we would no longer fight our enemies, we would no longer buy into the upwardly mobile lies of our culture, we would no longer play purity games with one another.

Lord Jesus, I pray that you show us this alternate universe. Come, Lord Jesus, come.

Prayer for Mrs. N

On my way back from exercising this morning, I prayed that God would let me follow him all the way to Calvary. I had forgotten what an ugly place that was.

Mrs. N came to me today to ask for prayer. Through her sobbing, I pieced together that she had been abused as a child by her father, turned to prostitution as an adult in order to help pay the bills until her kids could move out on their own, and just recently had been hit in the face by her husband of many years. With her health declining and inability to pay for any medical bills, she recently turned again to "walking the streets," but as a woman now well into her late fifties, no man finds her desirable. Seeing the wrinkled face of this child of God tell me that she had tried to sell her body, but wasn't able to find a buyer was perhaps the saddest thing I have ever witnessed in my life. I can only cry out to God.

Gracious Father, I still believe in you although it is difficult to do so on a day like this. How such horrendous evils can be permitted to exist in this world is beyond me. But I turn to you in prayer because I have nowhere else to turn. Take Mrs. N in your hands and wrap your arms around her. Protect her from her husband. Give her self-worth and dignity so that she'll never again try to sell her body for money. Provide for her health needs. Clothe her just as you clothe the lilies of the field. Feed her as you feed the birds of the air. Grant that she may one day live in your kingdom for all eternity and enjoy the fellowship of the Triune God. Make her beautiful again. Amen."

Why I Like Headaches

I look forward to headaches. I know it sounds crazy, but here's why. Whenever I get a headache, then I get to take my headache medicine. The medicine I've been prescribed is not a narcotic and it is completely non-addictive, but it does make me feel better not only physically, but emotionally as well. In other words, when I get a headache, then I have an excuse to be put into a good mood for the rest of the day.

This poses to me a very difficult theological problem which I have written about in the past. When I take my Tramadol, I not only sense a physical relaxation, but I also find it easier to pray. I feel as though a cloud has lifted from my mind and I am able to see the beauty in the mundane, trivial things which fill my everyday world. I am friendlier to friends and family. I laugh more. I stress less. The clouds of my depression disperse momentarily.

I recall hearing that the man who invented LSD actually did so because he was interested most of all in human spirituality. He believed that the use of his drug, if properly taken, could draw a person closer to God, and to his dying day he regretted how the drug had been abused for selfish purposes. I'm beginning to wonder if Tramadol isn't accomplishing a very, very mild version of what this inventor intended.

What am I to make of the fact that I feel closer to God when on my headache meds? What am I to make of the fact that I am happier, friendlier, more patient, and less depressed? Shouldn't this be something that I can accomplish through prayer and the infilling of the Holy Spirit? I'm fascinated by spirituality -- in fact, you might say it is my all consuming passion. And so I find it quite disturbing that a little white pill is able to (shall I say "unnaturally"?) induce a mildly pleasant spiritual experience that my devotional life cannot.

I want to be happy. I want happiness more than anything and I believe that God made me this way. I want to know why prayer and fasting and serving the poor and taking communion and reading the Scriptures devotionally is unable to do for me what this little pill does with such consistency.

Jesus Has Lice

After listening for weeks to her excuses, I finally agreed that our pre-school would take her two girls for a day so that she could go out and find a job. Well, today was the day. And not only did she bring in her two girls, but also two others girls belonging to a friend of hers.

The beautiful 3 year old and her younger sister were covered in dirt and grime. Their clothes were worn and tattered. But underneath the filth, an unforgettable smile beamed up at me. (This was the same girl we found eating raw meat a few weeks ago at food pantry because she was so hungry and her mother was no neglectful).

We discovered that these girls were absolutely crawling with lice. The teachers did their best to scrub and clean them, but the lice still remain. The best we can do is play with them, but keep them separated from the other children.

Jesus didn't quarantine the lepers, but I must admit that I took my little girl out of the pre-school today and brought her home. Does that mean my love is more limited than His?

This little church is trying its best today to serve the Jesus with lice that has been brought into our company. But it's hard. Sometimes we sure would prefer to serve clean people, but that's not God's call. He wants us to play with the lice-filled ones.

Request for Advice

Friends who read this blog, I want to ask you for some advice. Recently I posted my earlier blog entry entitled "Where the Hell is the Church?" to Facebook for a wider audience to read. You might recall that post as a rather angry expression of my dissatisfaction with the church which has, in my opinion, largely neglected its mission to the poor. An old friend of mine responded to this post with a message to me and I would like to share with you our correspondence below:

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My friend wrote:

There aren't many other people I would bring this up to, Greg, but I know you will take it for what it is worth:

You aren't going to enlist people in our cause by coming off as angry and bitter. What few people you get that way will not be there for the right reasons. If you love what you are doing, say so. If it's real, then people will see that and a certain number will want to come along. It may not be a huge number, but it will be an effective force, and God may even make your efforts go further than you thought possible, just like He did when the disciples fed the five thousand.

I responded:

Thanks for these words, friend. I've just spent the last half hour thinking about them and praying over them. Perhaps you are right. I was quite reluctant to post this most recent note which I originally wrote only for my few blog readers. I don't want to come off as just another "angry liberal." I know how much of a turnoff that can be. On the other hand, I must admit that I am indeed angry. I am angry that the church is not, in my humble opinion, accomplishing its mission. And I'm not quite sure what to do with that anger. If it is righteous anger then, just as Jeremiah spoke out to his people, I am also obligated to speak out. (In fact, you might accuse Jeremiah as "coming off angry and bitter" given many of the things he says). This is the constant tension that I wrestle with as one who feels called to be a prophet: I want to speak what I believe the church needs to hear even if it is unpleasant. At the same time, I don't want to be a bitter and angry person. Maybe you can help me here.

