Sharpe’s little blog

Over the past 2 weeks, with political debates and economic uncertainty, I find myself continually coming back to the sentiments of Psalm 2: “Why do the nations rage?”

The Lord in Heaven laughs
He knows what is to come
While all the chiefs of state plan their big attacks
Against His anointed One
The Church of God she will not bend her knees
To the gods of this world though they promise her peace
She stands her ground
Stands firm on the Rock
Watch their walls tumble down when she lives out His love

Where are the nails that pierced His hands
Well the nails have turned to rust
But not so the Man
He is risen
And He reigns
In the hearts of the children
Rising up in His name
Where are the thorns that drew His blood
Well the thorns have turned to dust
But behold the love
He has given
It remains
In the hearts of the children
Who will love while the nations rage
While the nations rage

I do believe that elections and economies matter very much — but whatever the outcome, God will take care of his people.

It occurred to me that those who see this page might not realize that I’m now working at Redeemer Lynchburg, and have as one of my weekly responsibilities, writing Worship Notes to prepare the congregation for the service each week.

They are updated with more regularity than this little blog.

Somehow, Lynchburg became a stop-over for my family in the past 2 days.

My parents came though during the day on Sunday on their way back from North Carolina. They had a chance to see the church service and get a little taste of Lynchburg (courtesy of the Neighbor’s Place). I also got the chance to see some pics of my dad and his family when he was a kid. I’m pretty sure he looked more like my brother as a kid than me. His dad looked a LOT like my uncle, so it fits.

My brother and his wife and son came through town this morning. I got the chance to show them the office and a little bit of the Liberty amazingness that is Ward’s Road. Greg’s comment was that you could just go on that road and eat forever. Not too far off the mark, I’d say. It was very good to hear that their trip to Richmond was successful and some of their uncertainties have come to rest. After a quick lunch, they were retracing my parents steps off to Advance, NC.

And now I’m here, in this strange little town that’s not even on a major interstate, yet somehow has become a stopover I’m calling home.

It’s sorta like golf, but with a disc. I’ve played 3 times now. It has a definite learning curve. That’s a nice way of saying that I’m terrible at it.

On the plus side, it was an amazingly beautiful day at Peak’s View Park. It’s hard to beat Virginia in the Fall.

I’m easing back into the blog world. Over the past weeks, I keep having little thoughts that I want to put a blog on — but kept putting it off because I hadn’t broken the ice yet. So, this little entry’s only purpose is to do just that: break the ice.

Nothing kills a blog like a post about paedocommunion.

I’d love to write more, and get into more regular blogging. But right now I’m getting pulled in 3 other directions: church, school, and jobs. Oh, and counseling clients.

So blogging is on the bottom of the pile right now.

Some seminary friends and I were talking the other day about ordination. And, in that first sentence, I just eliminated the interest of many people. Not only was it a seminary conversation, but it was a seminary conversation about ordination. Why anyone outside of seminary should be interested in that is beyond me. And that’s ok. Seminary breeds strange, esoteric thoughts sometimes. I want to write about them. You don’t necessarily have to read them. I’m not even going to bother to try and convince you that something good will come at the end. If you’re not interested in seminary or ordination now, this post won’t make you care about it. Go do something fun with your 12 minutes.

Anyway, we got to talking about what exceptions we were likely to take to the Westminster Standards. In the PCA, you have to say where you disagree with the Standards. For the most part, the Standards are an extremely reliable, well-written, and accurate systematic statement of true, Biblical theology. However, we also recognize that it is a non-inspired document, and therefore subject to scrutiny. For example, most ordained men in the PCA think that the Standard’s statements on Sabbath-keeping are too stringent (basically, they say that you can’t do anything fun, because the Sabbath is a solemn day). So the other guys in presbytery expect you to say that you disagree with something in the Standards. If you say that you have no differences with the Standards, it’s only proof that you’ve not read them closely.

One exception that is rising in popularity is paedo-communion, which is believing that you can give communion to children before they are accepted as church members. Someone told me once that it was the 2nd most-cited exception, behind the aforementioned sabbath exception. This surprised me, but it could be true. At the same time, it’s a rather dicey exception to take now-a-days. Paedo-communion has largely been associated with the Auburn Avenue/Federal Vision movement. To take this exception opens you to a lot of scrutiny, as many within the PCA believe that FV is a direct attack against the purity of the Gospel.

