New Religious Middle

Here is the promised whatever it is. (It is back in the archives but I do not know how to link that way yet.)
Whoee -- Maybe I do - click on "it" above and scroll down. Nevermind my childish exhuberance, just read it below:

A History of the New Religious Middle
(How to find the Right party without being Left out in the cold.)

It was the time before time. Well, that may be a bit too dramatic but it has all the catch of "it was the winter of our discontent." Say, come to think of it that was it; The Winter of Our Discontent. On the other hand that phrase is one of those that used once exhausts its power so I decided not to open this piece with it which as the reader will note I did not although I have pretty sneakily tossed it in so now I've effectively rammed this whole introduction about six feet under. So as I said, It was the time before time.
We wanted to start a whole new political concept. The old continuum from liberal to conservative was too uncomfortable, like being in a shooting war as an enemy and an ally of both sides. We tried for years to carry on the battle from between the armies in no man's land but got awfully tired of fighting the flack shot by both sides. It was like being caught in the center of a Chicago street with two rival gangs trying to even a score neither side could really add up.

We held to values that in a two party system seemed mutually exclusive. We believed there were absolutes; principles that would never change. To us there was such a thing as unchanging truth. Absolutes made sense because we all believed in God who revealed that He would never change. When He said love was good it would always be good. When He said I Am, He would always be I Am, the God who is, present tense, forever. So when we entered the public forum we always found ourselves saying conservative sounding things like, "We hold these truths to be self evident that all men were created equal..." And then we found that it was a pretty Liberal stance in its original context. Some of us were a little more blunt about our conservative values: "My Bible says that God will judge a people who oppress the poor!" And then, lo and behold as we espoused our conservative absolutes (like caring for the poor) we discovered that all of them fit over on this century's liberal side. Consternation and confusion!
Ah but then over time we realized a mediating principle: We were to be always calling the nation back to the faith of our fathers but not necessarily to the ways of our fathers. We denied the post-modern conclusion that truth is relative to the times but espoused their observation that the interpretations and applications of truth are tied to time. The eternal, absolute principles were to be fresh to us every morning. They never changed but the way they applied to each new culture changed. Over time the Lords Table became the altar rail, became the anxious bench, became the arena floor became the side prayer room, became the "would you like to pray?" after the Four Spiritual Laws. Now it is, “IMHO Jesus Saves.” The principle that a man needs to have a face to face hand-shaking kind of experience of God is an absolute that has never changed. But different cultures, denominations, personalities, revivals of religion, have found the experience in different ways. So then we were often like the Right, valuing the old values, looking backward for our definitions of right and wrong, believing that they did not change. And we were also often like the Left, calling for new ways, new applications recognizing that many behaviors could cover one Truth, and that one Truth could have many applications even in one society.

So, there we were. What to do? Suddenly we saw the answer on the computer screen before us. Just a small adjustment and the whole political world as we knew it would change. We took the center of the Liberal - Conservative spectrum about twenty rows straight down (on the PC) to a safer spot. There was a collective sigh from the group around the terminal. The artists loved the triangularity, and the theologians thought it looked so . . . trinitarian. As usual the apologists reserved their praise noting a certain cabalistic element in the design. It was a "contrinuum," or a "spectrime" if you please. The "two's company" ole buddy days of "right" and "left" were over. All hailed the stability of the third leg. And then somebody said, "How are we going to let the other two legs know we're here?"

A name! That's it, a name. Something pithy that says it all.

So here we are still needing some help. We have boiled our ideas down into five names that might fit. (There were five of us in the discussion.) Here they are: the Versatile Immobile Party, the Protean Permanence Party, the Evolutionary Immutablity Party, The Quicksilver Stability Party and the Chameleon Leopard Party.

What do you think?

Back in Chicago

We are back in Chicago for a few days. We have been working on blogability for Bushnell office so it should be possible to blog from there when we get back. I do go blotto over work sometimes so it is not surprising to miss a month of blogs, like last month but check back, sanity always returns.

I have been thinking a lot about adjusting the gospel presentation to communicate to our changing cultural climate. I do believe we as Christians will always be revisiting the gospel stories and teachings to see if there is something we have missed or misinterpreted. This always going back is not an innovation of post-Christian thought. On the other hand, we often sound as if we do not constantly reassess our theology. We talk about "time honored truth" or "absolute truth" as if that is what is coming out of our mouth. It is not a relativization of truth to recognize that we all are finite creatures who come short, very short, of real-izing ultimate truth. No one of us, not individually or in a group (read denomination) has a perfect grasp of ultimate truth. But saying that is an to actually propose that there is such a thing as ultimate truth.