Let's take an example of something we both agree on. Both of us are adamantly opposed to abortion. Now if one night I get inspired to write down my honest anger and outrage over the murderous killing of our children and write about it, this might come off as angry and bitter to some (especially those who disagree with me). But, assuming that my cause is just, would I be wrong in expressing such indignation? I just don't know the answer to that question. Sometimes I think "yes" and sometimes "no." Your response has hit me hard probably because for years I have wrestled with the very issue that you raise. Another factor to consider is that a number of people have written me and told me what a blessing my post was to them. So I'm not sure what to do with that. Let's keep this dialog going because I deeply respect your opinions. Thanks for courageously advising me of your thoughts.

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So now, my dear blog readers, I turn this question to you. Is it right to cry out in anger about what I consider to be social injustices or would it be better to maintain a silent witness through actions alone? Would remaining silent be more virtuous or would it actually be an act of neglect? I look forward to your responses.

A Word of Truth from Our Military

Adm. Michael Mullen, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, recently testified in front of congress. He made one of the most brilliant statements to ever come from a military leader and I just had to share it:

We cannot kill our way to victory.

I would just like to point out that I follow a man who said this centuries ago. In fact, he redefined victory entirely. Refusing to participate in the perpetual struggles for power in which nation-states have been participating since the dawn of time, he revealed a new power: a power which suffered and bled and forgave out of love.

I commend you Admiral Mullen. I think Jesus would tell you that you are not far from the kingdom of God.

Eating with the Other

Tonight I sat at a table with a woman who has been working at Burger King for the last 22 years. To this point in my life, I always considered Burger King workers to be high school kids who wanted some extra spending money for their weekends away with friends. But tonight I sat and ate with a middle aged black woman who has made her career out of flipping burgers. She is not bitter about her lot in life. In fact, she's just glad that she's never been assigned to work the cash register since that is, in her opinion, a much more unpleasant job.

She sat and told me her story which, I must admit, I did not fully understand since we speak very different forms of English. Once addicted to hard drugs and alcohol, she had a mystical encounter with "something" which frightened her to the extent that she sought God in a church and found "salvation." She claims that at that moment her life was completely changed and she never went back to taking drugs again. She still smokes and has not been able to give that up, but credits God for delivering her from her alcoholism and drug addiciton.

As I sat and looked at this Burger King worker, I saw more than a Burger King worker. I saw a woman who looked different than me, spoke different than me, and thought different than me. And yet we had one thing in common: both of us would be dead without Jesus. She would have died long ago of a drug overdose or a gunshot wound inflicted during a narcotics exchange turned bad. I would have given in to despair and ended my life.

I am thankful tonight that God is at work in the lives of people who seem completely invisible to our society. I am thankful that God thinks that this Burger King worker is worth enough to save. I am thankful that in His economy, she is riotously celebrated.

Thank you, God, for saving the Other.

A Prayer

Mother Teresa adapted a prayer from the Bhagavad Gita and made it her own. I now make it mine as well:

"Lord, Teach us that even as the wonder of the stars in heaven only reveals itself in the silence of the night, so the wonder of God reveals itself in the silence of the soul. That in the silence of our hearts we may see the scattered leaves of all the universe bound up by love."

Atheism, Morality, and the Great Insult

My feeble mind is gradually coming to understand the full, radical implications of atheism. And as I discover these, I cannot help but be incredibly insulted.

An atheist who still holds to some notion of morality (and most at least try to) is forced to admit that our inward moral inclinations are nothing more than genetic tricks played upon us by the process of natural selection to aid in the propagation of the human species. If I love my wife and feel that it is right to be faithful to her, this is because the impersonal, blind force of evolution has hard-wired me to think this way so that humankind will continue to dominate other forms of life. Monogamy is not "right" in the sense that it reflects some sort of supra-natural absolute; it is "right" only in that it coincides with my genetic make-up. The theist then asks, "And why ought I to do be moral if my morality is rooted in nothing more than chemicals, genes, and blind chance?" A good question, in my opinion.

This is where Nietzsche boldly declares the full implications of atheism. There is no objective "right" and "wrong." All that exists are "brute facts." Morality, then, is the ability to master these facts and no longer be hampered by petty moral codes. Pity and compassion are sins because they are signs of weakness. Morality is the "will to power" -- the ability to grab life by the balls and shape it according to your own will. In other words, Mother Teresa is not only stupid (for she fails to recognize her concern for the poor as a trick of nature), she is also downright evil (since she wrongly devotes her life to a cause which is incongruent with nature's brute facts).

This atheist line is all, of course, logically consistent. If you are willing to look at the genocide in Darfur and say "It is not evil. It simply is," then at least you are being true to your own philosophy. This atheist must be willing to look at a young man who gave up a better paying job, a more comfortable life, and a safe neighborhood for the sake of living incarnationally among the poor and say, "Poor misguided, Greg. He's devoting himself to a lie. He doesn't understand that he is a misfiring, a mistake of nature." (Richard Dawkinks calls "the urge to kindness -- to altruism, to generosity, to empathy, to pity" a "blessed" Darwinian misfiring).

