only ashes

(Editor's note: I'm currently working on a couple things that are not ready for publication so I'm going to share with you a blog entry I wrote for Ash Wednesday last year. Also, I stole the title from this Something Corporate song that is awesome.)

Today is Ash Wednesday. I'm not sure that Baptists really recognize Ash Wednesday. I was baptized Catholic and once you get the holy water on you, you never really get it to completely come off. Even if you later become a Baptist. The point of the tradition is to mark a day of repentance before we transition into the season of Lent for the Christian calendar.

Christians celebrate Lent in different ways, but many of my friends and family choose to use these 46 days before Easter to either give up something or dedicate themselves anew to something. Think of it like a New Year's resolution but made to Jesus. Might be more fun, definitely more guilt involved. Anyway, so this year I decided to give up sweets for 2 reasons: a) I knew it would be hard for me to do with my massive sweet tooth and b) it doesn't hurt to live a healthier, more disciplined lifestyle. I am about 16 hours in at this point and I am gripping. I find myself equivocating on the commitment. Chocolate is obviously out but what about Pop Tarts? How sweet is peanut butter really? Can I put sugar in my coffee? Would Jesus be mad if I got all hyped up on Mountain Dew right now?

It occurs to me that I might be missing the point.

It reminds me of the story of the Transfiguration. Matthew tells the story this way is his gospel.

"Six days later Jesus took with Him Peter and James and John his brother, and led them up on a high mountain by themselves. And He was transfigured before them; and His face shone like the sun, and His garments became as white as light. And behold, Moses and Elijah appeared to them, talking with Him. Peter said to Jesus, 'Lord, it is good for us to be here; if You wish, I will make three tabernacles here, one for You, and one for Moses, and one for Elijah.' While he was still speaking, a bright cloud overshadowed them, and behold, a voice out of the cloud said, 'This is My beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased; listen to Him!' When the disciples heard this, they fell face down to the ground and were terrified." Matthew 17:1-6

This is what it takes to get their attention finally. Really? All the healing and miracles and feeding of five thousands and raising people from the dead just didn't do the trick? God has to bring in the cameo appearances from Moses and Elijah and put the super glow effect on Jesus' face and clothes just to get them to listen!

That's me.

I'm that guy that has to go through every other option, to bargain, to cajole, and to doubt before I finally just stop and pay attention. It takes all that for me to realize that God really just wants to bring me close and teach me what it means to truly follow Him and become like Him. Yeah, it's supposed to be hard to give up something you love, even if just for a time. It drives you to prayer and reliance on Christ.

As we go through the Believe project together and as we progress through the season of Lent towards Easter, I hope we can let God show us again just how amazing and transformational is His mission to the world. I hope that when He asks us to make small sacrifices we realize that what we sacrifice today will be paid back tenfold in days to come. But most of all, I hope that when we doubt and when we wander and when we fall that we'll take the time to pray and to see Jesus for who He is once again.

my funny valentine or why valentine's day is corporate and that's ok

This is a defense of love.

Or maybe more appropriately "Eros." I will refer to it as such for the rest of this essay for simplicity's sake and also because this is how C.S. Lewis dubs it in his book The Four Loves, which forms the basis of my writing.

Every year as the calendar days begin to fall precipitously and dangerously toward February 14, Eros begins to take fire from all sides.

"Valentine's Day is so corporate and commercialized."  "It's nothing but a capitalist conspiracy among the greeting card companies to prop up a make-believe holiday to boost a slow month in sales."  (What?  So you're telling me I can't get a Black History Month card with a sweet picture of George Washington Carver recounting the numerous and glorious uses of the peanut?  And why is this the only thing I can remember from countless public school history classes taught during the month of February?)

So people declare their independence of the evil capitalist machinery, defy the man, and declare their own holidays.  Anti-Valentine's Day.  Ferris Wheel Day.  National Singlehood Awareness Day.  And on and on.  Mostly this is done out of the bitterness that one does not have an appointed valentine to celebrate the day with.  In my opinion though, the lady (or man) doth protest too much.  If anyone declares their worship for Eros, it is the unValentines.  There is no opt-out for love.  We will all love something.  The question is what.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Now I could devote several hundred words to debunking the myth that the evil corporate behemoths of Hallmark and Godiva have manipulated our emotions by forcing their black holiday on us all.  But that's what Wikipedia is for.  And a quick reading of the Valentine's Day entry will show you that the name originates with early Christian martyrs and draws its romantic roots from the days of Geoffrey Chaucer and his Canterbury Tales.

