We Have Met the Enemy

Here's one of those things that's going to date me. When I was a kid of the popular and sometimes controversial comic strips was one called "Pogo," done by Walt Kelly. Pogo was both funny and political, doing for the 1950's what "Li'l Abner" did for the 60's, what "Doonesbury" did for the 70's and 80's, what "Bloom County"did for the 90's, and I guess "Non-Sequiter" and who knows what is doing now. "Pogo" hit its stride in the so-called "McCarthy Era," Specifically, Walt Kelly's strip poked fun at the uniquely American brand of fascism; the very fear-and-hate-mongering type of politics that many Americans had just given their lives in Europe and Asia to overcome.

Pogo himself was an opossum, inhabiting the Okefenokee (sp.?) swamp with an alligator, an owl, a turtle, and a host of other characters bearing striking and intentional resemblance to political figures of the day. Ostensibly an innocent bystander to the "politics" of the swamp, Pogo was in fact the voice of wisdom in the midst of madness. Arguably, Pogo's best known quote, issued in a story line of ridiculous paranoia and blame-gaming, is this: "We have met the enemy, and he is us!"

True. All of us are quick to assign blame when things go sour for us in our life journey, starting with the one at the keyboard now. In fact, though, more often than not we are at least the co-authors of our circumstances. In no way am I discounting the reality of spiritual warfare (attacks from the evil one) or real disturbance and damage caused by people acting on harmful motives. Still, especially for those of us who enjoy circumstances the rest of the world would regard as "privileged," few of us are pure victims. Jesus spoke about guarding our own hearts first, removing the mote in our eye before we go after the speck in the eye of someone else, etc. Too often what incites us in others is in fact a reflection of what we hide and/or deny in ourselves.

Change in others starts with change in us. Just my thoughts...I'll see you around the next bend in the river.

The Dark Place

It is a circumstance/setting/time that goes by many names. St. John of the Cross called it, "The Dark Night of the Soul." Henri Nouwen referred to it as "a place of solitude." Some would call it retreat, though that word has been pacified and candied to mean nothing more than temporary respite.

For retreat is not a place to rest and recharge our batteries so we can charge back into the fray, doing the same things the same way, and dealing with the same draining frustrations. Retreat is transformation, and transformation necessitates a journey to the dark place. The place of solitude can be a battleground; literally, the site of spiritual warfare. It brings us face to face with the real darkness within each of us...a darkness that no amount of positive thinking, determination, or slick veneer can erase.

It is the place where we can no longer depend on the scaffolding we have carefully constructed to prop up the illusion of our lives. No achievement placards adorn the walls. The people who smile, slap us on the back, and glad-hand us at parties are utterly gone. The appearance we have carefully sculptured in ourselves, in those around us, and in the adornments that frame us have disappeared. The familiar sound of affirming voices is replaced by deafening silence. The fastidiously preserved foundations of our cherished past no longer matter, for they have vanished. We do not even have access to the family and friends whom we love the most, and whose presence fills our lives with joy and purpose. All the surrounding "lights" of our lives are out, and we stand just as we are - the good, the bad, and the ugly that is us - in utter darkness. It is a darkness so complete, that, like a frightened child, we are to terrified to take a step in any direction.

It is in this place, the dark place, that faith becomes real, and not just verbiage and show. For at this point, there are two choices. We can give in to despair, believing that life is nothing more than staving off the reality of nothingness as long as we can. Or, we can leap into the arms of Jesus, who is the only light against whom the darkness cannot prevail, and who is relentlessly, furiously reaching to us in the dark night.

Scary...few people journey intentionally to the dark place of the soul, for good reason. But those who do find a light worth living for and a faith worth dying for. And that transforms the world.

I'll see you around the next bend in the river.

Bonding and Bridging

As I enter the second half of my sabbatical leave I'm reading some fascinating books. One of them is UnChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity by David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons. This is a must-read for any Jesus followers who are serious about offering a relationship with Jesus among those born after Vietnam. If you don't digest and take seriously the findings of these two accomplished culturalists and researchers, don't even bother with trying to "get those young people in church."

The other is Bowling Alone by Harvard professor and researcher Robert D. Putnam. This book was given to me by a friend, and it tracks the decline of a sense of "community" in American culture. It's a little dated; written in 2000, before the emergence of MySpace/Facebook/Twitter-type social networking. Still, the overall data is telling. We don't make direct social connection like we once did, and social connection itself is being redefined.

