Urbana Memories

Urbana09

25 years ago I attended Urbana 84, Intervarsity’s 14th student missions convention.  18,144 delegates descended on the University of Illinois in the last days of December to commit ourselves to global missions.

I remember my first taste of Midwestern cold.  I recall being tired a lot since the schedule kept us busy 18 hours a day.  Mostly I remember the vibrant preaching of Eric Alexander.

Here’s the coda from Alexander’s sermon on Ephesians 2:

I was in Colorado Springs earlier this year, and the hotel I was staying in was being rebuilt. There was a lot of dust around and some inconvenience about not being able to go through some of the corridors. But they had a notice up which met me again and again as I was going through the hotel. It said this: “Please be patient with us. We are under reconstruction.” As I was walking along the corridor the first morning, I thought, “Blessed be God. So am I.” We are under reconstruction. The living God is building us into a new society and into a new temple for his glory. We need to say to one another, “Please be patient. I am under reconstruction.” God is building us into a temple, a dwelling place, a habitation for himself and for his glory. And one day, by his grace (for he is supervising the work himself), he will complete it, and we shall be truly a habitation for God. This is what God is doing in the world today. He is creating a new society, and we, who have been resurrected and reconciled, are part of it for the glory and praise of his great name. Amen.

Two years later I went overseas on a summer mission trip to the Philippines.  Later I went into parish ministry.  All these years later God is still remodeling me in ways I never expected.  Blessed be God.

Education In the Arts

Artist David Arzouman values education in the arts alongside math and science:

So where is the education model that not only emphasizes balance, but also explores the parallels and connections across disciplines?

One example is the quadrivium – arithmetic, geometry, music, astronomy – a model that reaches back to Pythagoras. Consider its strengths. Arithmetic explains the relations between numbers. Geometry explains numbers in space; music, numbers in time; and astronomy, numbers in space and time. It was a vision of correspondences conducive to analogic thinking.

Our wiser cultural ancestors considered geometry more than an engineering tool and music more than mere entertainment. They were key, parallel studies, manifestations of numbers, which were therefore seen as embodying both quantity and quality, a clue to the complementary unity of science and art.

I studied electrical engineering at the University of Nevada.  I also enrolled in the university’s symphonic choir for a semester to sing Handel’s Messiah.  The students I sat with in the choir were so different from the ones I studied with in physics and calculus courses.  The experience enriched me and helped balance the heavy emphasis on math and science in an engineering curriculum.

A friend who majored in the classics once told me the ancient Greeks, who invented the Quadrivium, had all the knowledge they needed to start the Industrial Revolution, but they didn’t.  They had other aspirations.  When they are done well, arts like music help nurture those aspirations — peace, beauty and harmony.

Jesus the Good Muslim

Leo D. Lefebure recounts a time of Christian–Muslim dialogue at Georgetown University:

The conversation reinforced my sense that the Jewish character of Jesus and his first followers is one of the most important elements in the relation between Christianity and Islam. Muslims can readily accept the portrait of Jesus as a Jewish prophet who proclaimed the reign of God, who challenged the religious and governmental authorities of his time, who healed people and taught radical obedience to God.

A lot of Christians sympathize with this portrait of Jesus too.

A few years ago Muqtedar Khan, then a professor at Adrian College, spoke at our church during a Lenten series on Islam.  The one thing I remember him saying was this:  “To me, Jesus was just a good Muslim.”

What You Can Learn From the Girl Scouts

Girl Scouts of the USA has adopted changes in recent years to regain vitality.  According to this article in the Toledo Blade, they have

1.  Simplified their organization, going from 312 councils to 112.

2.  Focused on relevant issues, from computers to wind power.

3.  Changed the dress code.  White shirts and khakis are now acceptable.

4.  Initiated ‘girl-led’ programming.

Overwhelmingly, Ms. Tisdale said, the response was that girls want to be part of something girl-led. They want to meet new people. They want to be part of the action. They don’t want to listen to an adult talk, talk, talk, so that they feel like they are in a classroom.

