I am Tiger Woods

On Thursday, February 18, my wife and I were sitting in Denver’s airport. On the television there was a special news report. The report was about Tiger Woods, and his decision to hold a private press conference on Friday, February 19. Following this announcement the news reporter brought in comments from all over the country. Sports analysts, PGA Tour Pros – they even included comments from Facebook, Twitter and “person-on-the-street” interviews. I sat listening to multiple people rip Tiger apart for his poor choices. They critiqued his decision, his timing, his demand for privacy, and pretty much anything else about the man.

Beyond the criticism was the underlying sense of entitlement that exists in so many. One person even went so far as to talk about his anger at Tiger. Mind you, this person has never met Tiger. But, in his words, “Have been a huge fan.” Does someone like that even have a right to be angry at Tiger?

Since all the news broke more than three months ago I have heard scores of opinions about Tiger from multiple sources. Yet on this morning, in the airport something struck me. For just a few hours before, as I was getting ready for bed I wiped the ashes from my forehead that I had received on Ash Wednesday.

Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent. It is one of the most sobering days in the Church calendar. It is a day in which we reflect on the brokenness in our hearts and lives, confess, repent, and prayerfully consider what it means to continue to be transformed. Worshippers who participate in this Holy Day receive ashes on their forehead. However it has not always been like this.

The Ashes used to be reserved for those people who had committed the really “big” sins. You know, the sins that are fun to talk about. The sins that make for a good Google search. The sins that are exposed for all to see. The sins that we can easily throw rocks at because it is such a big, satisfying target to hit. These people were called penitents, and they were given the mark of the ashes as a public sign of their disgrace.

Over the years some of the more truly pious in the Church in an act of humility and a show of solidarity with the penitents would receive the ashes. They willfully stepped forward to be marked as “sinners.” Eventually the number of people who bore ashes extended to all who were a part of the Church. It was a way for everyone to say that though their sins may not be as public, their brokenness was just as grievous as anyone else’s. It was a way for the Church to say to one another, “We are all in the business of sin, shame, guilt, and brokenness together.”

As I sat and listened to Tiger get torn to shreds by most everyone, and reflected on all the derogatory, arrogant, and condescending comments that have been made about Tiger (by all people – Christians included) I began to think about my ashes. I heard the words that our faith community prayed together the day before, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.” I began to think about my shortcomings, my sin, and my arrogance. I began to contemplate that if everyone knew the sins of my heart, the sins that I am capable of conjuring, the schemes I have considered - then you would know that I, too, am a sinner. And you would probably want to treat me the same way Tiger is being treated.

I found myself reflecting on the first series of Tiger Woods Nike commercials. And like all those kids, but in a completely different context, my ashes were a declaration saying, “I am Tiger Woods.”

Some content adapted with permisson from Stuart Malloy, Copyright 2009 CRI Voice, Insitute

the need for the institutional church

I am a pastor. I am a pastor of a local church. Our church was given a building a few years back. Our building has a room with a lot of chairs. On Sunday mornings and evenings, people gather to sing together and listen to teaching. Some who come give their hard earned cash. We have a budget. We have trustworthy people who oversee that budget. We have a staff who serves and empowers those who are a part of our local church. We have an elder team who cares for us. We have a deacon team who oversees our resources.

Why all of these pointless, stunted sentences? Simply to point out that our local church is like many local churches. By that I mean we are an organization or an institution. Some do not like church as institution, and for very good reasons. That is fine. The truth, is neither do I. But I am willing to live within it. Let me tell you why.

The church needs fresh thinking, and needs leaders who can (and no doubt will) redefine what we think of when we hear the word “church”. We need unconventional churches that don’t just think outside the box, but blow the box up and start fresh. We should champion such pioneering and creative efforts. But there is another side that we would do well to consider.

For whatever reason a lot of people spend a good chunk of their time each Sunday to enter church buildings to sit and participate in local church gatherings. We have an audience that is willfully captive. This is a time to use what people know and are familiar with to lead them to a place they do not know or are not familiar with. This is the basis of educational philosophy.

