Three Cheers for Modernism?

Eyes of a new generation.

I'm feeling a bit cheeky, so readers beware!

I've been hearing quite a few sermons lately that have been extolling the virtues of modernism. For those of you who may not be familiar with what modernism is or the controversy surrounding postmodernism, I'd like to invite you out from underneath your rock to check it out for yourself.

Wikipedia describes modernism as "a trend of thought that affirms the power of human beings to create, improve, and reshape their environment, with the aid of scientific knowledge, technology, or practical experimentation." However, most people might find it difficult to come up with a concrete definition of modernism (ironically). Modernism challenged the previous order of thinking and encouraged us to take another look at every aspect of life, knowledge, and even our faith. Modernism celebrates human achievement.

Human achievement.

Shall I extol the virtues of human achievement the modernist era brought us? There's facism, naziism, communism, individualism, and consumerism. There's the world wars, the other wars, nuclear war, and other "advances" in warfare. There's the birth of Darwin's "Origin" in 1859 which gained widespread acceptance by the 1930's. There's the loss of community as people fled rural America for artificial communities called the suburbs. And then there's modernistic spirituality which seems so "mega".

I hear a lot of people complaining about postmodernism (which has its own flaws), but was modernism really all that great?

I suppose the biggest Christian argument I hear about how wonderful modernism is comes in regards to the concept of "absolute truth". Apparently, postmodern thinkers don't believe in absolute truth and the moderns in our midst do. In true modern fashion, I'm going to have to question that line of reasoning (yes...questioning established orders of thinking is indeed a modern thing). People have been asking questions about and doubting truth for a long time. The absence of belief in absolute truth is not a postmodern invention.

For the sake of discussion, let me pose a truly postmodern question: what good is it to claim you possess absolute truth but not love your neighbor? Postmodern thinkers wonder what is so good about absolute truth if you don't live the truth the One you follow teaches you about. I've gotta say...that's a darn good question! There are a lot of people who wonder why such enlightened folks could produce the holocaust, genocide, and segregation.

What good is believing in the inerrancy of the Scriptures if we don't do what the bible says? There is no point, in my opinion.

There are hosts of people who reject the idea of truth as being a mere intellectual exercise. I have to admit, my agreement with this postmodern line of thought makes me sympathetic to their way of thinking. Yes, I am a postmodern sympathizer. I do not, however, have any interest in defending one ism over another. There are no shortage of criticisms of postmodernism, including the charges that it is divisive, arrogant, biblically illiterate and immoral. Oh...and heretical.

Those same charges have been launched at every new, emerging age. The Pharisees launched them at Jesus, the Jerusalem believers launched them at Paul, the medieval church launched them at the reformers, and the colonialsists launched them at the modernists. It seems that every new era emerged from the ashes of the martyrs. I'm convinced most of us see the older way as being the better way, which is why I am sure that postmodern thought is no more evil or heretical than the modernism that gave birth to it. It is probably equally as evil and heretical!

There have been great human achievements but none can match the achievement of the Holy Spirit to work in and through each new generation. To me, most of this postmodernism controversy is little more than another culture war to maintain influence and power, and I do not want to be drafted into it. I prefer to call it what it is and instead celebrate the continuity of the presence of God at work among the people he loves. We will continue to mess things up and get things wrong, but the gracious ministry of the Holy Spirit marches through time.

His church continues despite ourselves.

Micah 6:8

Ethereal

Ethereal = light, airy, and tenuous

I ask the following question of my students at the beginning of each new term: "Do you believe what people say or do you believe what people do?" The consensus with my street savvy students is always unanimous: they believe what people do. I ask this question because I teach a curriculum that gives them skills for life, teaches them anger management and conflict resolution, and requires respect. I know I cannot expect them to put things into practice if it is not modeled for them by their teacher. Demonstrating these skills and respecting each student goes a lot further than abstract principles.