A lot of Christians are rightly afraid of accommodating our Christian beliefs to worldly pressures. Culture is a powerful thing. We all want to be accepted. Or at least we desperately want our witness for Jesus to be accepted. I am reading a book, Chameleon Christianity by Dick Keyes. In the first few chapters he argues that the Chameleon Christian "will bend to the currently respectable viewpoint on each ethical issue. . ." He also suggests there is another reaction to the culture which he labels Christian tribalism. "Christian tribalism -- the protective containment of Christian distinctiveness within the Christian ghetto or subculture. It entails christian tribal dialects, tribal education, tribal music, tribal television, and even the Christian tribal yellow pages. . ." Having set the two poles, tribalism and chameleon Christianity Keyes notes that there are powerful forces that force people from one end to the other. Young people in a tribal situation think, "Help! This cannot be what the Christian faith is really like.. I need to find some group that offers an alternative to this rigidity!" The only alternative is at the other end of the spectrum. Those in a Chameleon Church think, "Where can we find other Christians who will help us stand against the tide of relativism and moral passivity?" Suddenly the Tribal Christians are looking good.

Tomorrow I will look up a piece I wrote when Cornerstone Magazine staff was agonizing over this very issue. Where the rubber met the road was our seeming liberalism in certain political stands such as caring for the poor verses our seeming conservatism in others such as abortion.

New projects

We are on the road today. Going from Chicago to Bushnell. We are working on several books, both editing and writing. These are books to be published by Cornerstone Press, Chicago. We're editing a couple books by Glenn Kaiser http://gkaiser.blogspot.com/ and http://www.glennkaiser.com/of Resurrection Band and one by Chris Ramsey about his work at Cornerstone Community Outreach shelter. CCOlife.org. Chris is bloggless and computer challenged but he knows his shelter men and women.

By the way, it strikes me that no one reading this blog knows my "we." It is Dawn and me. She is my sweetheart of ten years. She is the object of my Tiger love. She is the "dawn" of my life, subject of the Mime lover poem. I, of course am the mime lover. There are lots of other poems also - maybe some day.

The Original PoMo

It is nice to imagine that I was post modern before post modern was cool but was it just adolescent rebellion? Let the buyer beware.

Written back in the late 1960s:

The Lost Stone

Speaker 1: (Sadly)
The Stone
Which the builders rejected,
The Stone,
Which became the head of the corner,
The Stone,
Upon which His church would be built
Is lost!

Speaker 2: (Confidently)
Lost? My son you have not been to Our church.
We have a succession line,
Transcending back through time,
Peter's line of ordination,
Precious line of the Lord's creation.

Speaker 1: (Sadly)
But the stone is lost . . . the ordination different from the ordinator.

Speaker 3: (Argumentatively)
Lost? Young radical, you have not been to Our church!
We have the truth - a clear bell tone,
Man can be saved by faith alone,
Luther's theses we still hold,
We have here your Stone of old.

Speaker 1: (Sadly)
But the Stone is lost . . . the person different from His truth.

Speaker 4: (In preacher tone)
Lost? Seeker, you have not been to Our church.
The word of God is where we look,
There are no mistakes in God's own book,
A strong foundation - never weak,
Here you'll find the Stone you seek.

Speaker 1: (Sadly)
But the Stone is lost . . . the path different from its destination.

Speaker 5: (Liltingly)
Lost? Friend, you have not been to Our church.
There we speak with other tongues,
Praising God from out our lungs,
We can show you how to speak,
Limber up, now don't be meek.

Speaker (Sadly)
But the stone is lost . . . the gift different from the giver.

Come search with me brothers,
We seek only one Stone,
Come search with me brothers,
I'll not find it alone

We'll look under your Church,
We'll look under mine,
We'll know when we find it,
The same through all time.

No false combinations,
Our brotherhood true,
We'll understand unity,
when we are through.

Authority

It seems to me that the post modern antipathy toward authoritative proclamation is simply a plea for good solid reasons, rather than "Thus saith the authority." There is a difference between saying, Hold it, stop right there." and "Hold it, you're one step from fresh concrete." I can understand the speaker's panic in the first statement. I think there is a similar commendable panic in some gospel proclaimers too. They are honestly afraid if their hearer doesn't act quickly there is danger ahead. But I can also understand why someone will be more apt to respond to the second statement. It not only communicates the speaker's sense of danger but also gives the hearer the right to make his own judgment as to the danger. If he wants to walk in wet cement he may.

