What story are you telling? from Rhetorik Creative on Vimeo.

A Million Miles in a Thousand Years was one of the most significant books I’ve read in the last few years. Do yourself a favor and read it.

A Million Miles in a Thousand Years

Ian Hamilton discusses “experimental” (or “experiential”) Calvinism:

“[Calvinism] is not first and foremost a theological system; it is more fundamentally a “religious attitude”, an attitude that gives inevitable birth to a particular, precise, but gloriously God-centred and heart-engaging system of theology.”

“Before sovereign grace is a truth to defend, it is a captivating truth to glory in.”

The whole article is well worth reading. Especially worth noting is Hamilton’s conclusion about the marks of an experimental Calvinist.

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I just finished taking about a week off from Facebook and Twitter. I chose to do this after reading an excellent article in the current edition of RELEVANT (available on newsstands everywhere) (the article is not online yet). Asking the question, “Is Facebook Killing Your Soul?”, author and pastor Shane Hipps explored the impact social media can have on our spiritual lives and our mental intelligence.

I decided to take a break from social media to better observe what was happening to me. Here’s what I found (and why I’m back on Facebook and Twitter this morning):

• Just like Shane Hipps predicted, I discovered a disturbing level of narcissism being encouraged and increased through Twitter and Facebook. Subtly, these services made me think that what I ate for breakfast was worth sharing with the world. If you’ve used Twitter long, you are probably familiar with a constant thought in the back of your mind: “I should tweet this!” Well, no, probably not. We don’t all need to know that.

• I realized that frequently my urge to check Facebook and Twitter were based in a quest for novelty. I was wanting something new, something interesting. This is wasteful, shortsighted, and tending towards shallow thinking. Rather than seeking something new, my goal should be digging deeper into worthwhile thoughts, whether through a book or a more lengthly article on Instapaper. Not always seeking the new.

• In reevaluating my use of these services, I am realizing that Facebook is not something worth giving up. It provides messaging and sharing functionality that is worthwhile in today’s world. However, my use of it needs to be tempered by thoughtfully realizing when the best use of my time is away from Facebook.

• Twitter is a harder one to justify staying on. I would welcome any input you might have for me as I continue thinking about this. I see Twitter as an excellent way to consume information, similar to Google Reader or Instapaper’s Browse page. But in terms of “write” usage, I don’t know. I don’t have the privacy concerns most have—but I am concerned that Twitter’s 140-character format and always available functionality might continue to be harmful to my soul and mind.

Any thoughts?

I love airports, because they smack of adventure and excitement and make me feel like my life is cooler than I feel it normally is. I enjoy watching all of the people and wondering what they’re doing and imagining what kind of life they are living in. I wonder what other people think when they look at me. What kind of story is my life telling? What is the story I’m living in? Who is the author?

But I digress. I was standing in line at a sandwich shop, waiting with other wearied travelers for a regrettably spongy-tasting, overpriced turkey club. I was fascinated by the man in front of me. Sporting a close-cropped beard with classy, slightly ruffled hair and stylish Oakley sunglasses perched on his head. He wore a blue longsleeve shirt that was obviously worn but somehow didn’t look ragged. His jeans looked both comfortable and fashionable. He had an OD green nylon daypack slung over both shoulders, the kind you might find at a military surplus store, with a grey hoodie strapped to the back. He work these great looking, brown leather shoes that seemed like a mix between sneaker and light hiker. I made a mental note to look those shoes up, since I am looking for a new pair of casual shoes. The whole ensemble made him look like he was in the middle of a great adventure, traveling light, living life to the limit. He seemed to be the kind of guy who had all kinds of great stories involving high jinx with good friends in far-off locales like Argentina and central Aisa.

Sitting next to me at the gate was an older man with a goatee and a faded ballcap from some sportsman’s associations. He wore Keen river sandals and well-worn shorts with a neat looking polo. His luggage consisted of a backpack that looked experienced and decidedly non-brandname with a Pelican laptop case. I noticed that the Pelican case was quite dusty. His gear looked grizzled and used and he looked experienced and world-wise. He reminded me of this man I worked with in Henry County, GA, a well-traveled public safety commissioner who regaled us with stories of working in Iraq after the invasion in 2002. A whole country was needing rebuilt, and police forces were essential. This man got tapped by the US Ambassador to lead a team of grizzled police veterans in training the new police forces. He had a similar level of coolness, of a relaxed demeanor combined with an intense awareness.

Walking through the airport, I realized that I was making all kinds of assumptions about what other people were doing, who they were, what their stories were. I tried to fit them into my stereotypes, into the characters I was used to. A woman, struggling to meet her husband’s expectations. A man, resigned to life on the road, wondering where his real life went. A shoeshiner, somehow loving life just as it was. I wondered, what did my life look like to them? What does it look like to me?

When I think about it, I do have some pretty neat things in my story. I work as a paramedic, a job that I think is way awesome when I stop and think about it. When actually working, I absolutely love it. I do a lot of pretty cool things. I live on a 2200 acre outdoor paradise, where I canoe on a regular basis and hike all the time. I work with awesome people at a flawed ministry that I believe in, down deep, on projects that I seriously enjoy—photography and graphic arts and web design and making visions realities. So why am I so dissatisfied with my life?

I looked at the man with the military-style backpack at the sandwich shop and thought about how much I’d like to be living his life. I made up this whole story to myself about what his life must be like and wanted my life to resemble it. Some of that I can’t do anything about, like having a beard (which is actually a big no-no in my profession) or being taller. Some of it is really about lifestyle choices—I liked how minimal his luggage was, and while I have real minimalistic instincts, I can’t seem to get past my unhealthy attachment to stuff. I often try to rationalize buying new stuff to reduce the stuff I have, but rarely does this work out. Usually buying more stuff simply means that I have more stuff.