No one would ever start math education with calculus. Calculus does not make sense to a five year-old (and still does not make sense to most people). Teachers know they have to build a knowledge base, and then build on that. Children begin their education by learning how to identify each number. Only then do they begin with addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division.

For many, innovative thinking with regard to “church” is frightening and they are unwilling to move anywhere. Not only are they unwilling to move, but they become more entrenched in their thinking and may even regress. As human beings when we are presented with something we do not know, we often go back to what we do know even if that is damaging.

A friend of mine used to say, “The most common mistake of a leader is to go to his or her next logical step and not the followers.” Many people who are thinking, speaking, and writing about the need of the church to change have great thoughts. But they have moved so far down the road that many do not know what the first step is to getting there. So they simply never move.

For better or worse many are comfortable with an institutional local church. For those who are familiar with this, we should use it as a platform to teach them a greater vision of the Church. We should use their familiarity with “church” to introduce to them the revolution that Jesus started 2,000 years ago. We should use our fairly typical Sunday gatherings to teach them what it means to be a part of the movement referred to as the “Kingdom of Heaven”.

From this we can teach about taking the next step. Rather than spend our time throwing stones at the institutional church or fighting against let’s use it. Let’s engage it. It is more slow going, and often more painful, but in the end there lies a good chance that more people might just get a little further down the road. And when this happens the Church will look more like the group of people living as the embodiment of Jesus in our world.

church is not different

Yesterday I was with a friend who was telling me about a church that he visited. He said there motto, slogan, mission statement (whatever you want to call it) is, “We do church differently.” This statement, or one like it, has been a battle cry of sorts for quite a few churches in more recent years. Although it seems to be a popular phrase I have to admit, I do not understand what it meant by doing church differently.

At first glance I ask what is meant by “church.” It seems that when a person is talking about “doing church” they are speaking about an event – as in something that happens on Sunday morning. If this is the case, then the reality is it probably will not be much different. We can tinker all we want, but no amount of coffee, couches, seating configurations, different ways of teaching, location of gatherings, or anything else is going to make any of this much different.

In reality, an event or gathering of the people of God on a Sunday or any other day of the week that (commonly referred to as a worship service) are all quite the same. There may be differences in music style and volume. Those present may wear a t-shirts and jeans instead of a suit and tie. But in the end the gathering is often predicated on the same idea. A gathering of God’s people to commune, worship, contribute, experience, and learn. The difference between events is akin to chocolate ice cream versus chocolate chip cookie dough. Both ice cream, and both good in their own right, but still two different combinations of the same basic ingredients.

If “church” is not being referred to as an event, but an institution or an organization it will still not be as “different” as some would like it to be. If we are honest with ourselves any grouping of people comes with a structure. Families. Sports teams. Even a group of college students going on a spring break trip has some level of organization. There are some structures that fit some and other structures that fit some. Regardless of what the structure is the better question just might be, “What is the spiritual and emotional health of those within the organization?”

Take the best structure out there and put unhealthy people in it and you will have an unhealthy organization, the opposite is also (almost) true. When we speak about “different” can we just admit that we might need a structure that fits us better? Then can we admit together that we are still operating within some sort of structure?

Some may think, “No, we are organic!” Fine, but allow me to ask, “Are you aware of the intricate complexities of organic farming which necessitates exacting science and knowledge along with precise attention to detail?” Structures come in all shapes and sizes. Some are rigid, others flexible. Some clearly defined, others loosely defined. In the end they are all structures. And like ice cream, they are different.

Back to the statement, “doing church differently.” After taking a couple of stabs at what "church" might mean in this context, I have to ask, “What does ‘different’ mean?” Different from what? Different from who? Different from ... church?

No matter what is meant we are still living in contrast to something else. Should we really be defining our local faith communities by what we are not? Should we really begin by telling people how we are different from what they may (or may not) know? Perhaps we should begin by just telling people what we are … it is up to them to care about the differences.

When we live by comparing ourselves to something that is already existing we rarely get too far away from that thing. When someone says, “She is an out-of-the-box thinker!” It seems that the box is still a point of reference. This is why Walt Disney talked about throwing the box out altogether, because one then has a truly blank canvas on which to create.