But skip that and let's use a little rhetorical device we lawyers refer to as "assuming arguendo."  So I grant your point: Valentine's Day is a corporate sellout of a holiday foisted upon us as a cruel hoax to convince us to buy copious amounts of greeting cards and chocolates.  My response: So what?

Have you ever noticed that corporations always co-opt stuff that is awesome?  Like Christmas and love and puppies.  We just sat a Super Bowl last week that half the people in the audience were watching solely for the purpose of being sold products through ingenious advertising.  Thousands of people tuned in via the internet for the Steve Jobs to unleash his brilliant move forward in technology for a supersize iPod touch.  When is the last time you saw a corporation spending $2.5 million for a commercial advocating the many desirable qualities of strained peas?  Corporations don't make us want things.  They find things we already want and find ways to make money off selling it to us.

One thing we definitely want, have always wanted, and will always want for as long as the human race subsists is Eros.

So what defines our love/hate relationship with Eros?  Fear.  We are afraid.  And, on the one hand, we have good reason to fear.  Eros is a fearful and brutal master of our emotions, our physical and spiritual well-being.  Never do we feel closer to the truly divine, the unconditional state of love reserved for God Himself then when we declare of our beloved, "anything for you."  We have a healthy distrust of such heavenly, eternal feelings expressed on the drab, mortal earth.  As Lewis writes, "When natural things look most divine, the demoniac is just round the corner."

Yet Eros, fickle Eros, the subject of countless songs and limitless reveries, of all the types of love is the most transitory.  Here today, gone tomorrow.  For no reason but with much protestation.  As easily as one can fall in love without realizing the event is even taking place, the sudden realization of being out of love may come as the even greater surprise to the afflicted party.  This is our second fear and is both unwise and unvirtuous.  While the first was prudent for protecting our right relationship and allegiance with Love Himself, the second fear is a betrayal of that relationship and turning away from the spirit-discerning fire that God presents in the form of Eros.  Again, Lewis explains it much better than I could ever hope.

Of all arguments against love none makes so strong an appeal to my nature as 'Careful! This might lead you to suffering.' ... When I respond to that appeal I seem to myself to be a thousand miles away from Christ.  If I am sure of anything I am sure that His teaching was never meant to confirm my congenital preference for safe investments and limited liabilities.  I doubt whether there is anything in me that pleases Him less.

When I took my first job out of law school, I found myself for the first time with a 401k to manage and sitting in front of a financial adviser asking me the foreign yet primary philosophical question of my existence, "Would you like a low, moderate, or high risk of investment?"  You see, in life, there will be risk.  The only question is how much we will risk, how brave we will be.  There are more grievous sins in this life than cowardice.  Like foolishness.  The foolishness of believing that we can have one attitude toward Eros and our fellow human beings without having that attitude affect our relationship with God.  How can we ever lead ourselves to believe that we could take some safe route, low-risk strategy toward love in this life while expecting to be united to Love Himself in the next?

If a man is not uncalculating towards the earthly beloveds whom he has seen, he is none the more likely to be so towards God whom he has not.  We shall draw nearer to God, not by trying to avoid the sufferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them and offering them to Him; throwing away all defensive armour.  If our hearts need to be broken, and if He chooses this as the way in which they should break, so be it. 

A survey of the biblical narrative leaves one thoroughly convinced that the story of human existence is the Love Story, the one of which all the Dear Johns and Valentine's Days of the world are but faint and imperfect shadows.  The mystery to which Saint Paul referred to as the fated marriage of Christ and his bride, the Church.  Love did not pursue us carefully but recklessly from the Garden of Eden to the Garden of Gethsemane, from Mount Sinai to Mount Calvary.

We should not turn our backs on Saint Valentine's Day.  It is truly a holy day.  And in this world of hate, we could use a few more days to celebrate Love.