In this new girl-led model, members decide what projects to pursue and how to accomplish goals, Ms. Tisdale said.

In the process, they learn something about themselves and what they care about, they connect to other girls who might share similar interests, and they figure out what action to take to make their neighborhood or their community better, she said.

“That is the power of this new model and that’s what is at the heart of it.”

It’s too early to tell if this new initiative will reverse the membership decline in the Girl Scouts.  Even so, organizations can learn from them:  simplicity, relevance and participation are critical things.

CROP Walk 2009

crop walk

The CROP walk began and ended at our church Sunday.  My wife chaired the event, which raises thousands of dollars to fight poverty.  I was supposed to co-chair, but I ended up being more like the little table next to the chair that the chair could put things on if needed.  (Last year’s CROP walk post is here.)

Each year walkers write their names with colored markers on large, white bed sheets.  It was touching yesterday to watch them scanning sheets from previous years looking for their names.  For many, the annual walk is a family ritual.

Sermon on Blind Bartimaeus

Your Faith Has Made You Well (Mark 10:46-52)

Blind Bartimaeus was sitting by the side of the road. He was there each day as the traffic went by. Since he couldn’t see anything, his other senses were heightened.

He heard the slap of leather sandals on the pavement. He smelled the livestock and touched the sides of the animals as they passed by. He felt the smooth coins people tossed on his gray cloak, which stretched out on the ground.

Bartimaeus was a beggar. Being blind, there was no other way to support himself. Begging was an accepted vocation then. Jericho was a wealthy city. There was money to give away. Bartimaeus lived—literally—by the generosity of others.

We can benefit from generosity ourselves. You’re in a hospital waiting room, and someone you’ve never met before offers you encouragement and says, “I’ll keep you in my prayers.” Doesn’t it make you feel good?

Or you’re standing in the doorway at K-mart, ringing the Salvation Army bell, and someone you know who has no money to spare drops in a ten dollar bill and wishes you a Merry Christmas. This kind of generosity makes the world work. It’s something to keep in mind as the church engages in its stewardship campaign.

Johann Sebastian Bach, the great composer, was poor as a young man. He was orphaned by the age of ten and had to make his way in the world alone.

One day, when Bach was a teenager, he was walking to a city where he would study music. He stopped at an inn, thinking he’d get something to eat, but he realized it was too pricey for him. He didn’t have enough money. So he sat down on the side of the street to rest.

Out of a window above, someone tossed two fish heads. They landed with a thunk next to Bach on the pavement. He was hungry enough to eat anything, so he picked one of them up and brushed it off. Inside the fish head he found a ducat, which was a gold coin. There was one in the other fish head too.

Now Bach had two gold ducats, or about half a year’s salary. Someone was looking out for him. He was able to buy dinner, get a room for the night, and continue his journey the next day.

No one threw fish heads at Bartimaeus. Actually, he probably made a decent living. He was poor, not destitute. And like Bach, the generosity of strangers supported him.

+++++

One day Bartimaeus heard the commotion of a crowd coming by him. You’d have to be in a crowd yourself and close your eyes to get a sense of what it must have been like for him. What is it? What’s going on? He didn’t know.

Then he heard a couple of people say the name… Yeshua… Yeshua. Jesus. The teacher is here… the healer. That was all Bartimaeus needed to know. He needed to act quickly. This is his once in a lifetime opportunity. This is his chance.

So Bartimaeus cries out… literally he screams. “Jesus… have mercy on me!!!!” Over and over he says it… people are trying to shush him, but he says it all the more loudly, “Have mercy on me.”

What he says in the Greek New Testament is eleeson me. Again and again that word, eleeson. If it sounds familiar to you, it’s because it’s still found in the liturgy today. Kyrie eleison… Lord have mercy.

At this point, Jesus does two things: he stands still… and he says in a loud voice, ‘Call him over here.’ He stays in one spot, and he allows Bartimaeus to find him by the sound of his voice.