Well I say to you, Mr. Dawkins, that I find that to be rather insulting. Fortunately for you, I believe it is a moral imperative to not retaliate when others insult you and mock you and say all kinds of evil about you. In fact, I believe that I ought to bless you and pray for you in spite of your huge insult. And, lucky for you, I believe that these imperatives come to me not from blind chance, but from the One who holds in his hands all Goodness and Beauty and Truth. Therefore, I forgive you and I hope you don't think it foolish of me to do so.

Letter to a Biblical Scholar

I came across this quote and just had to share it. The following is from Gary Willis' book What Jesus Meant (pp 34-35):

When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle... I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination -- end of debate. I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other elements of God's law and how to follow them.

1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may posses slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is on her period of menstrual uncleanliness (Lev. 15:19-24). The problem is: how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.

4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasant aroma to the Lord (Lev. 1:9). The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

5. I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?

6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination (Lev. 11:10), it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this? Are there degrees of abomination?

7. Leviticus 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?

8. Most of my friends get their hair trimmed around the temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Leviticus 19:27. How should they die?

9. I know from Leviticus 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

... I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy considerable expertise in such matters, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.

i'm tired

i'm tired of being nice to everyone
i'm tired of worrying that my daughter might get lice from her friends at church
i'm tired of dealing with everyone's problems but my own
i'm tired of people who make my wife feel guilty for not doing what the former pastor's wife did
i'm tired of grouchy old women who drive people away with their bitterness
i'm tired of knowing people are talking behind my back
i'm tired of being lied to
i'm tired of working hard and seeing no results
i'm tired of living in chaos
i'm tired of trying to help others out of addiction when i myself am an addict
i'm tired of the silence from God
i'm tired of poor listeners, dogmatism, and pharisees
i'm tired of medicating myself with all the wrong things
i'm tired of not seeing my daughter before she goes to bed because i'm needed by others
i'm tired of being needed at all
i'm tired of constantly being evaluated by others
i'm tired of the stench of poverty
i'm tired of trying to find evidence of God in the inner city and finding none
i'm tired of trying to change the world and make it a better place
i'm tired of people who smell bad, have no manners, and take me for granted
i'm tired of making sacrifices for others and not even being thanked
i'm tired of housework, homework, writing sermons, heading committees, driving people to places, changing dirty diapers, paying bills, fixing the internet, paying late fees on movies i never watched, trying to be a perfect father and perfect husband and perfect pastor and perfect Christian. All I want to do is sit down and watch the Olympics.
i'm tired.

10 Reasons Why I Am A Liberal

Those who remember me from my high school and college days are oftentimes surprised to find that I have moved from being a loudmouthed conservative to now being an equally loudmouthed liberal. In fact, I even hosted a conservative political talk radio show in college. I’ve had some friends ask me why I am now a liberal and I would like to give a few of my reasons why. So below I offer ten reasons why Greg Coates has switched over to the “dark side”:

1) The way I interpret the Bible has changed. I have come to see that a society is judged by God based on how well it cares for its poor and marginalized. The repeated refrain about taking care of the orphan, widow, and alien found in both testaments has convinced me that as a nation we need to provide safety nets for those who are struggling with very basic needs such as food, clothing, shelter, and health care. I guess that makes me a liberal.

2) Conservativism in America is rooted in extremely strong patriotism. Living in China and seeing the world through the eyes of another culture convinced me that America is not the center of the universe. There are other ways of living that are equally legitimate. Although not all political systems are created equal, all people of all nations are of equal value to God. I refuse any longer to base my political ideology on blind nationalism and the idol of uncritical patriotism. I guess that makes me a liberal.

3) Not all people start at the same place in life. Some people try to work hard, get good grades, and climb the social ladder, but are unable to do so because systems of oppression keep them down. Just take a look at an inner city public school and ask yourself if all people have equal opportunities in this world. Because of this, I support initiatives which attempt to remedy these imbalances. I guess that makes me a liberal.

4) I have come to believe that the earth does not exist for us to exploit, but rather we are stewards of this planet. The earth is good; God has entrusted it to us. As evidence increasingly surfaces from scientists that humanity is causing permanent damage to the earth, I believe the proper response of Christians is to support plans that limit the burning of fossil fuels even if this slows the growth of our most sacred economy. I guess that makes me a liberal.

5) I believe that we ought to do unto others as we would have them do unto us. For this reason, I stand on the side of the immigrant who wishes to enter our country, work hard, pay taxes, and contribute to the American culture with their own unique linguistic, religious, and cultural backgrounds. A moral country must welcome people with open arms and show hospitality to those who are suffering. I guess that makes me a liberal.

6) I no longer accept the notion that what America deems to be right and just and the proper way to live is necessarily universally true. For this reason, we must not impose our will upon other sovereign nations simply because it benefits us and advances the “American way of life.” Transplanting democracy into other parts of the world is not our job. I guess that makes me a liberal.

7) I follow a man who did not retaliate when others hurt him and who taught me to do the same. I trust in God for vengeance and do not trust myself with the responsibility of doing violence to another human being. Jesus says that I ought to love my enemies and bless those who curse me. I believe this is a profoundly political statement. For this reason, I oppose the gods of militarism and warfare. I guess that makes me a liberal.

8) I think that the richest nation on earth, the richest nation that has ever existed in the history of humankind can probably afford to provide basic health care to its citizens. I think it is a crime that a nation like ours cannot provide a way for even little children to see a doctor. I think it is a crime that in a nation like ours, many worry about getting sick or injured for fear of bankruptcy. I guess that makes me a liberal.