(This installment is a second excerpt from my future book, How to Date an Unattainable Woman and Other Things I Don't Know.  Previously excerpted here.)

as freedom is a breakfastfood

I never thought of myself as one of those lock-yourself-away-in-a-closet-awaiting-the-end-times, conspiracy freak, fear-mongering, technology haters until I read the following passage from an essay entitled "FAIL" by Chuck Klosterman.

When it's warm out I like to sit inside air-conditioned rooms. ...

Yet what am I giving up in order to have a 70 degree living room in July?

Nothing that's particularly important to me.

For the air conditioner to work, I need to live in a building that has electricity, so I have to connected to the rest of society.  That's fine.  That's no problem.  Of course, to be accepted by society, I have to accept the rules and laws of community living.  That's fine, too.  Now, to thrive and flourish and afford my electric bill, I will also have to earn money.  But that's okay--most jobs are social and many are enriching and unnecessary.  However, the only way to earn money is to do something (or provide something) that is valued by other people.  And since I don't get to decide what other people value, what I do to make a living is not really my decision.  So--in order to have air-conditioning--I will agree to live in a specific place with other people, following whatever rules happen to exist there, all while working at a job that was constructed by someone else for their benefit.

In order to have a 70-degree living room, I give up almost everything.

Yet nothing that's particularly important to me.

The point is: "Technology is a more powerful social force than the aspiration for freedom."

We don't value freedom.  We constantly make decisions that we know will result in the forfeiting of our freedoms and we do so for the worst of all reasons: comfort.

We don't value freedom and we will trade it for almost anything.

Our freedoms are daily, constantly under assault and almost never in the ways we would expect.

For a minor example, just take a look at the sports world.  This week all eyes are focused on Miami, the site of Super Bowl XLIV.  The Colts' quarterback, Peyton Manning, is the center of attention as he is the most talented player in Sunday's game if not in the game of football today.  Yet he has only won one Super Bowl in a career marked by statistical accolades and accomplishments.  If the Colts emerge victorious on Sunday night, almost every commentator on every sports station in the world will be anointing him as the greatest quarterback in the history of the National Football League.

This will happen for two reasons.  One, sports commentators need something to talk about and they always want to claim that we are watching the greatest player to ever play the game.  Historically great players sell out stadiums and lead to huge television contracts for the networks.  They sell commercials, they move merchandise, and they inspire us to greatness ourselves.

That is precisely why we should never proclaim someone the greatest to play their particular position until we are really sure about it.  There's more than just money on the line.

The second reason is because Peyton Manning fits a quarterback archetype that has been in place since long before he ever stepped on a football field.  Nevermind that he lacks the golden arm of Johnny Unitas or the charisma of Joe Namath or the grit and toughness of Terry Bradshaw or the cool demeanor of the ultimate winner Joe Montana.

After all, he comes to the line on each play screaming like a cracked-out paranoid schizophrenic with Tourette's syndrome.  That's got to count for something, right?

Color me unimpressed.  That's why I will never think Peyton Manning is the greatest quarterback of all time.  Because I don't buy into the hype.  Manning didn't invent the audible.  He's just a smart quarterback who has played on above average teams and won Super Bowl(s) in years in which there were no great teams out there to knock him out of the playoffs.

But commentators will anoint him nonetheless.  Because it is easier to join the chorus of the crowd than to risk singing off key.

We don't want freedom because we fear the burden that freedom carries.

In an example wholly foreign to discussions of football, consider the movement within young evangelical churches to rekindle the theology of John Calvin.

In short, the newly reformed evangelical movement takes the position that freedom is an illusion and that God in his sovereignty controls "even our smallest decisions."

This, of course, leads to a host of theological problems for people who are considering the existence of evil in the world and trying to reconcile that with the idea of a good and omnipotent God.  Why does God allow evil people to prosper while the virtuous continue to suffer?  Why did God even bother to create human beings at all if they were merely going to be automatons and pawns in a grander struggle ever frustrated by their inability to exercise free will?  How can a creation without the ability to make its own choices be held to the consequences because of sin?  Why create a world where Jesus Christ would have to suffer a horrific, undignified death on a cross if sin and evil could have been prevented if God was just more careful in His stewardship of creation?

As you might be able to tell, I'm no Calvinist.