I don’t know all about that. I really don’t. I’ve been in seminary for 3 years now, and I have very little idea what the heck the FV is all about. And I don’t think it’s just me. So far as I can tell, a big part of the problem is that every critical assessment of FV that I’ve ever seen has been attacked by FV proponents, stating that the critic has completely misunderstood FV. And that might be the case. I’m not going to try to tell you that Guy Waters or Ligon Duncan has a perfect understanding of FV. But how is it that EVERY outside assessment has missed the point? Really — how many theological doctors does it take to rightly discern the thought of these guys? Maybe it’s just me being cynical, but I’m far more inclined to conclude that there is something hazy either in the thinking or the writing of the proponents, which is the major cause of the din. Yet I’ll be quick to say again that I haven’t taken the time to read up on all this myself, nor do I plan to (unless presbytery tells me to). I’d really rather spend my time learning about Islam or getting to know my agnostic/atheistic neighbors or praying for my friends than studying an esoteric theological controversy that makes sense to .002% of the world.

So why am I writing this? Well, none of my friends are FV proponents. Most of them feel similarly to me, that the whole thing makes no sense in the first place. But some of my friends were saying that they still don’t understand the traditional arguments against the practice of paedo-communion. After all, if children are members of the covenant community, as we Presbyterians readily affirm, why would we hold back the elements and means of grace from them? If we were to use Paul’s instruction about “each man discerning his heart” before he partakes, then we could never admit a mentally-retarded person to the table.

I got to thinking and wondering and asking myself why I disagree with paedo-communion. I found myself developing a reasoning that I hadn’t heard articulated before, and one that got me rather excited. So I thought I’d write it down here so that I wouldn’t forget.

To me, the big problem with paedo-communion has to do with the charge upon the elders of the church to maintain the purity of the sacraments. We refer to this in the Presbyterian church as the “fencing of the table.” The minister invites all those who trust in Christ to come to the table and commune with God and receive the blessing of His body broken and blood poured. He also warns those that refuse His Lordship to not take the elements in vain, lest they take condemnation upon themselves (again, echoing the warning from Paul). I should also back up and re-iterate that the sacraments are instituted by Christ and entrusted to the Church for the encouragement and empowering of the People of God. This is why you don’t just baptize someone, but you baptize them in a local church and into a covenant community of faith. This is why you don’t just take any bread and wine at any time and call it communion, but you partake as a community. The elders, as the under-shepherds of the church, are uniquely tasked with maintaining the purity of the sacraments and ensuring the spiritual health of the congregants such that they do not take the elements in vain.

What happens in most cases with paedo-communion is that the fathers in the family are tasked with the responsibility of maintaining the purity of the elements for their family. Instead of waiting for the elders to receive the child as an examined and recognized adult member of the community of faith, the father takes the role of ensuring that his child is ready to receive communion. And this is a huge mistake. As I stated a while back, complementarianism and Biblical male-headship does NOT mean that fathers are the same as elders in the local church. It is the responsibility of a father (and mother) to entrust that their child is raised up in the fear and love of the Lord. And it is the responsibility of the church to support them in that work. That does not mean that the father suddenly becomes the de-facto elder for that nuclear family.

It’s an old metaphor, but it bares repeating: it’s alot easier to change the direction of something that’s moving than of something that’s standing still. So often, I stay frozen rather than moving - as though inaction were morally neutral itself.

What prompted this rather odd little piece of pithy-ness? Well, I’m playing piano at chapel in the morning. My roommate has an appointment with his witch-doctor, so we were going to be down a pianist. And the 2 songs I had in mind would certainly benefit from a piano. Thing is, I’ve never led from piano before. I’ve backed up people for weddings and worship before. I’ve improvised for an hour or so at different informal socials. But I’ve never played and sang lead with a band. And I’m nervous. I really don’t think I’m very good, and I’m scared I’m going to be falling behind on the beat and the songs will turn to rhythmic mush.

Nervousness is not an ordinary thing for me. So much of me is used to playing in front of people that I’m good at telling myself that I’m not nervous, or at least it should not paralyze me. But this scares me. So I’ve been asking myself questions; like why is this such a big deal for me? This gets me in something of a spiral, where I get to wondering if the only reason why I want to play piano is to prove that I can, to impress people, to get kudos. When I get to thinking that, I think it would be a better idea for me to just stick to guitar and let the sonic space be absent rather than feed my pride.