Many of you may have already encountered this book and/or Putnam's findings and projections.
One thing that's important is the concept of "social capital" - the fact that social groupings have value and power, that affects people both individually and collectively. Putnam notes the difference between groups that are designed for BONDING (which are exclusive) and groupings that are designed for BRIDGING (which are inclusive.) He says, "Bonding social capital is...good for 'getting by,' but bridging social capital is good for 'getting ahead.' ...Bonding social capital constitutes a kind of sociological superglue, whereas bridging capital provides a sociological WD-40." (Page 23.) Both have value, and human beings gain from both. One leans toward stasis, though, while the other leans toward growth. Bonding says, "We're happy with who we are and who we have," while bridging says, "We exist to bring more in."

It seems to me that many established churches have done the bonding thing real well, but are now struggling to swing the pendulum to the bridging side. That's my two cents for the day and week. I'll see you around the next bend in the river.

Musings from a Worship Newcomer

During my sabbatical I've had the chance to worship with several congregations other than our own. I'll be with five more before the leave is over. I'm enjoying them all, but I'm remembering just how hard it is to go to a worship service as a complete stranger. And in the last several weeks I've attended churches that do pretty well in the ministry of hospitality.

It's hell-on-wheels for a first time visitor; particularly people like me who lean introverted. The distance from your car to a safe seat might as well be the distance between New York and Los Angeles. It's an eternity going from the parking lot to the place of worship. On the one hand, as a newcomer, I hope that someone will welcome me and help me find my way to the right location. I pray to experience more than that lingering once-over you get from some church folks, just before the lean toward the person next to them (while still looking at you) as ask, "Who is that?!?" It's nice to get some level of attention or recognition. At the same time I cringe at being pounced on like the only person walking on to a used car lot. It's possible to be over-attentive to a new person, creating discomfort with choreographed hospitality.

Two things I realize as a guest in worship...First, many church folks put all their eggs in the wrong baskets in their hopes of attracting new people. We assume that the right music, the right worship style, the right preacher, the right technology, and the right innovation will seal the deal with a newcomer. In fact, the deal is already sealed before worship begins. It happens between the parking lot and the seats. Second, hospitality isn't about technique. It's about atmosphere. Either a church pulsates the desire to welcome people into the arms of a loving and saving God or it does not. Newcomers can smell an atmosphere, one way or another. In fact, they are the best gauge as to whether or not hospitality is present and/or genuine.

I'll see you around the next bend in the river.

The Michael Jackson Tragedy

If I was an invested student of pop culture I'd be watching the coverage of Michael Jackson's funeral today. Instead, in my continuing laziness of the last three weeks, I've finally rented "Spiderman 3." How's that for shallow?!?

It's not that I'm an antagonist of the alleged King of Pop. It's true that I'm an aging hard-rocker. I came of age as a music fan with the Jimmy Hendrix Experience, Eric Clapton, Iron Butterfly, and Grand Funk Railroad, and I've disdained the sweetsy-pop stuff since the days of the Jackson 5. Thus, I've never been a fan. Still, I recognize that Michael Jackson broke open the genre of music video, and created a style that's been emulated for over three decades. I appreciate the millions of dollars he has put into charities. And, though I have my concerns about some elements of his character, I cannot cast stones of judgement, due to my own faith values.

Mostly, I just find it all terribly sad. In Michael Jackson I see a person constantly trying to remold himself. And I never saw this remolding as a positive thing. Rather, it seemed to be some kind of desperation fueled by self-loathing and/or craving for approval. With all his obvious gifts and talents, Michael Jackson never seemed settled with himself. We all joked about the alleged plastic surgeries and his freakish appearance changes. Behind it all was some kind of inner tragedy. And we've turned this tragic figure into an icon. (Supposedly, seats for Michael Jackson's funeral today were sold on Ebay for as high as $10,000.) In death, the King of Pop is at god-status for many people who probably struggle with their own desperation to rebuild themselves into something other than who they are.

It's a stark contrast with the One who shows us that we cannot change who and what we are, but that the God who made us and loves us longs for us and seeks us as if each of us was the King of Pop times infinity! And it is this God who will make us new creatures - the creatures we were created in love to be all along. I'll see you around the next bend in the river.