But the question is: Why is anyone?  It is a completely unsatisfying theology ending only in fatalism and despair when put in the context of a world of suffering and in light of the inability of human beings to effect any real change in the world.

We're scared to be free.  We fear what the realization of our own freedom might be.  So we would rather have our theology dictated to us by John Piper than take the time to read the Bible for ourselves and draw our own conclusions.  Certainly, God never intended for Christians to bother with an original thought or a new theology after his greatest and final prophet John Calvin left the earth.

We don't want to think for ourselves.  It's easier this way.  For one, if we rely on our own thoughts, we could end up making mistakes.  We could end up being wrong.

Well, you can count me in the same camp as Galileo who said, "I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use."

I would rather take the risky, adventurous path of freedom and end up being wrong than be right but in chains.  I would rather worship a God who loves me than one who controls me.

Great theologians, quarterbacks, and commentators took risks and felt freedom.  We cannot abandon that freedom for a comfortable existence now.

And if we do, then there's no greatness left in us.

Sacrilegious

Sunday mornin' wake up early,
Skip church service to find my Jesus.
I know it sounds so sacrilegious,
But I just don't belong in a place like that.

These words are not just the opening salvo from a track titled "Sacrilegious" on Never Shout Never's new album.  They seem to be the cry of a generation of would-be Christians.

My pastor tweeted an interesting rhetorical question today: "What has happened to student ministries in young, progressive churches? My denom baptized 140k teens in 1972; last yr only 75k."

It's not a question that can only be posed to a Southern Baptist reader but anyone who is part of a church.  My generation is bailing out of the church like never before.  It's enough to make me wonder: What is the disconnect?  Are we just a particularly Satanic and evil generation bent on disappointing our parents and forever disturbing culture as we have previously known it?  Somehow, I doubt it.

I think the more interesting answer resides in the chorus.

I love the cause but not the act.

I love a good cause.  The tragedy being felt in Haiti involves devastation I can never hope to comprehend or explain.  But the healing that has begun through a series of text messages, tweets, benefit concerts, basketball games brings me so much hope for this world.  It is hard to go anywhere and not see on display the endless signs of generosity and solidarity with the Haitian people.  The darkest nights are often pierced by the purest light.  It has been a lament to see so many lose their lives.  It has been a joy to see so many saved.

We may never be the "Greatest Generation."  But we may be the "Good Generation."  Our generation is generous, thoughful, soulful, and hopeful.  (It doesn't hurt that we provide such a stark contrast to our ne'er do well, careless Gen X brethren.  Time to face it.  We're pretty much the world's last best hope and that brings out the best in us every time.)

So why don't we believe in the church?

One reason is that we love the cause but not the act.  The Christian act of having it all figured out.  We know how you ought to live, where you should work, what music and art you should enjoy.  And above all, we know how you should experience God.

For a group of people who believe the kind of foolishness that has men raising from the dead, we sure do have it all figured out.  One time in my life, I'd like to be a part of church where screwed up people feel like they belong.

'Cause Jesus was a friend and not a judge.
He loved the sinners as much as he loved the little ones.
That man was love and not an act.

So if the first reason we're lost is the way we do church.  The second is the way we treat Jesus.

You may notice that I don't spend all of my posts on this blog or any of my various social networks solely laying out today's bit of theology.  I used to try to get to know God like that.  But at some point in my life I realized I'm probably not going to find God in a book.  Sure, I'll find Him in some.  But I'll also find God in art and music and sunsets.  And where I'm most likely to find God is wherever I am.  Because He's been pursuing me for a long time.

Now that's not a knock on educated people.  I am one.  But you have to know that you don't have a monopoly on God.  Neither do the artists or the musicians or the scientists or the missionaries.  We all know God in our own way and that is a perfectly natural occurence.

I really like my dad.  And I could tell you stories all day about things he has taught me or advice he's given me or mistakes he's kept me from making.  I could tell you what he does for a living or what he really gets excited about or what he is hoping for in the future.  But until I actually introduce you to him, you're not going to know who he is.  And even after I introduce you to him, you're still not going to know him like I do. 

Because he's the guy that taught me how to swing a baseball bat and how to win an argument and how to know when it's not worth the fight and how to know when it is.

