I was quite happy to see Blue Like Jazz the Movie finally getting some attention in MSM over the weekend. I just hope it didn't come too late. At least every couple of days since I saw the movie in a preview screening, I have unashamedly posted links to buy tickets on various social networking sites, in addition to talking it up in conversation. I was happy to read this morning that the movie has enjoyed success in multiple markets, while disappointed that it was struggling in others. Here's hoping for continued success for the film.
But why do I believe in it so much? Why, as a Pastor and person of faith, promote so heavily a film which has brought with it a pretty heated discussion on whether it is truthful or blasphemous? Why not just stick my head in the sand and ignore it, or better yet, stay in line with other "evangelical" leaders and speak out against it, as opposed to promoting it?
Because, from my perspective, it is truth, rather than blasphemous. Why?, you ask.
Christian circles have for far too long have failed to present reality. We have largely lived in a bubble where we have convinced ourselves everything is OK, and if we just keep doing what we've been doing, everything will turn out fine.
Oh, how wrong we have been. Our insistence on "happy Jesus faces" and shallow faith has led to shrinking churches and distaste for Christianity rather than success. It has led to many young people, who upon leaving the confines of their Christian "bubble" encountering a crisis of faith which for many has been irreconcilable.
Blue Like Jazz speaks to the heart of this very problem. The movie, based on Don Miller's wildly popular book of the same name, features the lead character, Don, raised a conservative Southern Baptist, heading off to school at Reed College, known as the most godless campus in America. The transformation and spiritual wrestling match which ensues is gripping, provocative and truthful. When put into places where our faith is challenged and not the norm, we are forced to be awakened to the reality that our beliefs are not shared by the entire world and that they may just not be as concrete as we thought they were.
And that is a good thing. If the church, if the Christian faith, if Jesus, is to be reclaimed as relevant to life, then we have to be willing to pop the bubble, deal with our pain, questions, and live our lives in a way that matters. Otherwise, faith will continue to die and the potential life changing impact of Christianity will continue to grow weaker by the day.
So, go see Blue Like Jazz, pop your bubble, and live a life that matters.
For tickets, go to www.bluelikejazztickets.com
Monday, April 16, 2012
Thursday, April 5, 2012
I am going to hell for Facebook Jesus tells me so.
I am going to hell. Or at least that is what one of the many "Click n Share" Facebook Jesus' informed me this morning would happen if I did not pass it on.
For the last several days my Facebook newsfeed has been inundated with tacky representations of Christ with even tackier messages attached to them. The guilty one of this morning read "Whoever is ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of in front of My Father. Will I be ashamed of you? If not, pass this on" In reading this I heard "Pass this on, or you will go to hell you heathen."
After recovering from my initial offense at this absurdity, I began to ponder what I would call "Click n Share" theology.
This particular brand of theology seems to be ever increasing in popularity. This theological persuasion basically asserts that the definition of a good Christian is one who simply states "I Love Jesus, how about you?" and that is pretty much as deep as it goes.
A love for Jesus Christ and a living Christian faith is about a lot more than clicking and sharing. It requires sacrifice. It requires loving other people (which in itself is often a sacrifice). It requires living a life which in itself affirms one's love and devotion to Christ. Such devotion cannot be accomplished simply by "clicking n sharing". Insinuating ill consequences on those who choose not to click and share is itself far from an act of love.
It troubles me to know that in America today, "click n share theology" is the deepest many peoples Christian faith goes. Many Christians do not know nor have no desire to really share their faith. So instead, with the click of a mouse and a warm fuzzy feeling inside, they feel like their work for the Kingdom is complete.
As I read the Beattitudes this morning, as I try to do fairly often, I failed to see the one which reads "Blessed are those who share horribly inaccurate and horrifically cheesy pictures of me on Facebook. The Kingdom of God is theirs. Way to go!" No, instead, I found these words
"God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him,
for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.
God blesses those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
God blesses those who are humble,
for they will inherit the whole earth.
God blesses those who hunger and thirst for justice,
for they will be satisfied.
God blesses those who are merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
God blesses those whose hearts are pure,
for they will see God.
God blesses those who work for peace,
for they will be called the children of God.
God blesses those who are persecuted for doing right,
for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.
"God blesses you when people mock you and persecute you and lie about you and say all sorts of evil things against you because you are my followers. Be happy about it! Be very glad! For a great reward awaits you in heaven. And remember, the ancient prophets were persecuted in the same way. (Matthew 5:3-12 NLT)
Now I ask you, does your own faith go deeper than clicking and sharing? This Easter season, I pray you may find God calling out to you to love the poor, work for peace, be filled with mercy, and growing in your faith in real ways.
And that, from my perspective, cannot be accomplished by clicking and sharing.
For the last several days my Facebook newsfeed has been inundated with tacky representations of Christ with even tackier messages attached to them. The guilty one of this morning read "Whoever is ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of in front of My Father. Will I be ashamed of you? If not, pass this on" In reading this I heard "Pass this on, or you will go to hell you heathen."
After recovering from my initial offense at this absurdity, I began to ponder what I would call "Click n Share" theology.
This particular brand of theology seems to be ever increasing in popularity. This theological persuasion basically asserts that the definition of a good Christian is one who simply states "I Love Jesus, how about you?" and that is pretty much as deep as it goes.
A love for Jesus Christ and a living Christian faith is about a lot more than clicking and sharing. It requires sacrifice. It requires loving other people (which in itself is often a sacrifice). It requires living a life which in itself affirms one's love and devotion to Christ. Such devotion cannot be accomplished simply by "clicking n sharing". Insinuating ill consequences on those who choose not to click and share is itself far from an act of love.