Bartimaeus tosses off his cloak. He stumbles over to Jesus. Jesus places a hand on his shoulder and asks, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’

What do you want me to do for you? It’s the question God asks of us all. Our answers say a lot about what our life is like right now – what our struggles and heartaches are.

Bartimaeus asks something simple. ‘Lord, I want to see.’ I want to be able to see the sky and the trees. I want to see the children playing. I want to see the faces of people speaking to me. I want to see again.

Jesus responds, ‘Your faith has made you well.’ Suddenly Bartimaeus can see. He doesn’t go home and tell his family. He goes on with Jesus, like a kitten following the source of milk.

I love what Jesus says… Your faith has made you well. He doesn’t say, ‘I have made you well.’ He attributes the change to Bartimaeus himself, to his own faith. His faith shouted out to Jesus. His faith threw aside the cloak and let all the coins on it go flying. His faith stumbled over to Jesus. His faith made all the difference.

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I’d like to show you a scene from the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy is being held prisoner by the Wicked Witch in her castle. Her dog Toto has escaped and goes to warn the Lion, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. This happens next:

[show scene, 1:19:15 to 1:21:32]

I love this scene. The Tin Man thinks he has no heart, but he’s crying at the thought of Dorothy in danger. The Lion thinks he has no courage, but he’s saying ‘Let me at ‘em… I’ll tear ‘em apart.’ He’s ready to fight. The Scarecrow thinks he has no brain, but he’s making a plan to save Dorothy.

Do you see it? Each of them has the very thing they claim not to have—a heart, courage, a brain. They already have these things… they just don’t know it yet.

In a similar way, Bartimaeus didn’t realize what he had. He was used to being the one in need, the one asking, the one defined by what he did not have… his sight. He didn’t even realize what a powerful resource he had… his faith.

The presence of Jesus drew the faith out of him, but it was there all along, hidden, latent, waiting to come out. Your faith has made you well.

Now I don’t think faith is a blank check that will get us anything we want. But it is a powerful resource in life—like heart, courage or brains. Faith can lie hidden in us, waiting for the right day and time to come out.

Do you think you have no faith? Then think again. You have more than you know, more than enough. Whatever crisis you are facing, whatever castle is holding you captive, whatever heartache is plaguing you—know that you have the faith it takes to face it, endure and overcome.

When you don’t expect it, the presence of Jesus will come, draw your faith out of hiding and bring you wholeness you have not known before. Then you too will hear those words, ‘Your faith—your faith—has made you well.’

When Atheists Go to Church

Understandably, atheist Richard Dawkins seldom attends church:

Though he’s not the sentimental type, Dawkins admits to “an English nostalgia for village life, including church. I never go, find it excruciatingly boring, but still, I have some nostalgia for evensong on a summer evening.”

His attitude probably mirrors how a lot of people feel about church.  It’s ‘excruciatingly boring,’ but there remains a ‘nostalgia’ to the experience — like memories of singing Silent Night on candlelight Christmas Eve services.

So if worship is boring, does this point to a problem in the worship or in the worshipper?

Our Faith In Science

Belief in global warming is declining in America:

Just 57 percent think there is solid evidence the world is getting warmer, down 20 points in just three years, a new poll says. And the share of people who believe pollution caused by humans is causing temperatures to rise has also taken a dip.

People in the Midwest and the Mountain West are more skeptical than those in the Northeast or on the West Coast.

Science is a tentative, self-correcting endeavor.  Each generation confirms, modifies or overturns the settled science of the prior generation.  In science, time tells the truth. 

The challenge of climate science is that it asks for our faith now — belief in the future it envisions — before there is time to verify its findings.

Go to Jail, Go Directly to Jail

lenawee county jail

I visited the county jail twice this week.  They don’t work hard to make it a pretty building — gray concrete walls and dark green doors that close behind you with a heavy clunk.  Inmates wear orange scrubs and orange Crocs.

I’ve grown accustomed to visiting people in all sorts of locations — from critical care units to parking lots.  The jail takes the prize as the most intimidating place.  It took practice to learn the routine:  wear your badge, stand so the camera can see you, listen for the locking mechanism to turn.