9) I once thought that the goodness of people’s hearts would provide for the basic needs of their fellow man. But as I study history and contemporary culture, I find that humans are wicked to the core. They pursue their own profit even at the expense of others. For this reason, government policies which curb basic human depravity and greed and instead direct resources to those who have no voice or power seem humane, moral, and reasonable to me. I guess that makes me a liberal.

10) I happen to believe that there are worse evils in the world than being gay. I believe that God loves homosexuals and that he created them the way that they are. While I still believe that homosexuality in practice is a sin, I believe that such inward inclinations are not inherently sinful. I believe that matters like environmental degradation, exploitation of the poor, and military aggression are more serious issues than making sure that gay people have no political rights. I guess that makes me a liberal.

Well, that pretty much sums it up. I could go on at length about any of the above issues. I hope I’m not being unreasonable. But if the conclusions that I have listed above make me a liberal, then sign me up. I still love Jesus, believe it or not.

10 Reasons Why I Am A Liberal

Coming soon to this blog near you...

Progressive Revelation

The following is a post that I created for my Biblical Theology of the Old Testament class which I am currently taking online. I thought I would share as these are questions for all of my blog readers as well.

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One of the issues I have been pondering recently is the idea of
progressive revelation. I was reminded of this issue again as I read
Christopher's H. J. Wright's article in which he points out that "some
OT exclusion laws seem to be repealed... within the OT itself (e.g.
the contrast between Isa. 56:1-8 and Deut. 23:1-8)" (286). Wright
goes on to summarize, "The point then is that we cannot fully
interpret any single text with confidence that we have 'heard the mind
of God' on the matter, until it is set in the wider light of canonical
teaching" (286).

I have always accepted the idea of progressive revelation as having
the best explanatory power when dealing with difficult (shall I say,
"offensive"?) laws in the OT. I find particularly disturbing the laws
about how physically deformed and handicapped people were not able to
enter into the temple of God. This completely contradicts my entire
understanding of the ministry of Jesus which celebrates the least and
marginalized of our world. I think the best way to understand such
offensive OT laws is to read them contextually within their culture
and as having been nullified by God's later progressive revelation.
But this is not without problems.

First, if God truly does reveal his will progressively, then why do we
have a closed canon? Do we believe that God spoke to Moses, the
prophets, Jesus, and the authors of the NT, but then after the canon
was formed and solidified that he stopped speaking? I doubt that we
believe this. But if we reject such a notion then why give more
authority to the Bible than say the writings of the Didache or the
patristics or, heck, even C. S. Lewis?

Secondly, does an acceptance of progressive revelation entail
rejecting the notion of absolute, timeless truth? For example, if it
was once declared right by God to exclude the physically handicapped
from his temple, but it is now considered wrong to exclude the
physically handicapped from his sanctuaries and temples throughout the
world, then did God's will change? Is what was once right now wrong
and once wrong now right? If so, is all morality contingent purely
upon historical-cultural location? And if that is true then do we
have any right to declare that the Bible is a more credible source for
ethics than the Quran or Bagavad-Gita or the pop psychology of Oprah?

I eagerly anticipate your responses because I honestly don't know the
answers to these questions and I think they are very important.
Thanks!

How Appropriate

I was intrigued by the following story published recently in the Wall Street Journal:

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Army uses giant video game as recruiting tool

Even the U.S. Army finds it needs innovative recruiting tactics. So it has developed a traveling exhibit, the Virtual Army Experience, that lets the audience climb into Humvees and Black Hawks and shoot at "genocidal indigenous forces" on a big screen.

The video game is based on one created by the Army several years ago and is considered a recruiting tool and it also gives the Army a new way to relate to the public.

Before the players can start, they need to give their contact information to an Army representative, who enters it into a database -- and they're asked if they're interested in enlisting.

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I would like to thank the army for proving a point that peace activists have been trying to make for years. The very first objective of any war machine is to convince the general public that our enemy is not human. We take away their faces, their voices, and their God-given imago Dei and instead label them as "genocidal indigenous forces" -- something akin to the man-eating aliens from the movie Independence Day. We conveniently neglect to mention the fact that our enemies have families and loved ones, have hobbies and interests, have favorite flavors of ice cream and favorite TV programs. Instead we make the enemy into a video game. We dehumanize and demonize them so that we don't feel so bad about killing them.

I would propose another video game. A game where you sit down with someone of another culture and learn about his family and what makes him laugh. And after a few hours of learning about this human being, seeing pictures of his kids, and sharing a drink with him, you are asked to blow his head off.

It might not be a very effective recruiting tool, but at least these young men and women who play it would know what they are signing up for.

Where the Hell is the Church?

The seven year old boy three doors down just slashed his wrists. Fortunately they found him before he bled to death. He was mad because social services were going to take him and his seven brothers and sisters away from their drug addicted mommy. We fed all the kids cookies, but, Oh God, they need more than that.

Mrs. E came to me crying last Monday. She's afraid that her embittered next door neighbor will seek revenge on her family for having reported him to the police for beating his wife every night. The man is now out of jail and knows who turned him in. She's already been assaulted once (in front of our church while waiting in the food pantry line) and is afraid he'll burn down her house like he did to those other buildings. She asks for prayer 'cause she thinks her brother will soon be killed.

The bastard child S. bears the insults of even the old ladies in the church for being an illegitimate girl and having a "no good" boyfriend. She embarrassed to even say hello to me, a pastor.

