Is Your Church Becoming New Age?

In his book Reason, Faith, and Revolution, Terry Eagleton makes the following critique of the new age movement; "It offers a refuge from the world, not a mission to transform it."


A church that isn't on mission isn't a church and has nothing to offer that isn't being offered already.

The Healing of Habits

I've always thought that "ritual" was a silly critique and that "habit" gets a bad rap, particularly when it comes to faith. I understand that empty ritual and meaningless habits are to be avoided, but ritual doesn't equal empty and meaningless and habit and not necessarily synonymous.

That has been particularly true during these past 5 days. As someone who has committed to a communal way of life that includes daily prayer and reading of scripture, weekly worship and house church gatherings, and regular practices of hospitality and service, I have seen why that commitment is a blessing even when (maybe especially when) I'm not feeling up for it or into it. Many times this week I have found myself not wanting to pray or meditate on the Bible. I certainly didn't want to worship on Wednesday and am not feeling all that excited about house church on Sunday. And yet, Wednesday's worship was just what I needed* and my habit of prayer and meditation has been just what I needed to steady me as my emotions are in an almost constant state of flux.

All that to say, I can see, now more than ever, the benefit of doing something out of habit, simply because you know it to be a good thing and not because you necessarily feel like doing it. If our habits are godly habits, then they should not be viewed as burdens, but as potential for blessing.

*that said, I do wish it were someone else's job to preach and plan for a couple of weeks

The Sound of Silence

It's a strange feeling to want desperately to draw comfort from the presence of others and yet to want to sit in silence. I'm realizing just how important funerals are, for just that reason. I find myself wanting to gather my friends and family in a room together to sit in silence; to acknowledge with our silence that something is wrong that can't be fixed with words.

I'm Fine

My first day back to work since the miscarriage. It was rough, but good to be among friends that feel like family.

The hardest part was having to answer the question, "how are you?" With co-workers, I can be honest, and it was a blessing to be able to be. But, with customers, there's no appropriate way to be honest, so I just ended up saying, "I'm fine, and you?" Usually, this is an honest and heartfelt response, but today it felt empty and dull. It wore me out to have to keep it up. But how do you tell a stranger who's barely listening for a response that it's been a really rough week?

So, for those of you who read this blog, give someone a gift this week; ask them how they're doing and listen long enough and attentively enough to find out the answer. You have no idea how much it means.

Thanks to all of those at work for asking attentively. I'm blessed to have you in my life.

Life Goes On

Today has had its share of lighter moments. After which (and in the midst of) I find myself feeling bad about feeling better.

As my baby's life doesn't go on, it feels wrong and strange that mine should.

Life goes on. That's not usually something that I have mixed feelings about.

I feel like life should pause for awhile. Long enough for me to get into bed and not come out for awhile.

But there's people that need me to get out of bed. And that's a good thing, I guess.

Life goes on.

Sorry For Being Sad

Putting Harry to bed tonight, I told him that I was sorry for being so sad the past couple of days.


"Oh dad," he said, "you don't ever have to be sorry for being sad."


It was a good reminder. I am grateful for it.

Drunk

I've never been drunk.


I don't share that self-righteously, I've just never seen the appeal. Maybe I've been around too many people when they were drunk or heard their next day apologies and regrets.


But, for the last two days, I've seen the appeal. I want to get drunk. I want to drink until I'm not feeling what I'm feeling, until I can forget the last two days, my pain, and my name.


Now I know that Marx would say that religion is its own opiate and that many of you would agree, but it's Jesus that has kept me sober. Jesus whose example shows that reality is better dealt with than avoided. That our plans for escaping the difficult stuff are what really lead to our destruction. 


So, I woke up today and will wake up tomorrow and will face reality, with all its confusion and pain.


But don't be too impressed. Because it's only by Christ's example and Christ's strength that I do it.


Because it's 11:36 and my brain won't rest and there's a bottle of sipping whiskey in the cupboard.


And I really just want to get drunk.

He Made Me Hope Again

Working through a lot of pain and frustration with Rachel today. Was struck when she said, "I had resolved myself to the fact that another child wasn't a part of God's plan for us. And I really was OK. And then...He made me hope again. And now that's just really hard."


I agree. Why get our hopes up? Help me understand.


Our doctor, who really is great, frustrated me today when she said, "The good news here is we know you can get pregnant when we didn't think you could."


I needed her not to say that. I needed her to recognize that there was no good news here.

God Is Good...All The Time?

This is a different sort of blogpost in that I feel the need to spill my guts more than share my thoughts. I tend to think my posts through a bit more, but I need to get this one out.


I also hate that it requires some back story explanation, because I barely feel up to that. What I want to do is shout angrily from my front porch, but this will have to suffice.


3 years ago, Rachel and I decided to try for baby #2, Harry's little brother or sister. Given how easy it had been to conceive Harry, we felt confident it would go as smoothly a second time. It did not. Months passed. A year. And, finally, Rachel's doctor said she doubted that Rachel would ever get pregnant again.


Rachel and I had always said that we would pursue adoption, should something like this situation arise, and took this as a sign that adoption was in our future. We were discouraged to discover that adoption was far more expensive than we had anticipated and, given that our church-planting efforts had meant less money every month and not more, adoption seemed less and less likely a reality.


Through all of this, we prayed. Prayed to know God's will for us, prayed for God to make a way where there seemed to be no way.


And then, 3 weeks ago, we discovered that Rachel was 6 weeks pregnant. We were ecstatic, overjoyed, elated. We celebrated with our friends and talked with our church and with our son about the way in which God can still work miracles and does. The last 3 weeks, we have been walking on air. Just this past week, our church has been studying the last part of the book of James and prayers offered in faith.


Then, last night, Rachel began to have some bleeding. And I started offering prayers in faith. We made an appointment with her doctor for this morning. The sonogram revealed that our baby no longer had a heartbeat.


We are devastated. I know we're not the first people to experience a miscarriage and that many people, some of you who will read this blog, have experienced much worse. Still, we are devastated. We are angry. We are hurt. We are confused. And James 5 reads like a bad joke.


And yet, there's something else that I really need to get out. Within minutes of receiving the news, I felt this compulsion, almost as strong as a voice in my head, to acknowledge, out loud, that God is good.


I ignored it. Screw Him, I wouldn't give Him the satisfaction. But it persisted. A basic knowledge of what is true and a need to express it, despite the circumstances. Hours later, about 10 minutes ago, I broke down and did it.


At church we grew up saying to one another, "God is good...all the time. And all the time...God is good." And I believe it as strongly today as I have any day of my life. But, in some ways, that just makes it worse. That just makes this hurt more.


The subject of this post asks a question, but I know the answer; God is good.  Today, that is making me angry and confused. And, I guess, I'll just have to sit with that and think and feel and pray my way through it. But I also had to stop and acknowledge, publicly, that God is good, even if, today, that leaves me with as many questions as it does answers.


Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.