Our jail grants clergy access that families don’t receive.  My visits can happen face to face, four days a week; families see their loved ones on Saturdays, and then only via closed circuit TV.  I’ve wondered why we  get this privilege — same as a probation officer — and can only conclude it’s because society sees clergy as harmless.  We’re not a threat.  Hopefully we are a healthy influence too.

The young men I’ve seen regret the things they did.  I sit in a plastic chair, listen to their stories and affirm God’s presence and forgiveness.  I pray for them.  I get them Bibles too.  The main enemy they face in jail is boredom.  I encourage patience — once the mechanism of the law gets hold of you, it takes a long time to work your way free again.

I don’t view these visits along the lines of ‘I was in prison and you came to see me.’  I’ve never gotten the whole mystical-presence-of-Christ-in-the-poor thing.  I just see people in jail as more people I can visit, only these happen to live in a strange, concrete house… that needs a few flowers.

Why Do We Believe What We Believe?

Law professor Ann Althouse comments on a CNN segment analyzing the appeal of right wing talk radio, but her thoughts go beyond the matter and reflect on human motivations for all beliefs:

Is it that CNN wants to psychoanalyze the interest in right-wing radio? Although I think it is absurd to characterize conservatism as a disease that needs treatment, I am strongly drawn to analyzing why people believe what they do and why they find satisfaction in some ideas and not others. I don’t think there is anything more compelling than that, and I’ve come to realize lately how much this orientation of mine underlies my blogging and my real-world relationships…

In a conference or a workshop or faculty meeting, when people talk, I never listen only to the ideas they  are expressing. I think about the psychology revealed by their choice of words, how long and intensely they speak, their facial contortions and tics, and the look in their eyes… I don’t really know what their inner life is, and I realize they may have problems or illnesses or all sorts of secret things that are manifested as they speak, but I am always thinking about who they really are.

Who they really are.  I too am intrigued by why people believe what they believe.  What makes one person conservative and another progressive?  What is the lure of these life orientations?  What makes one person religious and another irreligious?  Is it experience, temperament, heredity?  Religion doesn’t reduce to psychology or biology, but they are ingredients.

Whatever the answers to these questions, Ann is on the right path:  look beneath the surface of words and actions to the inner life that gives rise to them.

Natalie?!

I’m stunned Natalie is leaving Dancing With the Stars.  Her face said she is too.  What a shock.  And Louie is staying?  Amazing.  Louie stands still while Chelsie dances around him.  He must have a lot of fans. 

The Michael Jackson tribute was excellent.  As was Norah Jones. 

But Natalie?!  The Olympian magic fizzles.  Sniff…

Cartoon God

Famed cartoonist R. Crumb has produced an illustrated version of the book of Genesis.  He spent four years on the project.

But the biggest challenge was to draw a picture of God:

What was it like trying to draw God? “I ended up with the old stereotypical Charlton Heston kind of God, long beard, very masculine,” Crumb explained. “I used a lot of white-out, a lot of corrections when I tried to draw God.”

And the end result of his project? I’ve come out exhausted,” Crumb says. “I may never draw again.”

At our last discussion group on The Shack, we talked about how our images of God change through life.  Like Crumb, we use white-out and make corrections to our mental picture of God.

If you drew a picture of God today, what would it look like?  Mine would be a tree.  No law says the image must be human, not when so often in the Psalms God is a rock.

i txt ther4 i am

I sent my very first text message, “I love you,”  to the senior pastor at our church.  He was amused.  I had planned to send it to my wife but got things mixed up in the list of contacts.

My skill at texting has improved since then. I use text messages freely now. They’re more than simply passing notes in class, although they are that too. Texts are another way of sending a message to someone, easier than an e-mail and less intrusive than a phone call. There are times when a text suits the need perfectly.  I never text while driving or while talking to someone — the one is dangerous, and the other is rude.

