Why I love history...

I started reading a book just a few minutes ago - a book about the Battle of Little Big Horn, written from the perspective of the Lakota people.  In the introduction to the book, author Joseph Marshall offers up the following:

"Where are you from?

We all have heard that question more than we probably realize.  More often than not we respond with the name of the place where we were raised or where we were born or raised. That is, of course, the most obvious and seemingly logical answer.

Yet there is one place where we are all from, no matter our race or ethnicity or social status.

We are all from the past.

Who and what we are is shaped not only by the blood of our parents, grandparents, and ancestors, but also by their values, traditions, customs, and attitudes - and by the events they witnessed and experienced.  How we view the world today, as well as our individual, racial, and societal circumstances, depends on what happened to our ancestors, what they did or did not do, and on what they suffered or perpetrated.  Therefore, in order to understand ourselves, we must endeavor to understand who and what our ancestors were.  We must understand our past." (emphasis added)

That is why I love to read history so much.  I love the stories, not just of people who may have been my own ancestors, but of the ancestors of the people around me.  It's why I enjoy sitting down with the elder statesmen and women of the church and listening to them tell their stories.  Who they were has shaped what I am and what I become.  And of course, that truth extends to the future as well - who I am will shape what my children become; and my grandchildren; and my great-grandchildren; and on and on it goes.

Return of an Old "Friend"

I feel kind of like the hero in some bad spy movie sequel who, upon meeting the bad guy, says: "So, we meet again."  It seems like my old nemesis is trying to rear its head yet again.  I have had some issues with minor depression in the past and have been, for the most part, pretty good at fighting off the problem when it tries to come.

But for some reason it's harder this week than the last.  It feels like a battle that I can never fully win - like depression will always be with me.  Almost as if Jesus looked at me and, instead of saying, "The poor you will always have with you," has said instead, "The depression you will always have with you."  And I've got to say that I am not pleased by that.  To be fully open, I hate it.  I want to be "victorious" over it.  I don't want to continue to hear well-meaning, pious folks ask me if I have prayed about it or if there's any sin that's causing my issues.  I don't want to continue to have to spend every waking hour on the watch for that unknown trigger that will start the downward spiral, hoping that I can catch it in time.  Most of all, though, I don't want my issues with depression to be the reason that I never get a chance to pastor a church.

I know that I am God's beloved...at least intellectually.  Now if I could only learn to accept it in my heart.  I cling to the hope that, like my hero Henri Nouwen, I can find a way out of this depression and through it to a complete ministry to others.

Where's the Outcry?

Over the course of the last two weeks, there have been two major natural disasters in our world.  In Myanmar, as many as 125,000 people were killed and millions more left homeless by a cyclone.  In China, there was an earthquake that is being said to have claimed as many as 50,000 lives.  That's 175,000 lives that may have been lost in the last two weeks...just in natural disasters.

When I read about these two things - especially the cyclone - I couldn't help but think back to when Hurricane Katrina hit the gulf coast of the US in 2005.  And as I thought about it, one thing stood out to me - where is the outcry and the outpouring of support for the victims in Myanmar and China?  To be sure, relief agencies such as the Red Cross are doing their part for the cyclone and earthquake victims.  However, when Katrina hit, there was a massive outpouring of support for the city of New Orleans and other hard hit areas.  Some churches were able to raise millions of dollars to offer help...and this for a disaster in which less than 2,000 people lost their lives.

Now, I don't intend to minimize the deaths of 2,000 people.  Katrina was a national tragedy and the outpouring of support was admirable and amazing.  However, I can't help but question the church in particular when we can raise millions of dollars for our own cities and our own people but not others.  Where are the fundraisers being run for Myanmar in cities across the country?  Where are the churches sacrificing to raise millions of dollars to help earthquake victims in China?  Where are the people organizing trips to dig and to feed and to provide other support?

I think it is fair to say that all of the money that could - and arguably should - be going from our churches to Myanmar and China is staying right in the pockets of the people who sit in the pews.  After all, Myanmar and China are so far away - and there's nothing we can do anyway - that's what the Red Cross is for...

There are all kinds of excuses, and all of them are crap.  Period.  I simply refuse to believe that the same people who, three years ago, gave selflessly and sacrificially to Katrina Victims suddenly don't have the resources to sacrifice for an international tragedy that, at least in terms of lives lost, could end up being more than 500 times worse than Katrina.  We Americans are self-centered and bigoted and prejudiced...if we deign to give at all, it is only for our own kind.

I guess it suffices to say that this is one of those times that I am ashamed to be a part of the church in America.

jB

A Statement of Vision

Recently, I began planning a 24-7 prayer vigil for my local church that would take place over the course of one week.  God gave me the idea and the passion for it while I was reading Red Moon Rising by Pete Greig, which tells the story of the 24-7 prayer movement that is taking England - and the world - by storm.

It is a very intimidating thing to try and convince people to sign up to pray for one hour at, say, 3:00 in the morning.  It becomes all the more intimidating when one realizes that there are over 160 of these one hour slots to fill; and a prayer room to design, decorate, and consecrate; and prayer requests to gather; and lessons to teach; and on & on & on.

After I committed to doing this thing, as is so often the case, I began to have doubts:

"What if no one signs up?  What if the church hates the whole idea or won't get behind it?  What if it fails?  What if?  What if?  What if?"

And as I was praying about and pondering these doubts, God seemed to tell me two things.  First, success or failure is not mine to determine.  Mine is only to follow wherever it is that God is leading me.  The second message, though, was very profound to me and I have since decided that I am going to make it the motto of my life and ministry.  I may not always live up to it, but I know that it is the best description of where I want to be with God...