I think knowing Jesus works about the same way.  You probably know Jesus a little differently than I do.  Because you've been through different things together and you've had different conversations than we've had.  You're not going to be able to introduce me to him by exposing me to systematic theology or outlining Thomas Aquinas' view of the trinity.  I'm not going to know him until I meet Him for myself and I'm not going to learn anything about Him until we have some experiences together.  That man was love and not an act.

I'll be the first to admit that treating Jesus as a person and not an idea is pretty difficult and might even have some uncomfortable theological implications.  But if He really is a person, that's probably one of the most important aspects of his personality.  And we're definitely never going to know him until we start treating him like one.

Happy Holidays

I have an idea for a short story. The main conceit involves a faceless, unnamed Christmas shopper who gets into an argument with Jesus about what is more proper to say during the yuletide season, "Happy Holidays" or "Merry Christmas." I can just imagine so many generic, sincere, and earnest Christians getting into an argument about their level of support for Christmas with the guy whose birth we are celebrating. I'm not saying that Jesus isn't interested in protecting the "true meaning" of his birthday and all. It just seems that Christ is a lot more tolerant of those who refuse to acknowledge him than those who claim to want to be like him. I know this mostly because of the influx of my Facebook friends who became a fan of "I say Merry Christmas, not Happy Holidays" within the last three weeks. I am utterly convinced that joining that group is like unringing a bell. Every time you do, an angel loses his wings.

I didn't write that short story, though. Mostly because I wrote this essay instead and kind of stole my own thunder if that is something you can possibly do. (Maybe I will write it later and this essay will become a really cool prequel-type commentary on what I was trying to express.) Really, I decided to write an essay because I am better at that and the last time I wrote a short story I'm pretty sure I was in fifth grade and the main characters were a dog and a cat who talked and spoke English but couldn't spell all that well.

Chuck Klosterman concludes his book Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs with a discussion of the born-again worldview, a subject he feels educated enough to discuss based mostly on a recent reading of the Left Behind series.

There is no sophisticated reason for believing in anything supernatural, so it really comes down to believing you're right.  This is another example of how born agains are cool--you'd think they'd be humble, but they've got to be amazingly cocksure.  And once you've crossed over, you don't even have to try to be nice; according to the born again exemplar, your goodness will be a natural extension of your salvation.

This is ultimately what causes Klosterman to reject Christianity out of hand.  He can't believe that such a thing is possible.  That doing good would just be a natural outpouring of conversion.  Of course, no one believes this.  Not even Christians.  Otherwise, we wouldn't be constantly consciously trying to do so many "good" things.

I'm a sucker for a good cause.  Like. Honestly. Can't. Say. No.

Salvation Army guy at the front door of Walmart.  Hit you up on the way in and on the way out.  Dig wells in the bush?  Sure, I'll text SAVE to 56789 and give you $5.  I mean, how can I not?  I just spent $15 on iTunes because I was bored.  Am I really going to deny AIDS medication to destitute children in sub-Saharan Africa so I can download obscure EPs from Never Shout Never?  Buy books for kids who need to learn to read at the checkout at Barnes & Noble?  How could I live with myself if these kids didn't get to hear the same stories about big red dogs that I did (or their 2009 equivalents)?

Why am I this way?  Well, guilt mostly.  I still haven't figured out if this makes me a really good Christian or a really bad one.  Probably both ,but the point is that I am infected with the same virus as everyone else that causes a crying out from deep within my soul saying, "DO SOMETHING!"

While I am sure it is oversimplification, most of the infirmities of the human condition originate from two core diseases most economically labeled as rebellion and religion.  A quick definition of rebellion would be trying to do the wrong thing and a quick definition of religion would be trying to the right thing.  If the rebellion that has forever separated us from God is solved at the foot of the cross, then our problems with religion are solved in a manger.

