Archive | September, 2008

She Only Calls Me On Sundays | Gary Louris

Every once in a while you find a song so brilliant that it sticks in your head for days. This is one of those songs. I’ve followed Louris for years now (through the Jayhawks and Golden Smog), and this is one of his finest songs. On the surface it seems like a simple country ditty—don’t let that dissuade you.

For me, this sounds precisely like what God was trying to say through Ezekiel. God kept chasing his people while they kept running after their own addictions, oblivious to their heartbroken Lover. Ezekiel would have used spicier language, though!

Enjoy.

[Unfortunately, this video was removed from YouTube]

From Vagabonds.

Wise Blood | Flannery O’Connor

This book is overwhelming. O’Connor has a knack for placing her vividly imagined characters in bizarre (yet somehow appropriate) situations.

I’ve often thought that “classic” novels should be read for the beauty of their prose–the plot is often irrelevant. For example, you can read any random chapter of War and Peace and be impressed by the writing without understanding the plot at all. O’Connor’s writing certainly has that quality, but the plot is compelling as well. It’s a one-two punch that makes the book irresistible.

Here are some of the things I loved about this book:

  1. The worldview is thoroughly Christian without being trite.
  2. The characters suffer from various mental problems, which make them real.
  3. The elements of the plot are often bizarre, yet are perfectly suitable for the story.
  4. The symbolism is deep and is woven throughout the entire story.

It’s sad that O’Connor only wrote two novels. I would love to hear from anyone who has read her novels and could recommend another novelist I would enjoy reading. For now, I’m going to pick up her short stories.

Ignorant Differences | Francis Bacon

In Rob Bell’s video, Everything Is Spiritual, he uses a great analogy: is a marker a circle or a rectangle? It depends how you look at it. It’s both.

I was faithfully reading Volume 3 of my Harvard Classics when I came across the same idea in Francis Bacon’s Essay, “Of Unity in Religion” (you can read the full essay online here).

A man that is of judgment and understanding shall sometimes hear ignorant men differ, and know well within himself that those which so differ mean one thing, and yet they themselves would never agree. And if it come so to pass in that distance of judgment which is between man and man, shall we not think that God above, that knows the heart, doth not discern that frail men in some of their contradictions intend the same thing; and accepteth of both?

I suppose the difficulty lies in trying to figure out which differences in church life are only perceived, and which are genuine.

1 John 2:9-11 | Love Ain’t Blind

image by seblanglaw

image by elh70

I’m still adjusting to the whole parenting thing. Let me share one of my frustrations with you: toys. I remember watching the commercials that came on during cartoons as a kid, longing to own every single trinket that was marketed towards my age bracket. Now, I feel differently. I’ve turned my back on that childhood infatuation with all things shiny and plastic.

I don’t think I can count the number of times I’ve stepped on one of Ryan’s toys. The biggest problem comes in the evening. Our living room light fixture is remote controlled. Since we need to keep everything breakable above Ryan’s reach, we’ve found a place for the remote control on top of our entertainment centre. This creates an interesting evening routine. When it’s time to go to bed, I make my way to the entertainment centre, deftly stepping around the plastic Tupperware shapes, and the Fisher-Price Little People. Then, I turn and scan the floor, memorizing the placement of the various toys. After I’ve got a good grasp of the layout, I turn off the light, walk through the toys in the dark, and (usually) make it to the bedroom without stepping on something too painful.

I share this to make a simple point: it’s easy to stumble over things when the lights are off. John made the same point in his letter. You’ve likely heard the familiar saying, “love is blind”. John used the image of light and darkness to teach the opposite of “love is blind”. It’s only when we love that we are in the light and can truly see. Continue Reading →

Wintergreen | Monte Hummel

Beautiful. Simply beautiful.

If you’ve ever spent time in the wilderness, you should read this book. You will find yourself mentally revisiting all the places you’ve camped. More than that, Hummel will make you want to return to the outdoors. Hummel’s love for nature is so contagious, I found myself wanting to learn everything I could about even the flora in my backyard!