But then I talked with my roommate, and he started telling me about how he had to just push himself out there past those fears of not being adequate. I realized how I do need to get through that if I’m going to grow as a pianist and worship leader.

That still leaves my mixed motives, doesn’t it? That’s where the metaphor comes in. I realized tonight just how much I depend on myself to fix myself and my motives before I’ll be good enough to be used by God. Which is, of course, the complete antithesis of the Gospel. It’s His job to sanctify me as I follow Him, not mine to clean up my act before I take any steps.

This stuck out to me this week as members of a worship leader list-serve I subscribe to had been talking about offertories. A member said that a young man began attending the church 2 weeks ago and was dropping hints about wanting to play an offertory, and the worship leader didn’t like the idea of providing audiences for eager performers. And much of me does agree with the worship leader. This guy sounds like he needs to check his motives.

What changed in me tonight, as I thought about that, is how quick I am to pass the buck on that. I take a second look at what I just said: that “he needs to check his motives.” And that’s sort of true. This guy probably does need to develop his character some before he is offered what may be seen as a platform in the church. But who’s responsibility is that? I confess that my first thought is that the guy needs a time-out to go and think about himself and God and whatnot and he can come back when he’s fixed his attitude. Where’s the gospel in that? Where’s the investment in community? Where’s discipleship?

I’m waking up to the ways that I give up on myself and others in the self-righteous pursuit of pure motives, and I want to repent.

My roommate has a theory. He tells me that since we watched 300 a month ago, I’ve been working out almost constantly. Balderdash, I say. I was working out before that. Besides, those guys were totally helped out by body paint and lighting. But I have been more consistent in getting to the gym in the past few weeks.

Most recently, I discovered a little site called Map My Run. Using Google Maps, it allows you to calculate the distance of your run, and from there get your pace and calorie count. I discovered that I’m close to becoming addicted to taking 5-6 mile runs at 10 at night. I’m not sure yet if that’s a good thing or a bad thing…

I remember the first time I heard Rob Bell. For those who don’t know (and didn’t just click on that link!), Rob is the pastor of Mars Hill Bible Church in Grand Rapids, which is not to be confused with Mark Driscoll’s Mars Hill Church in Seattle. My first exposure to Rob was listening to an audio recording of his first book, Velvet Elvis. The book had caused quite a stir among some of the conservative reformed watchdogs because of Rob’s rather loose interpretation many traditional doctrines, and he has been accused of devaluing the necessary importance of those doctrines.

But I’m not here to add to that fire. There are plenty of sites that are willing to do that. Happy Googling!

I remember I was talking with a friend of mine, telling him about my reaction to the book. Really, I didn’t see what Rob was saying as being so hugely dangerous like those watchdogs. And I could quickly see why Rob was becoming so popular among the 20s and 30s in evangelicalism. But there was still something that didn’t sit right - and it had everything to do with what I figured made him so popular.

As I told my friend, Rob has a very different preaching style. It’s not hugely polished. He stutters and pauses and searches for words. But he’s very genuine in that way. He sounds like he’s just talking to you — even when he’s reading the manuscript of his book. He is emotional, as his voice rises and falls and speeds and slows down. It’s obvious that he’s passionate about what he’s communicating, and wants to transfer that energy to his audience. And it’s infectious. He does it very well.

It’s probably just my cynical nature, but I quickly found myself wondering — “what if it’s just a shtick?” Because, like I said, Rob’s great at it. Since listening to his book 3 years ago, I’ve watched all the NOOMA videos, and I added his podcast to my rotation. And I realize how much of his draw for me is found in his style, and that’s not a bad thing. I think that it makes him much more effective. It communicates that the Jesus he is talking about is real and visceral and vital to his life. It communicates that he’s a real person with disappointments and hopes and relationships. It’s an amazing in-road to a generation that is cynical and disconnected and saturated with slick marketing. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t just one more example of that same slick marketing.

This seed of cynicism came back this weekend. I found out through an acquaintance’s blog that the first two episodes of TROMBONE PLAYER WANTED was available for free off of I-Tunes. TPL is a series of short management/effectiveness films by Marcus Buckingham around his Simply Strengths management plan. Never heard of Marcus? Neither had I. But my acquaintance seemed to think it was a “great resource”, and so I decided to give it a look.