Although I am not clear on what the intent is behind “doing church differently” it may be better to simply scratch the whole motto altogether. We are all a part of a much larger story about God and his people. We are all ice cream, and the reality is that each generation (and multiple groups within each generation) prefer different flavors. Rather than talk about what we are not like or what we are against, maybe we should only speak about the goodness of our particular flavor while recognizing the other kind is pretty good too.

Surely some will want to differentiate between themselves and those who have practiced hate instead of love, exclusion instead of inclusion, or condemnation instead of mercy ... rest assured no comparison is necessary. People who live like that are something, but they are not the embodiment of Jesus in our world that we have come to call the Church.

Maybe we should just stick to telling and retelling the bigger story of which we are a part, and speak of our participation in it. We just might begin to see how big this whole thing really is. Wouldn’t it be great if that was enough?

WHEN RIGHT IS LIKE WRONG

We live in a world of right and wrong. By that I mean, we live in a world where we believe that we are right, and those who disagree with us are wrong. If you disagree with that statement and think I am wrong and you are right; well you have just proven my point.

If we pause and think, most, if not all, of our associations or groups are based on a belief that the way we think is right. In addition to believing that we are right we often distance ourselves from another group that we believe is wrong. If we dig a little more we might even begin to see that we inform our beliefs and draw our identity from the other group who tells us what we are not. It seems that few can exist without an opposite to compare and contrast against. Which causes me to ask, "If you are convinced you are right, then why get so upset when someone disagrees or questions you?"

When was the last time you engaged in a civil conversation about politics and spoke only about what you believe? When was the last time you were able to speak about your faith without speaking in less than flattering terms about another view? When was the last time you were able to speak about anything without some reflection on the competition, the other, or the enemy? These conversations seem to be in short supply in our world today.

It seems that the more deeply held the belief the more vitriol is poured out on the other. We dehumanize those who think differently, for if he is a lunatic than I must be in my right mind. And after all a lunatic cannot possibly be right. So we look at a group who we feel speaks and acts in a degrading way toward us. We think to ourselves, “What a bunch of awful people.” The response? To degrade them back. Yet the more we speak and act against them … the more like them we become.

In the end then the very group we have tried to distance ourselves from becomes the group we end up looking most like. This is why the groups that we become most like are the groups that we hate the most. Because for everything we hate about them, deep inside we know that the same resides inside us.

But, it does not have to be like this. When we speak of the other, the antagonist, the enemy, or the competition we ought not be speaking of our disposition. It is interesting to note that the word for “enemy” in the biblical narrative speaks not about how you feel about the other, but how the other feels about you. The slant in the Bible is to presume that you are not the one who harbors hostility, but that others may harbor hostility toward you.

So when Jesus says, “Love your enemy.” He is not saying, “Love the people that you do not like, want anything to do with, and that you constantly compare yourself against to give yourself a feeling of superiority.” What he is saying is, “Love the person who does not like you, want anything to do with you, and who constantly compares himself against you to give himself a feeling of superiority.” Jesus does not presume loving your enemy is a foreign concept, because enmity has no place in the heart of his followers.

Instead of living in such a way where we attack what is different. Compare and contrast against others who look, think, or believe differently. Rally around hatred, fear, and a common enemy to create solidarity in our particular group. All of which only leads us to be like those we think are different … we should take a better path, which in the end might just have the same result, minus the hate.

Let’s start by finding what we share in common. We can all admit we that all human beings are made in the image and likeness of a loving God. We can all admit that all human beings are due the same dignity, honor, love, and grace that we would demand for ourselves. As we move down this path we just might find that we are like our enemy and our enemy is like us.

When this happens, rather than hate them more, we might love them more. We might end up “loving our neighbor who is like us.”

All of this begins with refusing to live in a world where we believe we are right and those who disagree are wrong. It begins with recognizing that each of us has beliefs, worldviews, opinions, and experiences that shape us. These things give each of us a unique viewpoint rooted in faith. But our viewpoint is only a view from a point. And the other's viewpoint is only a view from a point.

