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Not a bad time of year for all of us to think about what is between us and living as Christ lived.
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Not a bad time of year for all of us to think about what is between us and living as Christ lived.
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I know that this time of year brings a glut of how to's and what to's regarding 2008 handing the baton to 2009. I tend not to involve myself with resolutions and reflections at this time of year for two reasons. The first is sheer self-preservation. My forced "this is the time of year you make resolutions" resolutions never actually manifest into sustained transformational change. This is likely because they tend to be generated based upon my best (often self-centered) thinking rather than a deeper leading.
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Tonight is Christmas Eve and I find myself facing the first Christmas in recent memory, maybe ever, that I wish was over before it began. I'm not bah humbug, nor am I falling apart sad. I am just not feeling it. Not interested. Indifferent. Part of it has to do with the loss of both of my parents this year. Those of you who may have read my piece on Stages of Grief know that they died at ages 67 and 65 within 20 days of one another in April. He from a stroke and she from cancer. Loss and Christmas can be difficult to reconcile. Part of it has to do with watching one of my children struggle with the first sober Christmas and all that entails for the addict that is turning their life around. I remember that feeling from my first sober Christmas a number of years ago and I wish this child well. Sobriety, depression and Christmas can be difficult to reconcile.
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I’ve been trying to write a follow-up blog post about my trip to The Great Emergence event in Memphis since I returned to New York last week. This should have been a no-brainer, really. The event was well produced in a stunningly beautiful Episcopal cathedral. Author and keynote speaker Phyllis Tickle delivered her thought-provoking thesis about the unfolding of a new Christian reformation with a perfect balance of humility, humor and passion. The more than 300 attendees were engaged and friendly and I was able to connect with a handful of people with whom I look forward to keeping in touch. I even had the opportunity to sample some down-home Memphis cooking on Beale Street with some new friends. All in all, this should be a simple and stellar review. But… This is the point at which each of my attempts to capture the event derailed. In the midst of it all, there was—something—that gave me pause. I’ve spent the past week trying to put my finger on it. I even reached out to the organizers of the event to see if I could gain some clarity. And yet, while they were responsive, I’m left with a mixed reaction that I am finding difficult to articulate. When a couple of people who generously follow my blog asked when I might write a follow up, I told them the same thing. This conversation is important, I said. It tends to create more debate than dialog outside of the folks that embrace and follow it. I want to take care before I write to be sure that I am part of the dialog, not adding to the he-said-she-said noise and contributing to what appears to be a growing dis-unity between those who embrace a new vision for the church and those who view it as everything from irresponsible to heretical.” So I decided not to force it. To wait and write nothing unless I felt prompted by the Holy Spirit to do so. On Saturday morning, my intention to work on my manuscript for an hour or two before heading over to help set up the room for my son’s Christmas play was thwarted by a familiar compulsion. So I closed my computer and pulled out a small black leather Bible that I opened without intention to the first page of the book of Ecclesiastes. As I began to read, I knew there was something there for me. Something relevant to my struggle to understand my place in this conversation and, ultimately, my place in this disparate Body of Christ. Then, as I read, it hit me. This one-two punch that came in the form of a deeper understanding of meaninglessness and what the author of the book repeatedly calls "chasing the wind." Phyllis Tickle may be right. We may be in the midst of a dramatic shift away from Sola Scriptura toward a more Christ or Spirit-centered expression of faith. Then again, those that would call her a heretic or an apostate may be right. Sola Scriptura may, indeed, be the way and this new movement may not be of God at all. And, I suppose, it is quite possible that those who embrace the Catholic faith might say that both camps are wrong and have been for 500 years. Which brings me back Ecclesiastes. There is nothing new under the sun. God is on His throne. We are broken people. Some of us seek this God and attempt to do what we perceive to be pleasing to Him. Others like me don’t seek, but get found anyway. Revolutions and reformations come and go. The sun rises and sets on Christians and non-Christians alike. So we eat and drink and, if we are blessed, enjoy our families, our work and our lives. Wisdom is better than folly, but ultimately we (and our ideas, books, podcasts and blog posts) are miniscule when compared to Creator of all things. Big questions have big answers that we can wrestle with to our hearts content. In fact, I believe that the pursuit of a deeper understanding is likely pleasing to God. But if we set out to know it all or have a hand in the big change that will finally get it all “right” we are, as the author of Ecclesiastes says, just chasing the wind. So I choose to follow the author’s suggestion to fear God and follow His commandments. Simple advice that I read as a call to love God with reverential awe and love God’s creation sacrificially. At least it’s a start.