My golden standard for wilderness writing is anything by Sigurd Olson (Especially The Singing Wilderness and Runes of the North). This book by Hummel ranks right up there with Sigurd.

Whose Bible? | G. K. Chesterton

I’m a sucker for complete editions of any author I enjoy. I found my treasured hardback copy of The Complete Father Brown Stories in a second hand bookstore in Stouffville, Ontario.

Chesterton‘s Father Brown stories are brilliant in many ways. Aside from the clever mysteries he invents, the perspective of the protagonist—a Catholic priest—gives Chesterton many opportunities to comment on theology.

Here Father Brown explains to Flambeau why Sir Arthur St. Clare’s habit of reading the Bible doesn’t mean he’s innocent:

Sir Arthur St. Clare, as I have already said, was a man who read his Bible. That was what was the matter with him. When will people understand that it is useless for a man to read his Bible unless he also reads everybody else’s Bible? A printer reads a Bible for misprints. A Mormon reads his Bible, and finds polygamy; a Christian Scientist reads his, and finds we have no arms and legs.

This started me thinking: what bible do I read?

1 John 2:7-8 | Everything Old is New

image by cnraether

image by cnraether

Contradictions. Flip-flops. U-turns. These words get a lot of mileage on CNN every election season. The pundits on one side are always looking to find opposing views within the other camp. The public can put up with a lot of things from a candidate, it seems, but not a change of mind.

A surface reading of 1 John 2:7-8 makes it sound like John himself has joined the ranks of the flip-floppers (NRSV):

I am writing you no new commandment, . . . I am writing you a new commandment.

Which is it?  Old or new? Let’s look deeper and see what the commandment is, and look at whether it’s old or new—or both.

. . .

To make things difficult, the commentators don’t even to agree on what commandment is being referred to here. Kruse thinks the commandment is to believe in God’s Son, Jesus Christ, since John equates it with the word they heard from the beginning. Bultmann thinks that the command is a way of referring to the gospel in general—John simply replaced the plural term with the singular. I tend to agree with Stott on this issue, though:

[John] does not explicitly reveal what the nature of this commandment is; but since the subject of verses 9-11 is love, and since the ‘new commandment’ which Jesus gave was ‘As I have loved you, so you must love one another’ (Jn. 13:34; cf. 15:12, 17), it is plain that the command concerns brotherly love.

This interpretation adds poignancy to the way John begins the sentence: beloved (agapētoi). John refers to his church as agapētoi six times, with this being the first. He’s essentially saying: Beloved, be-loving!

So is this command to love old or new? It’s both. John probably referred to it as old and fundamental, because he was intent on contradicting the new false teachings that were moving through his congregations. Indeed, God’s desire for us to love each other is very old. However, Jesus called it a new command when he gave it:

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. (John 13:34, NRSV)

. . .

Stott points out four ways that this old command could be called new:

  1. New in the emphasis he gave it.
    When asked what the greatest commandment was, Jesus summarized all the law and the prophets by pulling together two old themes (from Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18). Love for God, and love for our neighbour sums up God’s desire for us (Matthew 22:34-40).
  2. New in the quality he gave it.
    When Jesus reminded his followers to love each other, he expected them to follow his example even to death! I have problems sacrificing a peaceful drive alone to pick up a hitch-hiker—Jesus took took the command as deep as it could go, and modeled it in his own death.
  3. New in the extent he gave it.
    Jesus’ command that we love each other doesn’t end with our friends, or even with other Christians. Remember the parable of the Good Samaritan? We are even called to love our enemies, and to do good to those who hate us.
  4. New by our fresh apprehension of it.
    Here’s the most important aspect of this command’s newness. We are called to continually apply this command. It’s not enough that we made a loving gesture in a soup kitchen last winter. We need to walk in his love daily. Candlish articulates this point well: Though doctrinal Christianity is always old, experimental Christianity is always new. (in Stott)

. . .