Almost none of the Christians I know understand the "true meaning" of Christmas.  The reason for this is because instead of doing our job and just waiting on Jesus to be born, we are constantly trying to do stuff.  It is amazing how easy it is to be tempted to do the wrong thing when doing the right thing isn't leading to our preferred results.  H.L. Mencken put it this way, "Every normal man is tempted at some point to spit on his hands, raise the black flag, and begin slitting throats."  That is no way to live a life of patience, humility, and serenity.  Nor do I expect to soon read that quote scribbled into the bottom of a Christmas card under a colorful picture of a crèche.  Yet instead of pausing to reflect on the promised birth of Christ, we spend Christmas trying to get all militant and enforcing our spiritual beliefs on others.  We make our family and friends endure our awkward, is-everyone-down-with-this prayers and represent our piety by boycotting stores who would dare to say "Happy Holidays!" no matter how jovially.  We capitalize the "Christ" in "CHRISTmas" because that's what you do if you are truly holy and near to the promised infant. 

It's going to be pretty hard to get the Christ out of Christmas as long as we maintain the name and keep celebrating it on the date widely associated with his birth.  We make the commercialization of Christmas a tale of blasphemy and while surely a shameful development, commercialism is a poor adversary for the King of Kings.  Commercialism is a pretty powerful force in the modern world but it is still pretty hard to compete with virgin births and supernatural celestial events.  We've anointed Jared commercials as an enemy not because they are endlessly annoying (seriously, how is it possible to make even the expression of love so repugnant?) but because religion requires an enemy.

Wakey! Wakey! demonstrates religion's need to justify itself in the song "War Sweater."

Battle lines drawn if you wonder which side speaks the truth
then look closely to which speaks from pride
I love you. I swear it. I would never lie...
But I fear for our lives and I fear your closed eyes...

You wear your religion like a War Sweater.
You ask for the truth, but you know you could do so much better,
and you sat on your fences, you've screamed no retreat...
So now what will your legacy be?

Here we are at the dawn of advent awaiting the promised Prince of Peace and somehow we have made Christmas about declaring a petty American culture war.  We know the Christ child as the Lamb of God, comparatively docile among the types of farm animals, so what makes us so eager to take up arms?  If anyone is guilty of taking Christ out of Christmas, it is American Christians who would rather insert an angrier version of Jesus ready to win the culture on behalf of reformed theologians and then run for President.  It is staggering how much our version of what Jesus would do if he were here today differs from the life he actually lived while on the earth.  How did we get here to this place?

In the whole story of the birth of Christ, the only person who seems to truly understand the significance of the event is the mother, Mary.  Upon being visited by an angel, which had to be a pretty mystifying experience in itself, and then being told all manners of craziness mostly surrounding the fact that she would give birth though a virgin she simply responds, "I am the Lord's servant.  May it be to me as you have said."  Mary, of course, is also the one who will be jeopardizing her relationship, be mocked by society, and shunned by her family when she tries to repeat this ridiculous virgin birth nonsense to others.  Yet, she is the picture of serenity and patience.  That kind of faith helps you understand why some people venerate Mary to such a degree. 

The difference between waiting and acting is the difference between love and romance.  Love is quiet, patient, almost passive.  There might not be a greater beauty on earth than a still silence shared between lovers who desire nothing more than to be together.  Romance may have all the bells and whistles but the most hopeless of romantics only dreams to ultimately share those quiet moments.  If we could only learn to wait on the birth of Jesus, we might also learn to value the waiting moments as the sweetest time we would ever spend with God.

ultimate christmas mix vol. 5

Track 1

The Christmas Song - Owl City

Track 2

Winter Wonderland - hello goodbye

Track 3

Rocking Around The Christmas Tree - Cartel

Track 4

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas - Coldplay

Track 5

The Christmas Song - Gavin DeGraw

Track 6

Blue Christmas - Bright Eyes

Track 7

White Christmas (Live) - Keane

Track 8

Baby Please Come Home - Anberlin

Track 9

Little Drummer Boy - The Almost

Track 10



Track 11

Carol Of The Bells - Mae

Track 12

All I Want For Christmas Is You - My Chemical Romance

Track 13



Track 14

The Only Gift That I Need - Dashboard Confessional

Track 15

30 days - nevershoutnever

Track 16

Winter Passing (Single Version) - The Academy Is...

Track 17



Track 18

all i want for christmas is us - Tristan Prettyman Jason Mraz

Track 19



Track 20

Winter Song - Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson

Track 21



So now that you love this album, let me know in the comments that you want a copy and we'll work something out. There is only one rule to the Christmas mix. If anyone asks for it, you must give them a copy. Christmas is to be shared.