"I would rather fail at greatness than succeed at mediocrity."

I was robbed.

So I had to go up to our house in Merrillville to pick up some documents that Melissa and I needed.  Well, I got to the house and, surprise!, our house had been broken into.  To be more accurate, the best guess is that when I arrived the house was in the process of being robbed at that very moment, since we found some of the missing stuff sitting on the floor of the garage.  I bring this up to mention two things.

First, it is exactly like they show on TV and in the movies when someone's place gets "ransacked" - there is a moment of stunned disbelief.  That's what happened.  I opened the door and saw the TV, receiver, CD player and DVD player were all not where they were supposed to be, but it took me about ten seconds to realize what that meant...at which point I immediately got out of the house and called the police.

Second, I was somewhat surprised by my own reaction to the whole thing.  Of course, there was an initial burst of anger...and some fear (I own a high-powered air rifle and carried it around with me while I cleaned up the mess).  But those things quickly gave way to a sense of how good God is.  Had I not made a spontaneous decision to go get those documents tonight, our house might have been stripped clean.  Had I arrived any sooner, I might have actually caught the robbers in the act and been in physical danger.  Instead, I pull into the driveway and scare off whoever it was before they could get anything but the DVD player, receiver, and CD player - leaving behind all of Melissa's jewelry, all our important documents that were in our firesafe, and our two irreplaceable works of art.

God is definitely good.  And while I am certainly not glad that our house was broken into, I am pleased that God is beginning to show me what it means to live with a constant sense of joy and contentment.

jB

The War Inside

This clip comes from the movie The Fountainhead, with a screenplay written by Ayn Rand.  I consider the speech shown in the clip to be one of the greatest speeches I have ever heard.  It is also indicative of the constant struggle going on inside of me.

You see, I desire to be like Howard Roark, the man in the clip - I desire to defend man's right to live for his own sake.  I want to be a creator and not a parasite.  I look at the man Howard Roark - both in the words of this speech and in the book of the same title - and see an ideal to which I should strive...

But at the same time, Howard Roark is incompatible with my faith, with my desire to become like Christ.  In many respects, Christ is the exact antithesis of Howard Roark - a man who lives not for his own sake at all, but exclusively for the sake of others.  And this is the ideal to which I am called..

So one can see how there is a tension within me between these two noble ideals.  I say both are noble because I don't see this as an "old man" vs. "new man" debate or as Roark being exclusively bad.  There are parts of Roark's speech that are perfectly at home within my faith.  Christians should, for example, resist the attempts of any "collective" to destroy individuals.  One could argue that the call upon a Christian is to surrender to the collective that is the church...but this is not true.  Rather, the call for the Christian is to surrender to that which is Jesus Christ.

Further, who can hear these words and not want to be a creator and not a parasite:

"The creator stands on his own judgment; the parasite follows the opinions of others.  The creator thinks; the parasite copies.  The creator produces; the parasite loots.  The creator's concern is the conquest of nature; the parasite's concern is the conquest of men."

In short, I think that there is much in the speech of and the character that is Howard Roark that is admirable and should be striven toward.  However, Roark is not Christ.  Christ is the ultimate fulfillment of what Roark is describing, though.  For in Christ, we see a man who, though he appears to live exclusively for others, does so not out of a sense of duty or because someone has forced him.  Rather, Christ lives for the sake of others because it is precisely in him to do so.  It is the "work" of Christ.  It is Christ's identity.  It is the life of a man who, although he does not recognize the "right" of anyone to make claims on  him, chooses freely to allow and fulfill the claims of others.

I want to be like Howard Roark.  I also want to be like Jesus the Christ.  A little tension between the two may not be such a bad thing.

jB

Squashing Passion?

As I mentioned in my last post, I have been increasingly drawn to the concept of 24-7 prayer.  Perhaps even to the extent of exploring it as an avenue for future ministry.

Well, about a week ago, I contacted someone in the upper echelons of my local denominational organization about arranging a prayer vigil for the entire duration of our annual meeting.  I didn't know what was going to happen, but I contacted this person anyway.

I got a response back today that engendered two entirely different responses in rapid fire succession.  The essence of the response was that the prayer focus for our annual meeting was already being taken care of by this person and someone else.

My first reaction was to be somewhat upset.  After all, it was a terse response that seemed to say thanks but no thanks.  I'll confess that, in the back of my head, I thought, "Way to go, man.  Way to squash the passion I had for this.  Way to not let me get involved."

About ten seconds after that thought, I reconsidered the original response.  The person didn't tell me that I couldn't be involved or even that I shouldn't be involved.  Rather, all he said was that he was already working on it.  I was allowing my preconceived ideas to determine my response, which was childish and petulant ("If they don't want me to lead it, then fine...I'll take my toys and go home.).

Therein lies, I believe, the biggest lesson God has yet to teach me - and the one that I seem to be resisting the hardest.  I am a distinctly type A personality.  I like things to be done my way, and I like to be in control.  These desires have a disturbing tendency to overflow into my life as a minister, revealing themselves as an approach to ministerial involvement that says that, if I am not in charge, I will not participate.  I know, what a horrible attitude!

God wants me to be open to doing his work regardless of whether I am the man making the plans or the man cleaning the toilets at the end of the day.  Hopefully I can begin to take this lesson seriously and allow it to change the way I think and the way I operate.  I think I'll start by e-mailing the guy again about the prayer stuff and just saying, "Look, I just want to be involved in whatever way possible."

God doesn't squash passion - we do.

jB