I've been having a discussion with a friend about abstract verses concrete love. We both agree that love often gets spoken of in theory without being put into practice. I think people know when they are being handed vaporous love that seems to dissipate into the air. Love is not ethereal, and it is certainly not a notion of sentiment or affinity. It is, instead, a tangible, practical, concrete, earthy thing that is expressed in the way we live towards others. The difference between being told "i love you" and actually being loved are as night and day.

We can call our sentiment "love", but it isn't believable until it is experienced. When Jesus tells us to love the Father or to love our neighbors, it means something more than possessing nice thoughts about them or practicing benign avoidance. Authentic love calls us out of ourselves and is demonstrated in how we live towards others.

"This is how we know what real love is: Jesus gave his life for us. So we should give our lives for our brothers and sisters. Suppose someone has enough to live and sees a brother or sister in need, but does not help. Then God's love is not living in that person. My children, we should love people not only with words and talk, but by our actions and true caring" (1 John 3:16-18).

Words by themselves are unbelievable. Even the words of the gospels would be unbelievable if it weren't for the concrete love of God demonstrated by the Living Word at the cross!

Living Words.

Genuine love is love incarnated...in the flesh...in us. This love moves us beyond our judgments of others. This love causes us to reject using Scripture to destroy others. This love teaches us to engage and not avoid involvement in other people's lives. This love causes us to collaborate with Christ. This love moves us into the will of God.

Words are cheap. Love isn't.

"Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God" (1 John 4:7).

Bit

Carnivore

I got bit by a squirrel the other day. I'm not bitter, though, since his bite wasn't premeditated. It was my own fault. I've been feeding this squirrel for months off and on, and it was bound to happen eventually. I know I'm not supposed to feed wildlife, but I couldn't help feeding this cute little fella. Frequently, he would approach me when I was outside and be lured close by peanuts. I had him eating out of my hand. As he mistook my index finger for a brazil nut, I was reminded that I was no St. Francis of Assisi.

The thing is, you would think I'd learn my lesson and keep my distance. Even with the images of carnage still playing over in my head, I fed him again recently. I guess the thrill of close encounters with creation overrides my instinct to keep clear of my little ravenous rodent.

I've been bit before (metaphorically speaking), as I'm sure many of us have. The scenario plays out the same: you try to help someone, they come closer, and then they bite you. Many of us have felt the sting from trying to help someone out. Often, it leaves us in a bit of confusion and causes us to think twice about doing it the next time. I've learned from my farmer friends that getting stepped on, kicked, bit, and smelling like shtuff comes with the job. You can expect it to happen, even when you take precautions. No matter how much you feed and care for the mule, given the chance, it will bite. Getting stung by people is to be expected; it goes with the territory. That's not a cynical statement but a practical one.

I love the story of the Good Samaritan. As Jesus tells it, there was a man who was attacked and left for dead along side a road. A couple religious people walked by but didn't stop to help. The Samaritan did -- and it cost him. He was moved by compassion -- not duty, obligation or personal satisfaction. Helping this wounded man interrupted his plans and cost him time, effort and money. He couldn't just pass by. Something within him wouldn't let him pass on by.

Jesus doesn't tell us why the religious people didn't stop. He left it to us to come up with our own assumptions. Admittedly, we don't think very highly of these two who walked on by. I wonder if they had helped people before and been burned? I wonder if they had been taken advantage of or had been hurt while trying to help in the past. I wonder if they had become cynical and suspicious because of previous experiences. Whatever their reasons might have been, we know that they just walked on by.

When I was learning to ride a bike, I fell off a few times and still have the scars on my knees to tell the story. My mom would put a bandage on my knee and tell me to go and try again. She probably knew that if I let my failure and pain stop me from trying again, it would be quite a while before I would learn how to ride a bike.

I don't want to diminish the sting that some of us have felt from helping others. It's legitimate pain. I feel the same sort of pain when a student that I have invested in makes foolish choices that ends up costing them or when helping someone comes around to bite me in the butt. The reality is that people are messy. We're not called to have mercy because it feels good or is good karma. We are called to have mercy because Jesus is merciful. We risk the bite in order to live in that place Jesus lived.