E. missed prayer meeting today. I hope it's not because he has relapsed.

Mr. R came over the other day and asked for some food. We gladly took some to him, but I had to turn him down when he wanted cash as well. The poor guy was so high he could hardly keep his eyes on me. I'm not sure if I'd ever seen a high person before, but it's a pathetic sight. Such slavery.

Meanwhile, all the good Christians are out in the suburbs enjoying their lattes from Starbucks and picking out a new plasma-screen HDTV for their second living room. The thought must never occur to them that hell is only a few miles away in the direction of downtown and that God needs warriors to go fight some battles.

Where the hell is the church? And why isn't it here in hell where it should be? The seven year old and Mrs. E and bastard S. and Mr. E and Mr. R need a little bit of Jesus, but there isn't much to go around. 'Cause for some reason the church has left this neighborhood and set up shop elsewhere. I'm sitting here on 12th Street and I feel alone. And I'm mad at the church for not being here for my seven year old friend.

Where the hell are you, church?

The Alternative

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything take your Zoloft and Lexapro daily."

Fork in the Road: Another Post about Free Methodism

I published this on the Free Methodist Soul Searching blog which can be viewed at http://www.fmcna.typepad.com/soul_searching/

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The Free Methodist Church is in the middle of an identity crisis. All of us who follow the church closely know this. Once a sect on the margins of society, we have become a primarily middle-class, mainstream evangelical denomination with little to offer America that is distinctive from the other church down the street.

As a new pastor working in the inner city, I am beginning to understand the importance of co-operating with other churches in accomplishing God’s mission. And this leads me to ask the very important question: What makes the Free Methodist Church different than any other church? What do we have to offer that is unique as part of the body of Christ?

In my opinion, two options lie before us. First, we can return to our roots by once again becoming a sect which devotes itself to ministry among the poor. We can, like the early Free Methodists, choose to live lives of radical simplicity and generosity, shunning the upward mobility of American culture and standing prophetically against the increasing materialism of our age. We can do this both in families and as churches. As churches, we can decide to relocate our buildings out of the suburbs and into the inner cities of America. We can stop spending God’s precious money on padding for our pews and indoor basketball courts. (If I sound radical here, please read B. T. Roberts and I think you’ll find him much more abrasive). We can channel our funds into food pantries, community centers, homeless shelters, and soup kitchens. And as families, we could reject the middle-class American way of life with its brand name clothes, new cars, and suburban houses. All of this sacrifice is, of course, so that we could live in solidarity with the poor and provide more for their needs. As a community, we could decide to “live simply so that others might simply live.” But this option would require a deliberate shift from our focus on reaching middle to upper class America. We would make this shift not because we are convinced that middle class America needs no church -- for they certainly do -- but because this need is being met by many denominations and OUR place in the body of Christ is to minister to the marginalizes of society.

The other major option I would propose is this: we continue to target not the poor, but middle class America. However, if we choose this option, I believe we ought to overcome the denominational boundaries which separate us from other Christians. We ought to merge with the Wesleyans, Nazarenes, and other holiness denominations. As it is now, we are simply duplicating what they are doing, but oftentimes not doing it nearly as well. It would be better to extend to them our hand of fellowship and stop trying to fill the exact same niche in American evangelicalism. If this means the end of Free Methodist identity, then so be it. In my opinion, we lost our identity long ago.

The status quo will not suffice. We must choose to either become distinctive again or to merge with others who are doing the exact same things we are doing and bring unity back into the body of Christ. Personally, I prefer the first option because I think it is more “Free Methodist,” but I would be happy to see us move in either direction. We simply cannot continue with business as usual or we will miss out on what God is doing in our part of the world.

For Mrs. B

Your black skin and blue eyes betray a difficult past
of mixed races and mixed concoctions of pain
You've sought and sought and sought relief
in bottles and pills and men
But you hurt and hurt and long inside
for something you know not what
Your matted hair and yellowed teeth cannot hide your beauty
for when you smile I see God in all his majesty
I'm glad my words touched your heart and made you well with tears
but rest assured, it was not me --
the One who moved you was He that moves mountains,
the One who will make you whole again
and bring back that girlish innocence once ignorant of pain
Let us praise Him together, hand in hand, who meets us filthy beggars
and shapes our scars into a map of our salvation

Independence Day

"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America." Like most children, I used to say this each morning at school as a little boy. But as I grew older, this became more and more difficult to say. I learned that although we believed that "all men are created equal," we enslaved millions of them because of their skin color. I learned that we made treaties with the natives, broke them, and stole their land. I learned that we interned Japanese-Americans during WWII even though they were just as American as any of us. Oh well, I thought. No country is perfect. We're different now.

But are we?

We're still holding people prisoners without giving them a trial. We're still torturing people behind closed doors. We're still waging wars without thinking of the damage it does to others. We're still exploiting the planet for all its worth without thinking about our future. We're still colonialists who believe in manifest destiny. We still trample people who get in our way.

I've decided in the last few years to pledge my allegiance to something else... something much higher and nobler and longer lasting. I pledge my allegiance to the kingdom of God. A kingdom which is present with us now, but which will be fully revealed at a later time. A kingdom not dependent upon violence and the exploitation of others for its existence, but rather one that worships the Lamb who was slain. One in which St. Peter puts away his sword because a new power is being revealed. Yes, I pledge allegiance to this kingdom.

Some Christians are able, in good conscience, to pledge their allegiance to both America and Christ. I cannot. The two are far too incompatible. I must make a decision to stand up for what I believe in. Do I believe in money and power and military might and oil and "the American way of life" or do I believe in suffering alongside the crucified one?