My biggest problem is not a desire to live in a better story, but my desire to author it. I’ve come to the realization that I am already in a story—a much bigger story than I could dream up. I read last week that the Bible really focuses on answering big questions, such as what is really important in life. As I’ve studied the Word these past few months, I have come away impressed that life is way bigger than my myopic little American dream. Life is bigger than being a wandering adventurer. Life is bigger than training police forces in Iraq and Afghanistan. Life is bigger than all of these, and the challenge for us is to escape our small stories and embrace the big story of what God is doing.

Mark 10 contrasts two people:

“Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” (Mark 10:15 ESV)

“And Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, ‘How difficult it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!’”(Mark 10:23 ESV)

I never saw the connection before today. When I am rich, how do I solve my problems? I whip out my Visa, I draw from my stored up supplies, I pull cash from my wallet. If I am hungry, I have food in the fridge. If I need to go somewhere, I have a car.

But how does a child solve problems? A child doesn’t have a Visa, or stockpiled resources, or cash. A child has a father, and asks his father.

So which am I? Self-sufficient, independent, and limited to my own abilities? Or dependent on my Father’s infinite resources?

“And I tell you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (Luke 11:9-13 ESV)

Yesterday, I was reading Dave Kraft’s excellent new book Leaders Who Last and was surprised to see him list music among the practices he uses for spiritual growth:

“It is vitally important that each of us discovers his own pathway to deep intimacy with the Lord Jesus Christ. For some, the way is music.…I try to use a combination of things, such as prayer walks, personal retreats, a daily devotional time, worshipful music, genuine community, or accountability with close and honest friends.”¹

Music (apart from lyrics) establishes an emotional atmosphere or mood, and this sets up the lyrics to communicate a message. A particular song can push us towards intimacy with God, or towards a competing affection.²

The connection I made is that while I may choose to listen to a wide variety of music, if I am serious about cultivating a deeper relationship with God, I will choose to pursue music that pushes me in that direction. If I am serious about pursuing better health, than I’m going to choose snacks like trail mix or chopped veggies, not Snickers bars and Fritos. If I am serious about getting to know a friend on a deeper level, then I will choose conversation with him, not go to a movie. So, if I want to be more intimate with God, then I should set myself up for that with the music I listen to. Is the other music, music that doesn’t lead me towards God, wrong? I don’t think so. Is it beneficial? Not really. And, it may even be dangerous, leading me towards the lies of riches and desires for other things that choke the Word of God in my life (³ ).

1. pg. 32. Kraft, Dave. Leaders Who Last (Re: Lit Books). Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 2010. [↩]
2. Note that music doesn’t create that intimacy; its our responsibility to do so. But it can create an environment conducive to it, just as a walk in the woods or a great book or a good sermon can. [↩]
3. but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches and the desires for other things enter in and choke the word, and it proves unfruitful. ( ESV) [↩]

Spot on article from RELEVANT:

“The main problem here is not Christ followers taking too much risk. The problem is that we are not taking enough risk. We’re getting theologically fat and spiritually bored with our safer versions of sunshine-pumping Christianity. Even well-meaning Christian books that encourage us to take more risk are written by well-paid people who seemingly take very little life-threatening risk themselves. “Hear this: It was always supposed to be dangerous. The stakes are high, and many people around the world are in great jeopardy, severely marginalized and in extreme poverty. To state the obvious, people are dying. They need help, and it’s the Good News delivered by the crazy risk-takers who bring it. It’s people like the Korean Christians and countless others who carry it through at great cost.”

Read the rest here.

“Singleness is not the waiting room of adulthood. It a period of refinement that there might be a more radical focus on and devotion to Christ.”

—Laura Clawson, on Twitter

“Never read a Bible verse.”

Mark 2:21–22 is a confusing set of verses. Jesus is answering a question about fasting, then goes off in a seemingly unrelated tangent:

No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment. If he does, the patch tears away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear is made. And no one puts new wine into old wineskins. If he does, the wine will burst the skins—and the wine is destroyed, and so are the skins. But new wine is for fresh wineskins.”

(Mark 2:21-22 ESV)

“No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment. If he does, the patch tears away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear is made. And no one puts new wine into old wineskins. If he does, the wine will burst the skins—and the wine is destroyed, and so are the skins. But new wine is for fresh wineskins.”

The context explains and clarifies Jesus’ cryptic statement. In the immediately prior section¹, Mark introduces the conflict between the Pharisees and Jesus. In first-century Judea, the Pharisees were the religious and cultural leaders. Balancing the demands of the Roman empire and of the Mosaic code, they were both rigidly legalistic and politically savvy. Jesus’ ministry and teachings threatened to upset their entire system. Mark’s introduction to this conflict is the Pharisaical response to Jesus’ ministry: they took issue with his associations with sinners and outcasts.

(more after the jump)

Read the rest of this entry »

1. Mark 2:13–17 [↩]

Sometimes I think I should put a construction sign outside my door: “Caution. God at work.” Its a continual process, kind of like the non-stop construction on Hwy 155 north of town (a project that has been on-going for at least eight years). With me, its a constant pushing onwards, circling back to relearn basics, and growing more like Christ. I’ve got a long ways to go, and I’m confident that it will take many more years before I get there. Thankfully, the eternal fate of my soul does not depend on how fast or slow I learn life’s lessons. Keep reading: Read the rest of this entry »