I think Jesus understood very well the cost of unappreciated mercy. He anticipated the sting before it was delivered but his love and mercy compelled him anyhow. I would love to be able to live with that kind of determined, selfless love. Someday, perhaps.

If I've given because Someone has moved my heart to give, what happens next isn't my responsibility. I do believe in being good stewards, but I don't think mercy can be dispensed according to solid accounting principles. We must remember that it is not ourselves that receives the return on the investment.

"In the final foolishness of love, Jesus freely accepts death on the cross"(Brennan Manning, The Importance of Being Foolish).

Made Me Chuckle...

God so loved the world that he gave us Jesus, ice cream, chili, and fish curds.

(Frisco, Colorado)

A Franciscan Blessing

May God bless you with discomfort...

at easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships,

so that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger...

at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people

so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless you with tears...

to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war,

so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness...

to believe you can make a difference in their world,

so that you can do what others claim cannot be done

to bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

Amen.

Along the Way

Nevada 140 somewhere between Winnemucca and Oregon.

I have always been attracted to the journey. Some of my earliest memories involve a Volkswagon Bus and road trips with my older brother. I couldn't have been more than five years old when he started taking me on the road and I caught my first glimpses of America. I began to learn about other places when I was young, and I am still a bit of a wayfarer today. I learned it from my older brother, the traveling fool.

The way I see it, there's something really good to be found for a man on the open road. I believe we learn a great deal about ourselves and how things are when we are removed from our familiar surroundings. That's one of many reasons why I love taking youth on trips outside their own culture. We learn that the rest of the world is not like us. Our senses get awakened, we learn to adapt to others -- making us less about ourselves -- and our spirit's come alive as we see the presence of God everywhere we go.

I used to tell our visiting mission teams in Ireland that "it is not unlike the Lord to bring you thousands of miles just to do a work in you". Almost without exception, he did. Most of our visiting students had encounters with grace and community, purpose and people like they had never experienced before. This had little to do with us and more to do with an awareness that was made to these things that already existed. They were simply in a position open to receive because their senses were alive. After all, the Father is just as present on their college campuses as he is in rural Ireland.

For a country whose history was written by the explorer, the revolutionary, the pioneer, and the inventor -- all travelers of sorts -- we are certainly conditioned to "settle down" and "root". I am aware that there are many nomads who are isolated in their meandering to find themselves or get lost, but I do not believe that all who wonder are lost. There is a tremendous difference between the detached nomad and the pilgrim whose journey seems filled with purpose. While the nomad may be running away, the pioneer and pilgrim is on a journey of discovery. America's pioneers understood "why" they were going, even if they didn't know exactly "where".

Sometimes blessing comes from leaving home. Abraham was told to leave his Father's household eventhough he didn't know where he was going. Even the disciples of Christ left home, father, and the family business to follow a homeless man. No one would argue that their journey was without purpose. From Genesis to the New Testament, the biblical narrative tells the story of the people of God on the move.

There is a remarkable little promise Jesus made to his followers in Matthew 18:20. He said, "Where two or three come together in my name, there I am with them." Equally ground-breaking is the precious encounter Jesus had with a Samaritan woman in John 4 when he said to her, "Believe me woman, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain" (referring to the Samaritan holy place) "or in Jerusalem" (referring to the Temple). Both of these statements of Jesus were quite revolutionary. The Jewish people were a people connected to place -- the Temple -- and they had a hard time worshipping God when they were not in that place.

Something dramatically changed when the curtain of the Temple was torn in two upon Jesus's crucifixion. No longer was the presence of God tied to a place. We find our home with him wherever we go along the way. In fact, followers of Christ were known as The Way before they were commonly called Christians. Today, we often think of our church buildings as places to meet with God, and millions do. We have been taught to expect to meet with God in these places, but we must remember that the Spirit of God is not bound by bricks and morter. His presence can be found in the coffee house, the church house, and in my house.