I am 60 years old. I have been intrigued with the post modern critique of Christianity largely because it echoes some of the problems I have had with the church since a young man. I referred to some of the problem in my last sermon at Jesus People USA.: "I was saved in the 5th grade - The songs we sang pictured my experience, “There’s been a Great change since I been born.” 'The things I usta would love - I don’t love no more.' So I was devoted to Jesus - Then someone told me: If you love Jesus, you will not be ashamed of Him - you’ll go out witnessing !

Oh dread - I was shy - scared to speak in public. I was the little kid peering out from behind his mama’s skirts. But I loved Jesus nevertheless. It wasn't really true that I couldn't love Jesus without rudely blaring the gospel out to people who I didn't know" I know this runs counter to some modern evangelistic paradigms but now, because of the post modern antipathy toward authoritative proclamation I can ease my imputed guilt.

One of my first poems written back in 1959.

Worship Service
The hour has come,
For us to sit,
And stand and sit,
And stand and sit.
We do this to be
Spiritually fit.

Things run smooth,
As smooth can be,
Everything's planned,
For eternity,
We do this because,
We've been set free.

The brass plates flash,
Down every row,
Our hare-earned coins,
And dollars flow,
Our love for God,
These things do show.

Now for a while,
We sit in awe,
The man arises,
Who has "the call,"
His words - raindrops,
Of honey fall

So when the winds
Of life are bleak,
We sit and stand
And give each week
Our spiritual house,
Will never creak.

Penelope the Pigeon God

I’ve been wondering why the homeless have such a penchant for feeding the pigeons in the city. One day I saw a big bag left on the sidewalk, the kind of bag the shelter gets filled with bread donations. Aha, Dr. Watson, someone has been feeding pigeons with shelter bread.

Penelope the Pigeon God

Even the Mayor had her number
This enemy of the city
This corruptor of the alleyways.
A long history,

The signs!
Don’t feed the pigeons
Under statute number
117c(547p, amended)

The police patrol
Couldn’t catch her in the act
And the remains were everywhere
Because they didn’t give the birds
Unstructured time to eat.

Where does she get all that bread,
The Mayor said.
Detectives were directed.
Forensic evidence,
Showed donated homeless shelter bread
They said, She’s stealing
From the Homeless Shelter

Sirens to the shelter came
Fred, the Homeless Shelter
Inside man said,
No, she’s living here
It’s her bread, said Fred

The sirens swooped
The mayor had his (old wo-) man!
Bright lights, hot beams
Her diminutive form
Took up half the interrogation chair
Hands folded in her lap

And then, the confession,
Of Penelope the pigeon god
“The birds love me,
To them I am like God,
They come at my coo and call
That makes me feel better,
To be on top for once,
And so, I feed them.
What kind of a God is she
Who doesn’t answer pigeon pleas?

Post Modernism and Christianity

I have been studying Post Modernism and it's effect on culture in general and on Christianity in particular. The study has been like taking a small tiger cub into my life, finding it fun and playful especially for what it does to the old modernist armchair (its upholstery is torn to shreds.). I like that, I always hated that armchair anyway, never sat in it. But I look in the eyes of my new little pet and ask "What exactly does your DNA require you to become?" I am increasingly wondering what it will grow up to be. I went to a conference last week where Brian McLaren presented a paper that gave me a glimpse of what was touted by the responding paper (by Dr Duane Litfin, president of Wheaton College) to be a very toothy grown up tiger. Brian had said, "I have put my eggs in the basket that suggests we need to rethink our understanding of the gospel -- both for the sake of faithfulness to Holy Scripture, and for the sake of mission in the emerging postmodern culture." Dr. Litfin objected pointing out that Paul had clearly stated the gospel in, I Cor. 15:1-8

1Moreover, brethren, I declare unto you the gospel which I preached unto you, which also ye have received, and wherein ye stand; 2By which also ye are saved, if ye keep in memory what I preached unto you, unless ye have believed in vain. 3For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; 4And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures: 5And that he was seen of Cephas, then of the twelve: 6After that, he was seen of above five hundred brethren at once; of whom the greater part remain unto this present, but some are fallen asleep. 7After that, he was seen of James; then of all the apostles. 8And last of all he was seen of me also, as of one born out of due time.

Duane was actually in good post modern form in that the gospel turned out to be a story, a story that needs interpretation to get at its real meaning. In many other places Paul does interpret the meaning of the story. What exactly is Brian's point? It seems simply that we as the church may have misinterpreted the story, or may have misunderstood Paul's interpretation. That seems simple enough, and possible.

I still like this little fella. Listen to him purr.

Love in the Ruins

Love in the Ruins

I was so young at fifty
When we talked about infatuation and love.
Poor girl; she didn't know what she was getting,
A mime lover
Who could flail his arms
And churn his legs
And make his face be whatever was called for
In a pantomime dance
And the answer was
I love you like a tiger
With a roar that makes the jungle mute
But I can't find your language . . .yet!
And you can't guess my pantomime.