To my surprise, there was the same stuttering voice, the same searching for words, the same music and subtle B-storyline being told through cut-scenes throughout the film. Marcus had the exact same shtick as Rob. To at T. I did a little searching and realized that the films were made by the same people that made the NOOMA videos, so you could easily say that Marcus just decided to copy Rob. That very well could be what’s happening. But it still crawls under my skin in an odd way. And it’s not helped by the fact that I really disagree with some of the stuff Marcus was saying - that’s a whole other thing.

To be clear, I’m not saying that I think that Rob is a fake. I’m really not. I’m saying I’m amazed at how possible it is to fake and copy what Rob does. And that makes me nervous. Thanks to post-modernism, we’er all familiar with the idea that the way you communicate is very much a part of what you communicate. And seeing Marcus — it makes me wonder who we’re fooling when you do a sylistic cut-and-paste. And why exactly would you do that in the first place?

I preached at my church for the first time this past Sunday. It was a really great experience, I got some very kind comments, and I’m excited to do it again sometime. For those interested, a link will follow once Third Mill gets it up there (and no, CKC is not on the podcast bandwagon yet). No cracks on Third Mill, since they just started offering their curriculum videos for ABSOLUTELY FREE download! So feel free to take your time, guys!

One of my main thoughts in preparing the sermon was to make sure I preached just one sermon. The classic thing that happens to seminarians when they preach is to take a 3-point sermon and make each point a 20 minute sermon unto itself. Which is bad all the way around, because not only is the congregation exhausted from too much preaching, they’ve also had far more information thrown at them than they could possibly assimilate. So I centered in on the way that participation in Sunday worship is a necessary requisite to live out what it means to be created in the Image of God.

As a result, I’ve also been thinking the past few days about some of the other sermons that would have been possible from my text (Psalm 73). I went jogging the other day and gave a listen to my counseling classmate Dave Abney’s sermon on Jacob from a couple of weeks ago. One of the profound things that Dave said in the sermon was that Israel - one who wrestles with God - was a name that all of Jacob’s descendants carried with them. Yet one of the key parts of Asaph’s envy in Psalm 73 was the desire for a life “free from struggles.” This was the appeal behind all the stuff and abundance that typified the “arrogant.” I was watching a show on cable the other day, talking about the luxurious travel homes of the rich and famous - and the main tag lines they used to describe the appeal of these places was “a simple, quiet life.”

There’s no real way to glamorize this agony. No matter how good things get, we’re still left with the knowledge that this world is not the way that it’s supposed to be. The rich chase their “quiet life,” because even the image of the dream is better than giving up on it. Addicts choose escape because the reality can feel so bleak.

Yet it is in the midst of the struggle that Jesus says “My grace is sufficient for you, and my power is made perfect in weakness.” It got me thinking about the old Negro Spiritual songs. These songs captured something of this longing, a certainty of promise, and the reality of struggle that we seldom hear in our world. Most of the time, we just hear one side - either the hardships of the present, or some great victory that has yet to be actualized.

I’ll soon be free from every trial
My body sleep in the churchyard
I’ll drop the cross of self denial
And enter on my great reward
I’m going there to see my Savior
To sing His praise forevermore

I came across this article today about Evangelicals’ growing concern for “orphan care.”

This taps into a lot of my own personal experience, having grown up in a family that brought in foster care kids. I remember being in college in a public speaking class, giving a presentation on foster care. I was really enthusiastic about the experience, if a little unreflective. Going through the counseling program has given me a lot of time to step back and think about both the blessings and the scars that came from the way I grew up. I’m still thankful, but there’s also a place where I feel a little sad for the disruptive elements that this introduced.

This article had an interesting effect on me, in light of all the self-reflection I’ve been doing over the past year. It’s gotten me out of my head for a little bit and reminded me again of the needs of the people that we served. It reminded me of the brokenness of the world that cuts you by its jagged edges when you make the decision to love. But love is what we’re called to. Love is how we heal.

Speaking of music that I’ve been into lately, my old friend Alex Mejias recently released a CD of new hymn tunes that’s really great. He had our mutual friend Justin Rosolino produce and pulled in a few session musicians from Nashville to round out the sound. It features a couple of originals from Alex and his bandmate, some nice reharmonizations of traditional tunes, and even a previously unrecorded Greg Thompson tune that’s GREAT.