I pledge my undivided allegiance to the Lamb of God who reveals a new way to be human. I celebrate my independence today from any other loyalty.

The Death of the Cicadas

A rare species of cicada has recently invaded our little part of the bluegrass. The noise that these swarms create can be deafening. Lydah and I have had a fun time marveling at their beauty although she didn't particularly care for it when one landed on her bare foot. This particular species has red eyes and a black body and, if what I've been told is correct, they only appear every seventeen years.

Today we returned home after two days in Indiana to find that all of the cicadas are now dead. Their brief lives had served its purpose and now the once mighty roar of the swarm has fallen silent. Lydah saw one of the dead cicadas on the ground today and asked me to pick it up and throw it into the air so that it would fly away (one of the games we had played in the preceding weeks). I tried to explain to her that they were dead and would no longer fly, but she didn't understand. So I picked up the dead cicada whose red eyes had faded to brown and threw him into the air. Lydah watched in disappointment as it thudded to the ground and, giving up on this form of entertainment, was quickly distracted by a nearby bird.

Are we humans like these cicadas? Do we appear briefly on this earth, make some noise, procreate, and then die off almost as quickly as we came? Are we just a blip on the timeline of the universe just as this species of cicada passed through birth, life, and death within a few weeks and then disappeared? Surely, if this is the human story -- if we are cicadas and nothing more -- then all hope is lost, all efforts to improve humanity are in vein, all striving after God and goodness and love is entirely meaningless. Please pardon the sacrilege here, but if this is the human story then can we really call the holocaust or the current crisis in Darfur a tragedy? Are these not simply brute facts and somber reminders of the fate of us all?

Some will argue that meaning can be found even if our lives are like those of the cicada. I cannot find it. Dust that breathes a few breaths and then returns to dust is hopeless, pointless, and worthless.

This is why the resurrection of Christ is the linchpin of the entire Christian faith. It reminds us that this dust which presently constitutes our bodies will one day be reconstituted into an incorruptible form. What God did for Jesus, He will do for us all. Our story is not the cicada story and Christians around the world rejoice in this fact as they declare the mystery of their faith:

"Christ has died, Christ has risen, and Christ will come again."

Wordless Prayer

Matthew records Jesus as instructing his disciples, "When you pray, do not go on babbling as the pagans do for they think that they will be heard because of their many words." As a guy who often doesn't like to talk, I take comfort in this verse. For years I felt guilt about not having an active, living prayer life. Somewhere along the line I came to understand prayer as "talking to God." The problem was that on many days I just didn't feel like talking. So I felt guilty that I could not obey Paul command to "pray without ceasing."

And then I grew up and learned that prayer isn't just talking; it's listening. And, more than that, it is just being. My brother Kyle and I like to hang out a lot, but we don't always talk. We just like being together. Surely God appreciates the same.

So I have been liberated from the need to talk. As St. Augustine wrote long ago, "The desire is your prayer; and if your desire is without ceasing, your prayer will also be without ceasing. The continuance of your desire is the continuance of your prayer." And as St. Therese of Lisieux has said, "For me, prayer is an upward leap of the heart, an untroubled glance towards heaven, a cry of gratitude and love which I utter from the depths of sorrow as well as from the heights of joy." Laughing, crying, playing, and resting... it is all prayer if done in the presence of God.

Hypnotism

About 10 days ago, my wife and I were on our first cruise. We didn't attend most of the nightly shows, but one of them that we did attend featured a "comic hypnotist." Inviting 12 participants from the audience who were willing to be hypnotized, he asked them all to concentrate on his words and put eight of them under his spell, dismissing the other four to return to their seats. He then proceeded to make these eight unfortunate people perform all manner of embarrassing activities such as performing a ballet, sniffing each other's shoes, and sobbing uncontrollably. While most of the audience roared with laughter, I sat there with a sick feeling in my stomach. This was my first time to see a live hypnotism and something about it seemed unnatural.

I am convinced that hypnotism is not a gimmick. It really works. I marveled at the absurd acts these eight people performed without even cracking a smile (that is what convinced me the most). But the sheer power that the hypnotist had over these individuals frightened me. If he had told them to go jump off of the edge of the ship, I believe they would have done it.

That evening I had a theological crisis. All sorts of questions emerged from the event: How is it possible for one human to be able to control the minds of other humans? What evil could be done if this were used by the wrong person? Why would God, who in my view seems to value human free will very highly, allow this utter destruction of free will? If these people acted like this and were seemingly unaware of their actions, could we all be hypnotized by God and not know it? (I know this sounds absurd at first, but consider: does God manipulate us to any degree? Surely if a hypnotist could manipulate someone, then God could at least change our desires or our inner dispositions at his every whim?)

And more questions emerge that relate to my earlier entries entitled "Virtue in a Pill." If a hypnotist could "cure" me of my sinful impulses such as the desire for other women or outbursts of anger or even my difficulty with listening to others, then why should I not go and have it done right away? In other words, can a hypnotist do what I've been asking the Holy Spirit to do for me only quicker and more effectively? Which leads to a deeper question: Assuming that the Holy Spirit could be more effective than a hypnotist if he wanted to, then why doesn't He do it? If God has the power to instantly sanctify me and I earnestly ask Him to do it but He does not, then when I do sin am I ultimately to blame or is God? A good hypnotist is able to help people out of depressions, addictions, etc and we do not blame him for doing so; in fact, we praise such a doctor for healing his patients. But if God could act as the Great Hypnotist but does not do so even to the patient who is keenly aware of his own sickness and pleads for help, then isn't this blameworthy? Wouldn't we shame a human who acted in such a way?