We’re living in an overlap of two ages. John represents the old age with the the word darkness, and reminds us that it’s passing away. The new age is characterized by light, and not just any light: the light of Jesus Christ himself! I like the way Revelation describes the new heavens and earth:

The city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb. (21:23, NRSV)

As Christians, we’ve passed into this new age where the light of Christ is already shining. The divine love that Jesus commands us to participate in is already truly expressed “in him and in you” (v. 8, NRSV). We’re under orders to pull people (of course, with the help of the Spirit) out of the dark age and into the loving light of Jesus. For this reason, it says:

Sleeper, awake!
Rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.
Ephesians 5:14, NRSV

< 1 John 2:6 | Looking for the Snowshoes

1 John 2:9-11 | Love Ain’t Blind >

Life With God | Richard Foster with Katheryn A. Helmers

I expected a lot from this book. Foster’s Celebration of Discipline (along with Lewis’ Mere Christianity) are the two most important books I’ve ever read. I’ve followed Foster for years now, reading everything he’s written. I’ve attended a fantastic Renovaré conference, and have even used Celebration for a small group study.

Nevertheless, it pains me to express my disappointment in this book. I should be more precise. I was angry when I finished this work. I felt like I spent $16.00 and a few hours that I can never get back. Almost everything in this book is paraphrased from his earlier works (including an almost chapter-length summary of his Streams of Living Water).

The last straw for me came while reading page 197:

Scripture identifies two kinds of life: bios, the physical, created life; and zoë, the spiritual, eternal life. Likewise, Scripture identifies two kinds of death: teleute, physical death; and thanatos, spiritual death. So it is entirely possible to be physically alive but spiritually dead.

The paragraph sounded familiar. Here it is from page ix of the “Word to the Reader”:

Scripture identifies two types of life: bios, the physical, created life; and zoë, the spiritual, eternal life. Likewise, there are two types of death: teleute, physical death; and thanatos, spiritual death. Thus, it is entirely possible for a person to be physically alive (bios) while being spiritually dead (thanatos).

I should be fair here. If you’ve never read anything by Richard Foster, this book is a solid introduction and summary of his thought. If you have read him before, save yourself some time and read the people he counts among his influences:

  • Augustine
  • Bonhoeffer
  • Brother Lawrence
  • Thomas Kelly
  • Frank Laubach
  • Tozer
  • Wollman

They’ll take you further. For me, I’m eagerly awaiting Foster’s next book. Here’s hoping . . .

Doubt and Uncertainty | Richard P. Feynman

This post might be better titled, “Out of Context”. I was reading Richard Feynman’s collection of short works, The Pleasure of Finding Things Out, last night. In it was a paragraph that, while aimed as a critique of blind religion, oddly bolstered my own faith:

You see, one thing is, I can live with doubt and uncertainty and not knowing. I think it’s much more interesting to live not knowing than to have answers which might be wrong.

What a beautiful (and paradoxical) description of faith-as-trust. Our answers are always tennative and far less important than relationship. I think of Job who, while assuming his theological “answers” about the goodness of God we incorrect, never stopped directing his attention toward Him.

The Violent Bear It Away | Flannery O’Connor

I’m almost at a loss for words after finishing this book. I picked it up after reading Rowan William‘s discussion of her work. I was unprepared for the power of her prose.

O’Connor has an uncanny ability to get inside the minds of the characters she’s created and explain their thoughts like no one else. The characters are vivid, and remain with you after you put the book down.

Another aspect of the book that made it so compelling was the complexity of the character’s motivations. In the middle of the book, I couldn’t imagine what to hope for as a resolution. In the end, I wasn’t sure whether to cheer or cringe.

If you want a novel that will stick with you, and challenge both the vacuosity of secularism and the terror of fundamentalism, this is your book.

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