All too often, we legitimize churches because of their building (their place). Why do forget that our legitimacy comes from Jesus, and he is present with us "as we go"? I recently read an author who said that a church filled with God's Spirit is never allowed to settle down. Settling down seems attractive, safe, and right to us -- and it is certainly easier to control. I'm just not so convinced that following Christ was ever meant to be confined to a place. We are the living Body of the living Christ, and just as the Father would not allow himself to be contained by Temple walls, neither should we be. He has determined for his grace and mercy to move across the world on the backs of his traveling fools.

The work of God -- nor the worship of God -- should or can be contained by a building. There must be a fluid movement -- in and out of our buildings -- of the people who love God. As for the wayfarers in our midst? Don't discount their journey. They may be on to something very close to the heart of God!

Compelled

10,000

Now I realize that reaching 10,000 hits is small time in the blogging world, but it's a milestone nonetheless -- and one I am happy to be reaching. I know that many of you started with us while we were still in Ireland and still check in from time to time out of interest in us or simple curiosity about some of the things I write about. I would like to know who you are. So...if you have the time and interest, I would enjoy hearing from you by having you leave some feedback on this article. Tell us a bit about yourself and why you check THE WAYFARER from time to time. You can leave your comments by clicking on "Comments" under this article. We appreciate those who check in on us.

Narcissus

Narcissus

In Greek mythology, the story of Narcissus is told about a hero from Thespia who was known for his beauty. He was the son of the nymph Liriope and the river god Cephisus. For purposes of modesty, we will stick with the Roman version of the story told by Ovid since it leaves out the details of Narcissus being sexually attracted to his sister...

As the story goes, Narcissus had been on a lifelong journey looking for love but never seemed to find it. One day, while hunting in the woods, he became thirsty and went to take a drink from a stream. When he saw his reflection in the water, he fell in love with it, not realizing that the reflection belonged to him. He bent down to kiss the reflection, but as he did, it disappeared. He was broken-hearted as love eluded him once again. His thirst grew more intense, but he was afraid to touch the water because he didn't want the reflection to disappear. As the legend goes, he died of thirst and self-infatuation as he stared at his own reflection.

When Narcissus was an infant, his mother, concerned for her son's future, consulted a prophet named Teiresias who told her that Narcissus "would live to a ripe old age, as long as he never knew himself." As it turned out, it was his self-infatuation that cut his life short.

I'm not the type of person who draws his belief from mythology and legend, but I do appreciate how these stories were told within the context of their own culture to explain the human condition. I find the story of Narcissus to be particularly relevant for the times -- and relevant for the church as well. We use the term "narcissism" loosely today to describe the traits of self-love, vanity, conceit, egotism, or even selfishness. It is probably more accurate to say that narcissism is excessive self-love based on one's self-image or ego.

The lesson from Narcissus is clear: self-infatuation is deadly.

We live in a society that tells us our happiness comes from improving ourselves. The marketing kicks in to convince us that the key to happiness is found in everything we don't yet have (from rock-hard abs to rock-star possessions). "If I could only make my life better, I would be happier." Isn't it interesting how as our gaze turns inward, happiness seems more and more elusive? With the number of self-help gurus on the rise and the amount of stuff we now possess, you'd think we would be the hap-hap-happiest people on the planet!

And there is no shortage of these self-help gurus floating about in the church, either. With their mantras of "the Lord wants you to be blessed", you would think that the only thing that matters to the Lord is my personal prosperity and comfort. This is a hard message for followers of Christ to reconcile with a world infested by poverty, brokenness, and war. Apparently, it's only a message that we can afford! With any number of churches concerned only with their existence and the improvement of their existence, it would seem that we, too, may be paying too much attention to our image in the River Styx*.

I say "we" because I realize I am not too different from what bothers me (perhaps that's why it bothers me so much!). After all, I can be deeply torn between the pursuits of my own needs/wants verses a very different life in the Kingdom of God. I am certain there is no life to be found in the pursuit of self, so I am not sure why I keep pursuing it as often as I do. We do, after all, follow the one who seemed to tell us that if we want to find our life, we must lose it. His message of self-sacrificing love is the antithesis of narcissism.