Many people my age are ambivalent about texting — it’s one more thing to learn how to do.  They scoff at it or complain at how spelling habits have declined. For me, I like to text because it makes me feel younger. Suddenly I’m 23, not 46.

I understand too why texting has developed its unique way of spelling. The word you takes eight key strokes on a number pad, but the abbreviation u only takes two strokes. Whether spelling has changed now with full QWERTY keyboard phones, I don’t know.

At the football game Friday night, I watched a boy send a half dozen texts within ten minutes, using his full keyboard phone.  I’m tempted get one myself; they tend to be larger, though, and my little Sanyo slips so easily in my pocket.  So I’ll continue to text the old fashioned way.

Theologically speaking, I not only send texts, I am a text — ‘known and read by everybody,’ says St. Paul. I hope the text others read in me says ‘god luvs u.’

In Praise of Pessimism

We need not always be cheerful.  So says Lisa Schiffren:

Personally, I find relentless cheeriness in the face of the more serious aspects of reality kind of offensive. Positive energy is nice, of course, as are big smiles. But rational assessments of the situation — whatever situation, be it personal, political, health, or economic — will not always lead to smiles and cheers. And, indeed, serious problems are more often solved when people start acting as if they are facing a crisis than an exciting challenge — in my humble opinion, as a pessimist.

Her comments remind me of the Book of Psalms, which allows generous space for the practice of lament as well as praise.  There is a place in life for sadness, fear and grief — this is why nature gives us these emotions.

Our local Hospice offers a support group for the bereaved called Growing Through Grief — which alliterates nicely but sounds too positive for my tastes.  For the sake of truth in advertising, they should call the group Grief Sucks.  The grieving would understand.

Only after a lament can you taste the sweetness of rediscovered life.  ‘Weeping may endure for the night, but joy cometh in the morning.’

Prayer, not Proof

In a review of Karen Armstrong’s The Case for God, Jack Miles discusses apophatic (or negative) theology:

The earliest Christian theology was apophatic. Apophatic theology — the theology of the original, Greek-speaking Christian church — was “naysaying” theology, a kind of religious language whose difficult task it was to acknowledge in human language the very inadequacy of human language…

In an ambitious work clear in outline and rich in detail, Armstrong writes the history of how apophatic theology was forgotten in the late Middle Ages; how rational and then quasi-scientific Newtonian theology rose to replace it in early modernity; how, when others were recognizing this as a mistake, fundamentalists tightened their embrace of it; and how, in the wake of the passing of modernity and the failure of both its theism and its atheism, postmodern theology may point toward the recovery of what was lost.

A god whose existence you can prove is a god to whom you cannot pray, postmodern theology argues, and prayer — not proof — is where religion rises or falls. Armstrong’s very considerable service is to show how this novel idea is a very old idea newly recovered.

I think God’s existence is plausible, not provable, and I agree that prayer is the heartbeat of religion.  (At the link above, there is a striking picture of a hand reaching up to the cross.)

Preaching and the Voice of Eva Cassidy

Theo Boehm praises singer Eva Cassidy. She was

a transformative artist, who could take some fairly standard songs, and give them her own intense, beautiful, technically wonderful, personal take.

Yes… transformative artist.  I discovered her lovely voice watching Michelle Kwan perform to Fields of Gold at the Olympics.

Her version of Fields of Gold is here:

Singing and preaching are similar — they’re both arts that involve the voice.  Good preaching takes ‘fairly standard’ texts from scripture and brings to them an ‘intense, beautiful, technically wonderful, personal take.’

I’m not there yet, not even close, but this is something to aspire to.  The better preachers are also transformative artists.

9 Ways to Help People With Cancer

A good post at Beliefnet on how to help people with cancer:

1. Don’t be afraid of honesty.
2. Offer to hug us.
3. Organize a fun get-together.
4. Tell success stories.
5. Skip the psychobabble.
6. Ask and listen.
7. ‘Let me bring it up.’
8. Offer yourself.
9. Don’t try to fix it.

These come from cancer survivors themselves. More at the link above.

And check out the author, Lori Hope.