If we see things this way, we might begin to wake up to the fact that they are like us, and we are like them. Much of it is just a point of view.

love by any definition is not love

John, in his first letter says, “God is love.” Much has been made about this statement in theological circles. But there is one question that seems to be asked the most, "What is love?"

This is not the first time this question, or one like it has been asked. Many of us are familiar with the scene. Girl and boy meet and fall head over heals for each other. They cannot stop thinking or talking about each other to their friends. One of them eventually asks a wise person the age-old question, “How do you know when you are in love?”

The sage never responds quickly. Words seem to stumble out of the sage’s mouth, something to the effect, “Well … you will just know … you know?” But they do not know, because the wise person does not know, you know? (If you would like to see an example of this from 80’s cinema see the movie Sixteen Candles.)

There is a lot that can be said in response the question about falling in love. Some do not believe you fall in love, some say that love is not a feeling, others say love is a choice, and still there are some who contend love is an emotion. What most will agree on is this: love is real. Yet, as real as love is, it is something that seems to defy explanation. Maybe this is how it should be.

Many of us we have trouble staying in this place. We live in a world where people want to explain everything. We want to understand, define, or box in. Be warned. If someone can explain love then it is something, but it is probably not love. We live our lives according to dogmas, laws, and rationalism; all of which seek to define, simplify, and categorize everything.

Perhaps we ought not to apply our systematic ways of thinking to such things as love. Love seems to defy the contours of such thinking. Love was never meant to be understood or explained. It gives to us a mystery right here in the midst of our everyday lives.

We have a hard time living within mystery. We have lost wonder and awe is on life support. Maybe this is why there is such a shortage of love in this world. We have something that we believe we have nailed down, yet no one can seem to find it. The inability to grasp love is reflected in the enmity, exclusiveness, bigotry, judgmentalism, and “us-and-them” thinking that permeates our world. Rather than try to define love, we should spend our years becoming acquainted with it.

Which brings us back to John and his saying, “God is love.” Stanley Grenz said, "God is his essence is love." Perhaps we should spend more time getting to know God and being acquainted with God, rather than simply trying to explain him. I know many Christians that speak of a “personal relationship” with God, yet their relationship is built on doctrine, their knowledge is based on their ability to successfully defend their brand of belief, and their faith is nothing more than mental ascent.

This is not a relationship. How many of us base our marriages, familial relationships, or friendships on laws, doctrine, or dogma? Our best relationships are rooted in love for the other not on what we can explain about the person.

Imagine a Christianity that spoke of relationship with God built on love (which he is), a knowledge that reflected deep intimacy with Jesus, and faith that clung tenaciously to the person that God reveals himself to be, while at the same time letting go of our own agendas. Imagine a Christianity that basked in the mystery, awe, and wonder of God. Imagine a Christianity that did not draw boundaries of opposition or walls of defensiveness, but one that engaged all human beings with dignity, honor, and respect. Imagine a Christianity that was a source of reconciliation rather than division. Imagine a Christianity that was bent on peace rather than one that passively accepted violence as a "necessary evil."

As I imagine love - real, true love - this is what I imagine. This is not an attempt to define love, but an attempt to live within it and to know the God who is love more intimately. I suspect that if our world saw love lived out more and more we may stop trying to define it and simply start wanting more of it.

knowing from the outside

There are some people who can say an immense amount in one paragraph. Miroslav Volf is one of those people. I was reading the book, God’s Life in Trinity today, a book that he wrote a few years back, and came across a paragraph that is disturbing and comforting.

Many people who presume to have all the answers about God. It seems as though some believe that God can be pinned down and defined by a Systematic Theology, a Doctrine, a Four Point Forumla, or a Series of Classes.

If we are honest, most of us do this, or have been taught to do this one way or another. Many of us have been reared in a dualistic world, where what “we” believe is right and “everyone else” is wrong.

We live in a world where we can abandon faith for certainty because we have been fooled into thinking that the answers are plain. As Richard Rohr says, “For too many people no life journey is necessary because we think we already have all our answers at the beginning.”