We might be narcissistic when we are concerned more with our "image" rather than the authentic work of his grace. We might be narcissistic when we are concerned more with ourselves or our church than with his call to serve others. We might be narcissistic when we concern ourselves more with our own well-being rather than the well-being of those around us who are in need. The life Jesus promises can escape us when we obsess over our individualistic or corportate selves.

Thirsty, anyone? Don't be afraid to shatter that image being reflected back at you. "Whoever drinks from the water I give him will never thirst again" (Jesus in John 4:14).

*According to legend, Narcissus still keeps gazing on his image in the waters of the River Styx, the mystical river that separates Earth from Hades.

Conduit

Respectable Sin

* * *

I'm going to toss around a word from time to time in this article that I don't often use. That word? Abomination. I looked up the word recently and saw it defined as "anything abominable; anything greatly disliked or abhorred; intense aversion or loathing". I can't say that I have many opportunities to throw such a strong word into conversation. It is, however, a word that gets thrown around quite a bit in some Christian circles -- thrown at, more likely -- usually aimed at whatever lepers have been created in our heads.

Isn't it interesting how we use the word abomination to describe someone else's sin? Most of us would never think of attaching that word to our own sin habits. After all, our sin is -- well -- more respectable, acceptable, and tolerable. Turns out that word "respectable" means "of good social standing". We tend to think of our own sin as "respectable" because our sin is more socially acceptable. We've done a terrific job of hiding our vile stuff...maybe even the stuff that turns God's stomach.

In Revelation 3:16, the word that sticks out to me is usually translated as "spit". Although spit carries with it crude connotations for some, a more accurate translation might be "spew" or "vomit". Apparently, it leaves a bad taste in God's mouth when we are blinded to our own depraved nature and need for him. For some of us, we think "we don't need a thing", and we may assume that we've got our spiritual act together. At a minimum, we're glad that our sin isn't as bad as theirs.

On several occasions, I have had the opportunity to visit Trim Castle in Ireland. Film buffs will recognize Trim as the setting for much of the blockbuster movie "Braveheart". One on tour, I recall our guide telling an interesting story about a peculiar English noble habit at the castle. The English lord wanted to communicate English superiority in every way over the native Irish. There was a fella whose job was "The Keeper of the Dung". Every day, he would collect the feces of the nobles and smear it on the outside of the white castle walls. English poo was darker than Irish poo because of the richness of their diet...and thus, their superiority. It was a way of saying to the Irish peasants, "Even our crap is better than your crap." It's a barbaric fact of history. Thank God we're above that, right?

"My sin is better than your sin." "My crap is better than your crap." Poo is poo and sin is sin.

When we live under this air of superiority and are ignorant to what stinks about ourselves, we, in essence, are taking on the role of the "Keeper of the Dung" as we display what we feel is respectable and superior. We fail to miss how barbaric this act really is. Certain sins are an abomination, but our greed and our gluttony and our judgment are much more acceptable. Truth is...all sin is an abomination, and there can be no blurring of the lines between acceptable and detestable sins.

And there can be no mistaking the need for God's grace...

Religious sin certainly seems like an "abomination" to Jesus. In fact, all sin -- particularly the consequences of it -- was detested by Jesus. He, however, was driven by love to self-sacrifice and not by hate to condemnation! Shouldn't we be following his example rather than playing this game of "who's in and who's out"? I have a feeling we are more comfortable with lists and records than the Father is, and we are probably a whole lot more comfortable with our own "acceptable sin" than he is! I am certain that the only thing I have to boast or brag about is the love of God found in Jesus! I may look clean on the outside, but if you step closer, you'll get a whiff of reality!

The Good News isn't my goodness -- or yours! The Good News is his goodness! Any acceptability we possess comes from Jesus, so I'm not going to spend any time spreading my superior crap on the wall. The love of God changes the way I think about myself, and it certainly changes the way I think of others.