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My sister in law, a long time and devout believer who I used to (not so lovingly) refer to as "The Baptinista" in my atheist days, sent me a link this morning. She knows I am here in Memphis at The Great Emergence event and that I am unsure why. She does not know much about the premise of the conference or the content of the emergent conversation. She is a Chuck Swindoll gal and gets his daily devotional. As I read what she sent, it I thought two things. It is true that there is nothing new under the sun...yet sometimes things need to be reinvigorated. This may be communicated differently to different people across generational and process divides, but the call is coming from all corners to reconsider how things are being done. I hold out hope that we can do it as a unified intergenerational family.
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I leave tomorrow morning for The Great Emergence, a two day event in Memphis hosted by Phyllis Tickle and organized by Tony Jones and Doug Pagitt. The release of Mrs. Tickle's book of the same name is the premise for the event, but the schedule is jam-packed with speakers, breakout sessions and several opportunties to eat amazing BBQ. You can find some background on Mrs. Tickle, her book, a list of speakers and other info here if you are interested in learning more. The video below gives a short overview of the book in the author's own words. I'd love to tell you that I can't wait to go or that this is my emergent dream come true, but that would not be true. On the contrary, I have a nasty cold (maybe the flu) and, while I have read and enjoyed the writing of many of the key Emergent authors since I came to faith in 2003, I have to admit that I am still very much a listener in the emergent conversation.
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I've been thinking about Caroline's Ferdinandsen's Case for a Little Spiritual Quarantine, a piece she posted on this site about a week ago. One line in particular has haunted me since I read it. Caroline writes, "my Christian faith has suffered from my chronic reading, interfacing, and networking this past year." I find this to be a chilling statement. I do not know Caroline beyond her articles, blog posts, comments and Conversant profile. But, if this writer/educator is finding it difficult to discern among thoughts and perspectives of the bloggers and authors out there, who else is reading books, blogs and articles and struggling to find a foothold? This question led me to ask my writing-self some probing and personal questions. Specifically, I wondered what part my words play that struggle? Why is it that I write what I write? Do I take the time to consider how my words might impact a devout reader? A questioning reader? An unbelieving reader? What is my intention? Am hoping to entertain? To teach? To win an argument? Am I just trying to sound smart? Or to impress? Or be funny? Are my choices of topic and tone and perspective serving the reader? Or am I serving myself? In a nutshell, are the things I write part of the problem or part of the solution?
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I have never been one to set writing goals. In fact, despite the fact that many creative and prolific writers swear by them, there is something about having to write a certain number of pages, or for a certain number of hours every day, that sucks the creative wind right out of me. I prefer the romantic notion of being inspired by the muse over the practicality of sitting down and hammering out a certain number of words a day. But, in writing as in life, the practical often trumps the romantic and we are forced to create within the bounds of deadlines and responsibilities. For me, that means delivering a 60,000 word manuscript to my acquisitions editor by February 15, 2009. This is not a loose deadline. I am contractually bound to make it happen. To get there, I've set a personal goal of writing 1000 words a day, six days a week for six weeks.
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After more than four years of drafting, bumbling, abandoning projects and starting new ones I am thrilled to share that the Christian imprint of a large publishing house that has agreed to take on my first book. It is a personal narrative called (surprise, surprise) Flirting with Faith: My Journey from Atheism to Agnosticism to a Devoted Life. This is a mini-miracle for several reasons.
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