But Volf, in one paragraph challenges this kind of thinking. For so many who sit believing they are right and everyone else is wrong, for the religious, irreligious, liberal, or conservative who believe that God was one of them, for those who think that God has joined them in their agenda or opinion … for all of us, consider these words from Volf:

"At the heart of the Gospel narratives is a controversy concerning the identity of Jesus Christ. In the Synoptic Gospels, those closest to Jesus regularly misidentify him. I have shown in previous work how the gospel of Matthew is structured around the distinction between disciples (the Greek word mathetes) and those who follow (the Greek word akolouthein and its variations). Often disciples are physically close in proximity to Jesus, yet they often misunderstand his words and actions. An epithet Jesus uses on the disciples on a number of occasions in the narrative “those of little faith.” The ones who most often recognize Jesus’ true identity are apparently minor characters in the stories: a leper, a Roman centurion, the Gadarene demoniac, a paralytic, a hemorrhaging woman, two blind men, a Canaanite woman, and the centurion at the foot of the cross. Within the passion narrative itself the only true followers, the ones who recognize Jesus’ mission and ministry must follow the road to the crucifixion, are Joseph of Aramithea and, most important, Jesus’ female followers. So the Gospels themselves witness to the fact that Jesus’ own idenity is most likely to be recognized by those who live on the boundaries, beyond the pale, and on the margins. These stories give no support to those who would assert that insiders have a unique and incorrigible grasp of the Gospels’ truth. On the contrary, those who are apparent outsiders recognize Jesus’ identity and thereby witness to the truth. Mutatis mutandis we should hardly be surprised if, in our own times, authentic witness to the truth comes not from those who are apparent insiders within Christianity, but precisely from those religious others who too often have been consigned a place beyond the pale of truth but may in fact be carriers of it."

the beauty and terror of silence

Silence is a beautiful thing. For some it is also terrifying. Spending a month away from the noise taught me a little about both.

The first few days of my time away from the noise was quite difficult. I would get into my car and immediately reach for the volume knob – then remember I had to turn it off, not up. I would pick up my phone to check the latest Twitter updates, and remember that I had deleted the Twitter app off my phone. I would look for email, grab the remote, pick up a book … and then remember that I was supposed to be turning these things off.

Amazingly enough, I considered myself to be someone who embraced silence quite well. Yet in just the first few days I saw how much noise I instinctively imported into my life. Email, TV, music, media, digital anything … it was all there all the time. The sad thing is that for most of us we cannot live without it.

The reason I say this is sad is because it has removed us not so much from connection with other people, but with connection from ourselves. There is a lyric in the song Perfect Blue Buildings by Counting Crows that says:

Gotta find me a little oblivion baby, Try to keep myself away from me

I think noise is our oblivion. Perhaps this is why silence is terrifying. For in it, we are left to the noise in our own hearts, minds, and souls. And trust me there is a lot there.

After the first few days of being fidgety, feeling anxious about email, and wondering if the Yankees won their 27^th World Series (and by the way they did win in six games over the Phillies – interestingly enough I did not get one single message from anyone about it – even all my friends who were rooting for the Phillies, the same ones who sent me messages before the Series saying the Yankees were going to lose).

Once the silence began to settle into my life, I began to hear more and listen better. It was refreshing to sit and read large sections of the Bible over the span of three or more hours. I felt pulled into the story and became enamored with it. And when I was done reading, I had nothing to distract me from what I had just read. I was able to sit, reflect, journal, pray, listen, contemplate – without competing with anything.

As the month wore on I realized how much time I had each day to just commune, in silence, with God. It was as though he and I left a noisy, crowded restaurant that played the music too loud, and went for a long walk through neighborhood streets late at night. Just him and me. And it was lovely.

Many have asked me, “Does it feel good to be back online.” My answer has been “No, it is painful.” For me it is like going to lunch with a person who keeps answering their cell phone and talking like you are not there – just constant interruption.

Many have asked, “What have you learned?” I suppose I am learning that we make ourselves busy, surround ourselves with noise, and try to be doing something all the time. In the end we end up serving the noise, rather than using certain technology to serve us.