The other alternative, of course, is that although God can instantly sanctify a person, He may have very good reasons for choosing not to. We can only speculate at what such reasons might be, but my best theory is this: God actually prefers for us to struggle with sin than to be instantly alleviated from it. Perhaps within this struggle is a greater good -- the long, slow, painful development of character, for example. But does this mean that God actually prefers sin over holiness in certain circumstances?

Allow me to illustrate: Al is an alcoholic. Al asks God to instantly cure him by removing from him his desire for booze. God has the power to do this. I imagine that if Al went to a doctor and asked to have his desire for booze removed and the doctor had the ability to do it, the doctor would in fact do it or he would be in some way morally blameworthy. But God does not instantly cure Al and, in fact, watches him struggle with the addiction for years even to the point that his marriage is broken and he loses his job. Al attends AA meetings and does everything within his own power to break himself free, but he continues to relapse once or twice a month. His spirit is willing, but his flesh is weak. But the question is this: if Al does go out and get hammered one weekend, who is to blame? Is it Al or is it God? It seems to me that God is more to blame than Al.

Hypnotize me, O God, and do it now. Amen.

1 Samuel 16:14

1 Samuel 16:14 says this: "Now the Spirit of the Lord had departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the Lord tormented him."

I ask this simple question: How can YHWH have an evil spirit? I am forced to read this as a figure of speech meaning roughly "God allowed an evil spirit to torment Saul." But I do not believe that God is in the business of tormenting people, nor do I believe it is possible for something evil to emanate from Pure Light in whom there is no darkness at all.

According to the narrative, the evil spirit did serve a purpose -- the purpose of bringing David and Saul in contact. David played music to relieve Saul of the evil spirit from God. So this makes it seem as though God did indeed send the spirit, but for a larger purpose. Does God participate in evil so that good may result? Does the end justify the means for God? Can God do evil?

Has God sent the evil spirit which torments me?

Atonement and Biblical Criticism

A couple nights ago my wife and I finally watched a movie that has been on our "must see" list for a long time -- Atonement. Please don't read this entry if you plan to watch it and don't want the ending spoiled. First, I have to say that I loved the movie because it made me think. In short, it is a simple story about two young passionate lovers who are driven apart by an injustice perpetrated by an envious young sister who bears false testimony against Robbie, the young man, which results in his imprisonment for a crime he did not commit. As time goes on, the younger sister, Briony, realizes the evil she has done and tries to atone for her own sin by repudiating her previous testimony. The finale of the movie fast forwards to the end of Briony's life as an old woman in which she has become a famous novelist. On a television interview, she explains that the final novel of her career is an autobiographical tale about her own guilt at having split apart her sister and lover. The surprise at the end to viewers of the movie is that much of what they have just seen (a happy reunion of the lover and Briony's repentance) is a fiction (we watched the way that Briony told her story in her novel), but that what happened in reality is that both Robbie and his lover, Cecilia, died during the war years without ever having been reunited.

The agenda of the movie is clearly this: a beautiful lie is better than the ugly truth. This is not a new agenda for Hollywood. Another classic example is the Italian film Life is Beautiful, which happens to be another of my favorite movies. Rather than face the harsh reality of the real world, we create fictions that help us cope with reality. We willingly embrace "the matrix" rather than take the pill that enables us to see things as we are. Whereas The Matrix extols the virtues of truth-seeking, Atonement and Life is Beautiful disagree -- they extol the virtue of lying. It is lying with a cause, the very noble cause of human happiness.

It occurred to me as I watched the film that many liberal Biblical scholars such as Marcus Borg and John Shelby Spong (if you can call him a scholar) actually believe that the Jesus story is nothing more than a beautiful fiction -- a fiction that has caused a great deal of good in this world, but a fiction nonetheless. The real story goes like this: a young Jewish girl gets gang raped, has a bastard son, the boy grows up and teaches people how to love one another, instructs his followers to call God their "father," and then gets killed for his radical teachings about the beauty of the human heart. It is a beautiful story -- dare I say a compelling story. But the story found in the Bible -- the one about the virgin birth, the atonement, and the resurrection -- is a really nice fiction. It didn't actually happen that way.

I disagree with those who produced Atonement. I don't want a fiction even if it does make me feel good. I want the truth. If the man we call Jesus of Nazareth is dead and his bones are rotting in a grave somewhere, I want to know it -- even if it hurts me. And if Jesus' bones are in the grave and the story is just what the liberals say it is -- just a beautiful account of human love, then I say, "Forget it." Either God raised Jesus from the dead or He didn't. And if he didn't, then this whole mess we call Christianity is just that -- a mess, a farce, a fraud, and (as Nietzsche would say) actually an evil.

I do not believe that I am committed to a beautiful lie. I believe that is just so happens that truth, beauty, and goodness actually do meet in one person, in one grand reality. I believe that ultimate power actually was revealed in the cross and then in the empty tomb. I believe that the meek really will inherit the earth. That's not just some cute, poetic, sentimental ideal. Briony's fiction is an evil. Robbie and Cecilia are dead and she should have told the world that fact. If the gospel writers turn out to be a bunch of Brionys, I have no hope.

But I don't think they are.