(With apology to Walker Percy)

the Attic of the World (a dream)

I wanted to get in to the attic of the world..
(A dream)

It was a snowy field down a gentle slope. A bright sunny day
I need to tame the beast, I said to my companion; the wolf who has been the antagonist of my youthful, dreams, The chaser. Many times I have escaped his snapping jaws in a mad rush through the forest leaping just in time up to the back porch of home.
I was a man in a child's body. I said to my pal, I want to have the wolf as a friend, my dog, my pet, to play and scamper with. And then I looked and behold the wolf chasing a prey, not me this time, thank God.
Let's get him, I said, at the same time recoiling at the task. My comrade rushed ahead. We were both calling to the beast. I thought, he is too caught up in he chase. He will never stop, but my buddy caught him by the fur. There was no fight, no rending of flesh. And as the wolf came panting up to me and licked my fingers I saw his essence appear under my caressing hand. The wolf was just a manifestation of another beast, a bull with long horns and massive, rippling muscles. The long, long horns were the last of the vision to merge back into the fur, teeth and paws of the now dog friendly wolf.
I looked at our troupe, a team set for adventure; I, the wolf and she who caught the wolf for me.
We traveled on, across the snow, up and up to where the sky began. And right there I could see that only thin board separated between me and the attic of the world.
I began to tear away at the barrier. This was my task that I could do for my companions. Some of the boards came easily. Others, I had to snap and break. I was afraid to make noise because the adults would make me stop and not let me go in to the attic. I stopped for a moment peering through the hole I had made. I could see the rafters and roofing boards. I knew there would be no decorating there, no painted or plastered walls. This was liebenstraum, a place for us where we could always be together. Somehow I knew it was populated only by children. There, we could peek out upon the world.
And now I am falling asleep, writing this, but back then, I woke up and knew it was all just a dream. But some day, some night, I'll just crawl right on in and watch all you through the slits and cracks. . . you children in your awkward, earth-prohibited adult bodies. Can you hear the children laugh?

Tiger Love

I'm not very well taught in love so don't listen to me. Just skip over this to tomorrow - things will get better.

That is not to say I am incapable of love. I love fiercely, like a tiger; I love dramatically, like a torrid novel; Love bursts in me like molten lava, like Old Faithful, like Mount Saint Helens. It just don't get out very well. "In me," did you catch that - in me! Inside of me, that means, like a tiger caged, like a torrid novel unread, like Old Faithful, capped! In me. Inside of me. . .

Don't you dare say I do not love. I have had that knife nick my ribs till marrow bled. And it hurt a lot, and that tiger eventually died.

But now the tiger lives again and feels more alive than ever before!

For My Children

I've been thinking that one of the reasons I like journaling is a family thing. My dad left a lot of writing type things behind him when he died. I liked that. It helped me understand myself to come to understand him better. I realize that one of my goals in journaling is to give that kind of a gift to my children. That also is one of the reasons I don't like a rambling type journal. I want to cut to the useful meat of the matters so as not to waste other peoples time with the mundane side of my life.


I visited everyone in Eau Claire, Wis. last week. Had a chance to do some work on daughter, Bethany's house. It was a great time. I didn't get to do all the things with the grandchildren that I wanted but we had some fun times. I love being with my family. They always make me feel welcome. I was also very glad to get back to JPUSA. That doesn't mean I do not value my family enough or love JPUSA more. I wrote in a poem once that in the midst of my children - there's the real me. On the other hand being amongst a people who have taken me in, in the midst of turmoil in my life, who have given me a place of ministry alongside them, I love them too. Do I love my children because they are perfect? No. Do I love my brothers and sisters at JPUSA because they are perfect? No. It is all relationship.

Journaling

I'm starting up this journal again after reading about the value of journaling from Rick Warren's book, The Purpose Driven Life. I've started many journals and they all lasted only a short time - Either I run out of ideas or time or brain memory cells. Probably most of my ideas are too intricate. I do that a lot - make a plan that crosses all the t's and then it is to complicated and time consuming to maintain. I'm going to start at a lower level here - just write something on as many days as I can.


My turn for Sunday's sermon I am thinking of using Mary's anointing of Jesus. She was criticized for how she exercised her devotion. The point will be - Others may not agree with our kind of devotion to God but that doesn't make it wrong. There are a few tests for real devotion/Christianity. 1. Devotion must be toward Jesus. 2. Devotion must recognize who He is. 3. It may be expensive or it may be a mite. I'll see if I can extract any more from the passage.