Our Best Laid Plans...

Somewhere we didn't want to be...

Two-thousand and eight certainly ended as unpredicable as it began for the Ray family. We spent some time with the in-laws over Christmas, driving nearly 22 hours one-way to be with the family. Our journey to Oregon was fairly uneventful, but almost everything that followed certainly was not. We woke Christmas morning at 6:00 a.m. to the blaring fire alarm in our hotel. Unshowered and bedraggled, we threw on our clothes, grabbed our camera, and headed for the parking lot. As the fire trucks rolled in and the smoke rolled out, we resigned ourselves to our dishevelled state and headed to my mother-in-laws for the day.

Our return journey to Colorado should have taken us just under 22 hours but ended up taking three days due to wave after wave of western snow and road closures. As we settled into a Super 8 in La Grande, Oregon and ate our survival food from McDonald's, I again had to resign myself to what was beyond my control. I needed to be at work Monday morning, but there was little I could do about it. Once the pass opened around 2:00 a.m., we made a break for it but had to encounter four more intense snow storms before arriving safely at our door in Denver. Throughout the whole journey, I was reminded about how seldom things are under our control.

If there's anything 2008 taught us, it's that the plans we make are subject to something or Someone else. We knew that '08 would be a year of transition and upheaval, and it has certainly been that. A year ago, we were beginning to pack up our home in Ireland and prepare ourselves for re-entry to the United States. We were facing the reality of good-byes and farewells, uncertain of what was ahead of us. Our best laid plans included Ireland, but those plans were obviously altered.

I was speaking to a woman in line at a department store in Roseburg, Oregon on Christmas eve day. The lines were massive, and I only had one item to purchase. She kindly offered to have me go ahead of her in line. I thanked her and said that I wasn't in a hurry. As she began to unload her cart onto the check out counter, she turned to me and said, "How come you are so patient and calm when everyone else in this place is in so much of a hurry?" I simply told her that I made up my mind before going into the store that I wouldn't be stressed. I resigned myself ahead of time to the inevitable delay.

Over the weekend, I headed to the mountains with one of our former interns who was visiting us from Indiana. We were driving through the northern Colorado Rockies when I saw a National Forest road that appeared to be plowed, so I took it in anticipation of finding some wildlife. All was going well until I got stuck in a snow bank and soon realized that my four-wheel drive wasn't going to be enough to get us out. All we had was a snow brush to dig with, so we spent the next couple of hours trying to unlodge my truck. Since we went off the road, the frame of the truck was resting on compacted snow, preventing my wheels from getting full traction. I resigned myself to the fact that we had to dig out the snow from underneath the frame of the truck (with a snow brush) and that we were going to get wet, cold, and tired. Did I mention it was 0 degrees, the sun was setting, and we had no cell phone coverage?

Resigned. Chuck it in. Give up. Abdicate my throne. Relinquish. Stand down. Surrender.

The word carries with it negative connotations, but there's an aspect of surrender and resignation that I have come to appreciate. I guess I would rather appreciate it than have it forced upon me! At some point in time, we all come to the end of what we can do, but in that place, it's good to know that there is something else of the Father's work that is on-going. Perhaps there's another purpose.

When I resigned myself to my dishevelled state on Christmas, I enjoyed a conversation with my sister-in-law that I might not otherwise have had. When I resigned myself to the weather and road conditions, I was able to enjoy the extra time I had to be with my wife. When I resigned myself to our international move, I was able to reflect back on our years in Ireland with gratitude and enjoy the new young people in Colorado that the Lord has brought into our lives. When I resigned myself to the crowds in the department store, I was able to enjoy a few moments of meaningful interaction with a stranger. When I resigned myself to digging out my truck with a snow brush, I could enjoy the memory that was being made with my friend.

I'm not sure what '09 has for us, but I don't think I'll be making plans anytime soon. For now, I want to appreciate the place we find ourselves in. I might dream a little too.

Happy New Year!