The Great Question

As one who sometimes barely holds on to the Christian faith at times, I am haunted by the recent disasters in Burma and China. In my opinion, the single greatest argument for atheism is what philosophers of religion call "the problem of evil." Briefly stated, the argument goes like this: 1) God is all powerful, 2) God is good, 3) Evil exists. One of these three things, they argue, cannot be true for if God is all powerful and all good, then he could prevent evil from taking place. While I subscribe to a free will theodicy which accounts for much of the evils in this world (such as the Holocaust), I have less to say in the face of cyclones and earthquakes -- those events that many call "acts of God." While I have wrestled with this question for years (I took a course on it in college and another in seminary), the force of evil still hits me when I see pictures like this taken in China's Sichuan province by the BBC:


Who cannot cry out to God "Where are you!?!" in the face of such horrendous evil? I sit in silence and ask "why" and oftentimes do not come up with an answer.

And yet I cling to faith. It is all I have. I cling to the hope that God will somehow, someday make all things new and set these evils aright. I cling to the hope that this child buried under the rubble is either now or soon will be riotously celebrated in the kingdom of God to such an extent that her suffering on earth will seem small and trivial.

Of all the books I have read on the subject, David Bentley Hart's short piece of poetry-philosophy is the best. In his book The Doors of the Sea: Where Was God in the Tsunami? he writes the following:

"As for comfort, when we seek it, I can imagine none greater than the happy knowledge that when I see the death of a child, I do not see the face of God but the face of his enemy. Such faith might never seem credible to someone like Ivan Karamozov, or still the disquiet of his conscience, or give him peace in place of rebellion, but neither is it a faith that his arguments can defeat: for it is a faith that set us free from optimism long ago and taught us hope instead. Now we are able to rejoice that we are saved not through the immanent mechanisms of history and nature, but by grace; that God will not unite all of history's many strands in one great synthesis, but will judge much of history false and damnable; that he will not simply reveal the sublime logic of fallen nature, but will strike off the fetters in which creation languishes; and that, rather than showing us how the tears of a small girl suffering in the dark were necessary for the building of the Kingdom, he will instead raise her up and wipe all tears away from her eyes -- and there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying, nor any more pain, for the former things will have passed away, and he that sits upon the throne will say, 'Behold, I make all things new.'"

That is an answer! That is the hope I cling to.

Come, Lord Jesus, come.

A Remarkable Life

This semester I have been able to sit at the feet of a truly remarkable woman, Meesaeng Lee Choi, a Korean Christian who now teaches the History of the Holiness Movement here at Asbury. Dr. Choi testifies to having experienced entire sanctification in August of 1981 while kneeling beside her bed one evening after several hours of prayer. Through the death of her father at a young age and a very painful childhood, Dr. Choi eventually came to Christianity in college and experienced the "baptism of the Holy Spirit" a few years later. To my knowledge, she is the one person I have come across who will look me in the eye and say, "I have been entirely sanctified."

This fascinates me. Why is it that an experience so central to the fabric of the historic American holiness movement of the 19th century is so rare? Why does this Korean woman alone testify to having had the experience of full salvation, inner cleansing, and Christian perfection? I must admit that the culture gap between Dr. Choi and myself is huge. Many things she says and testifies to do not fit well with my Western, modernistic framework. And yet, even from a Western scientific perspective, I must admit her testimony as evidence and weigh it carefully. Here are some of the more radical claims that she makes:

1) She claims to only sleep about 4-5 hours/night because she is so excited to spend time in prayer. This was not the case before her 1981 experience.

2) She has witnessed multiple miraculous healings and believes that the American church has forgotten the fact that divine physical healing was the primary method for spreading the gospel during the first three centuries of the church. She regularly participated in meetings in Korea on Friday nights which would last for 6-7 hours each -- a room filled with loud prayer and miraculous healings of those with even terminal diseases. She attributes the radical growth of the church in Korea to this fact.

3) She claims that most miraculous healings take place after 3-7 days of communal fasting.

4) When I asked her why the Korean church seems so vibrant and the American church seems so apathetic, she answered with one word: prayer. Korean Christians pray like mad (usually in large groups for 2-3 hours early each morning before breakfast).

5) Dr. Choi claims to be almost insanely happy. She admits that she is often troubled in her spirit and that she still suffers a great deal (from spiritual forces), but she radiates with a joy and vibrancy I have not seen before. For Dr. Choi, holiness and happiness are the same. And she is perfectly happy.

6) She likes to say that "death is the final healing." She does not fear death in the least.

Sitting at the feet of this woman for the past 12 weeks has challenged me in many ways. I have realized that my own view of Christianity is far too small. God is doing things in cultures that I barely even understand. My modernist, Western culture predisposes me to look askance at the supernatural. And yet I cannot deny the testimony of this woman any more than I can deny the testimonies of hundreds of thousands of Christians in Asia, Africa, and South America. In my search for Truth (aka God), I must listen to her voice.

Love

Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds;
O no, it is an ever fixed mark
That looks on tempers and is never shaken;
... Love's not time's fool, though rosy cheeks and lips
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

- William Shakespeare, Sonnet CXVI

Ali Hussein

This two-year old boy named Ali was killed in an explosion in Iraq on April 29th. I ask you to look into his face for at least 30 seconds and then ask: "Does any principle, no matter how lofty, justify this?"

I'm pissed right now at my own nation which began this conflict and at my own church which has largely supported it. The church kept silent as our country marched to war and, in fact, condoned this brutality by blindly supporting a so-called "Christian" presidential administration.

I feel the need to allow some vitriolic sarcasm to escape my lips. I pray the prayer of Mark Twain: "O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale form of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolate land in rags and hunger and thirst."

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.