It troubles me to know that in America today, "click n share theology" is the deepest many peoples Christian faith goes. Many Christians do not know nor have no desire to really share their faith. So instead, with the click of a mouse and a warm fuzzy feeling inside, they feel like their work for the Kingdom is complete.
As I read the Beattitudes this morning, as I try to do fairly often, I failed to see the one which reads "Blessed are those who share horribly inaccurate and horrifically cheesy pictures of me on Facebook. The Kingdom of God is theirs. Way to go!" No, instead, I found these words
"God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him,
for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.
God blesses those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
God blesses those who are humble,
for they will inherit the whole earth.
God blesses those who hunger and thirst for justice,
for they will be satisfied.
God blesses those who are merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
God blesses those whose hearts are pure,
for they will see God.
God blesses those who work for peace,
for they will be called the children of God.
God blesses those who are persecuted for doing right,
for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.
"God blesses you when people mock you and persecute you and lie about you and say all sorts of evil things against you because you are my followers. Be happy about it! Be very glad! For a great reward awaits you in heaven. And remember, the ancient prophets were persecuted in the same way. (Matthew 5:3-12 NLT)
Now I ask you, does your own faith go deeper than clicking and sharing? This Easter season, I pray you may find God calling out to you to love the poor, work for peace, be filled with mercy, and growing in your faith in real ways.
And that, from my perspective, cannot be accomplished by clicking and sharing.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Pain. It hurts. Reflections on life and Holy Week.
Pain. It hurts. I know that seems like an obvious statement. But so often we are guilty of pretending we don't hurt. This is especially true of Christians. Why are we as Christians so afraid to admit that things in life bring us pain? Are we victims of a "SuperChristian" mentality, where we have convinced ourselves that we aren't supposed to hurt? I think so and I just don't understand why.
I mean, really, why the farce? Being a person of faith does not make us immune to pain. Of any type. Emotional pain, physical pain, spiritual pain. We feel it all. Why are we so scared to admit our brokenness and to feel our own pain?
Yesterday, I had one of those days. You know one of those days. Where the pain worked it's way to the surface. The physical and emotional toils of MS coupled with a hurting heart for people I know who are enduring their own battles caught up with me. And I had to let it out. A good cry, a good conversation with my wife, and some prayer and contemplation. But you know what? It felt good. I felt freedom and release in finally admitting that I am not perfect, I do not feel great everyday and that life takes it toll on me like it does everyone else. It felt good just to admit it. Last night, for the first time in months, I slept. Really slept. No meds, no all night insomnia, just good sleep. This morning, I woke up at 6, filled with joy and excitement at what the day might hold. Not because I am free of pain, I am still broken, but because I allowed myself the freedom to be released from the grip it was holding on me by simply admitting, pain hurts.
And this morning as I reflect on this Holy Week, I can't help but to see the Gospel lived out in my experience of the past two days. Before the glorious resurrection on Easter Morning, there was Holy Week. A week in which Christ bore the brunt of his emotional anguish. He knew what was coming that week. He understood that betrayal was coming, beatings and mockery, and ultimately a crown of thorns and a cross awaited Him. But He did not run from it, nor did He hide it. Anguished prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane, long talks with the disciples, and a deep understanding that pain was real unavoidable, and even necessary.
Without that pain, there would have been no Easter morning. As Dr. Mac Wallace constantly affirmed to us at Campbell University Divinity School, we cannot rush through the pain of the Cross in an eagerness to get to the resurrection. Doing so somehow leaves us void and unappreciative of the glory that comes with the resurrection.
So that has been my Holy Week lesson. Pain hurts. But rather than bury it, hide it, or ignore it, we must accept it, live through it, and come out on the other side.
Only in doing that, can we fully appreciate the freedom that comes on Resurrection Morning in our lives.
I mean, really, why the farce? Being a person of faith does not make us immune to pain. Of any type. Emotional pain, physical pain, spiritual pain. We feel it all. Why are we so scared to admit our brokenness and to feel our own pain?
Yesterday, I had one of those days. You know one of those days. Where the pain worked it's way to the surface. The physical and emotional toils of MS coupled with a hurting heart for people I know who are enduring their own battles caught up with me. And I had to let it out. A good cry, a good conversation with my wife, and some prayer and contemplation. But you know what? It felt good. I felt freedom and release in finally admitting that I am not perfect, I do not feel great everyday and that life takes it toll on me like it does everyone else. It felt good just to admit it. Last night, for the first time in months, I slept. Really slept. No meds, no all night insomnia, just good sleep. This morning, I woke up at 6, filled with joy and excitement at what the day might hold. Not because I am free of pain, I am still broken, but because I allowed myself the freedom to be released from the grip it was holding on me by simply admitting, pain hurts.
And this morning as I reflect on this Holy Week, I can't help but to see the Gospel lived out in my experience of the past two days. Before the glorious resurrection on Easter Morning, there was Holy Week. A week in which Christ bore the brunt of his emotional anguish. He knew what was coming that week. He understood that betrayal was coming, beatings and mockery, and ultimately a crown of thorns and a cross awaited Him. But He did not run from it, nor did He hide it. Anguished prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane, long talks with the disciples, and a deep understanding that pain was real unavoidable, and even necessary.
Without that pain, there would have been no Easter morning. As Dr. Mac Wallace constantly affirmed to us at Campbell University Divinity School, we cannot rush through the pain of the Cross in an eagerness to get to the resurrection. Doing so somehow leaves us void and unappreciative of the glory that comes with the resurrection.
So that has been my Holy Week lesson. Pain hurts. But rather than bury it, hide it, or ignore it, we must accept it, live through it, and come out on the other side.
Only in doing that, can we fully appreciate the freedom that comes on Resurrection Morning in our lives.
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