Like, Pavlov’s dogs we instinctively react to all sorts of stimuli without thinking. We run to email, the television, Facebook, and everything else day after day. If we were to sit back and watch we might just begin to wonder who is controlling who. My bet is we might just see that the noise is controlling us, and most appear powerless to do anything. I believe the reality is that God is content not to compete with all of that. He will simply sit quietly and wait for us to finish our “one more email” or “make one last call.” The problem is that were are fooled into thinking that there is always more to do.

While we say there is more to do, at some level there is an arrogance wrapped up in that. It was amazing to me how people got along without having me nearby digitally. We make ourselves believe there is more to do all the time, but rarely do we stop and talk about what we have to be. Maybe if we stop doing so much we could enjoy ourselves and our being much more.

I think that if we contextualized 1 Kings 19 today we might say, “There was 1,000 emails in a week, but God was not in the emails. There were 47 friend requests on Facebook, but God was not in the 47 friends requests. There was a Bonus offer on digital cable, but God was not in the Bonus offer on digital cable. After all of this came a gentle whisper.”

How can we hear the gentle whisper? If only we are quiet and still enough to hear it.

I encourage any who read this to simply take one day (surely you can do this, and if you cannot get some help) to shut everything (email, music, TV, etc.) down. Turn it off. In this one day ask yourself how much time you are giving over to the noise. You may just begin to see that it is the noise that determines and directs our days and weeks (which eventually turn into our lives) much more than the gentle whisper.

a fast from the noise

Just last week we had some people working on our roof at our church’s building. Outside my window was an air compressor for their nail guns. It ran all day, non-stop. I read, emailed, met with a few people, and lived with the noise all day long. Finally, just after 5 PM the compressor shut off. It was then I realized how I had become used to the noise. I had functioned in it all day long. It was only when it was shut off that I realized how distracting the compressor was.

In that moment I had an idea. What if I shut the noise out of my life for a time? The reality is that we live in a world filled with noise. Everywhere. All the time. Noise.

As I write this, I am sitting in my office in the building where our church gathers. No one is here but me, which may lead some to believe that it is quiet. But this is not true. The truth is that noise is all around us all the time. Non-stop. If you do not believe me, stop right now, and listen. It is there. A constant drone. And it is not just the noise that you can hear with your ears.

There is the noise of email, Twitter, Facebook, IM-ing, and the constant bombardment of commercial advertising (conservative estimates say that the average American is confronted by over 2,000 slogans and corporate logos each day), and the list goes on and on. It is always there, like an air compressor outside our office window. The more I have become aware of this noise the more I have longed for silence.

When the noise fades there is suddenly space for a lot of other things. Things that have been drowned out by the noise that are more scared and beautiful than all the noise itself. We create space to listen to our own hearts and our own thoughts. We open up time to actually speak to another human being rather than leaving it up to our status update or email. Most importantly we can become more attentive to hearing the still, small voice of God speaking to us, nourishing our hearts and souls.

These thoughts have been rolling around in my head for over a month along with the question, “Is it even possible to notice how loud and annoying our world is until we shut it off?” Through this I have spoken with some friends, sought the counsel of our church leadership, and listened to their hearts. In all of this I have decided to take a fast from the noise – at least the noise I can control.

For the month of November (beginning Sunday, November 1) I will be off email, my blog, Twitter, Facebook, all televison, all radio, and all media (magazine, newspaper, online news sources).

To supplement the noise and the time I spend each day dedicated to email and blogging I am going to replace that time with prayer and meditation. Praying that I will be more absorbed into communion with God.

To supplement the time I spend in the evenings watching playoff baseball or The Office, I am going to spend time reading through the Bible, at least once. It has been a couple of years since I read straight through the Bible, and so I am going to begin November 1 and read through it as many times as I am able.

My hope is that as I turn down the volume on the noise in this world, I will turn up the volume increasingly on the voice of God as he speaks to my heart and soul. Henri Nouwen writes, “In a world that victimizes us by its compulsions (and noise), we are called to a solitude where we can (turn down the volume of our world) and struggle against our anger and greed and let our new self be born in the loving encounter with Jesus Christ.” (Italics Mine).

And so it is that I turn off the air compressors in my world and bask in the solitude of silence.