Speaking of Greg Thompson (this blog is starting to resemble Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ stream-of-consciousness writing), Trinity finally added a podcast feed. That leaves 2 churches that I listen to that have yet to get on the podcast bandwagon. Sadly, Phil Smuland and the crew at Pinewood have a hard enough time just getting sermons up in the first place - much less keeping them up-to-date. But Chuck Holliday at River of Life has no such excuse.

I keep meaning to put together a post of all the podcasts that I have in my ITunes. Rather than spend forever doing an annotated list, here’s a quick run-down. Just search in ITunes and you’ll find them in no time.

Church at Brook Hills (David Platt)
Christ Church Berkeley (Johnny St. Clair and Brad Garrett)
Desiring God (John Piper)
GraceDC (Glenn Hoburg)
HCBC UT (Denny Henderson)
Imago Dei (Rick McKinley)
Mars Hill Bible Church (Rob Bell)
Mars Hill Church (Mark Driscoll)
New York Times Popcast (music reviews)
NBC Nightly News (previous night’s national news)
Paste Culture Club (music news)
Seven Rivers (Ray Cortese)
Trinity (Greg Thompson)
Village Church (Matt Chandler)

The obvious question is which of these do I listen to the most. I hate those questions. I’m going to go with my first gut reaction and say Ray Cortese and Matt Chandler are my current favs, although Rick McKinley and Greg Thompson are close behind. It’s actually been a while since I’ve listened to Driscoll or Piper. Driscoll’s files are too big to fit comfortably on my little 120MB player, and Piper’s been talking about marriage for too long (I’m single and I think about that enough already, thanks). I still listen to Bell, but he’s gotten a little tiresome this Lent, which is disappointing as last year’s series was great. Hopefully he’ll get back in swing after the whole XYZ thing gets rolling and can stop feeling like he has to hype it up every week.

For those that are wondering, I use my MP3 player almost exclusively for sermon listening. And I use it whenever I work out at the gym or jogging or whatnot. That’s how I get through about 10 or so sermons a week.

Yesterday at church we sang Bon Jovi. Apparently this is what happens when our pastor suggests a church-wide fast right before Easter. Scott played the riff a little too well. Methinks he’s been practicing that one at home for a while now. So Brad sang Jon’s part, while I screamed out my best Richie Sambora “WANTED!!” I got comments on it all throughout the church potluck that followed.

Speaking of church potluck, I was extremely impressed that this was the first church potluck I’ve been to that wasn’t overfilled with bad casseroles and fried chicken. The church got chicken, turkey, and ham from Boston Market to make up for those (of us) that “forgot” to bring something. Which kinda defeats the purpose of a potluck - but it makes for a much more enjoyable eating experience.

While we ate, I noticed that our sound tech had Sarah Masen’s Carry Us Through album. It reminded me of what an amazing CD that was, thanks in large part to some great production work by Charlie Peacock. Too bad no one ever heard it. Stupid Christian radio soccer moms.

It also got me thinking about another female singer-songwriter I’ve been listening to lately that no one’s ever heard of: Brooke Fraser. I first heard Brooke’s music from her participation with more recent Hillsong CDs. Let me back up for a second and say that I loathe Darlene. Brooke does not sound like Darlene. Because of my distaste for Darlene, I was resistant when a friend tried to get me to listen to Hillsong again. But, as I had to learn the songs for church anyway, I gave them a listen. And there’s still not that much I like from Hillsong. United is ok, but that’s because they do a good job of copying Sigur Ros musically. Lyrically, they’re a little vapid. But I found myself digging a couple of songs led by a certain girl (most notably “None But Jesus”). I did a little digging and found out that Brooke had her own CDs in New Zealand. I was really impressed. Seriously…nothing this good gets played on American “Positive Hit” stations. Surprisingly, she recorded the CD in LA, which might explain why she is able to nicely sidestep that Nashville gloss.

Give her video “Shadowfeet” a look. Then tell me why she has to live in New Zealand and not central Florida.

I hoped we would be farther by this point
You said were not already there
We’re in town for Christy’s wedding
In a place where I met you

And I don’t wanna be waiting
For the time to be right
And I dont wanna be watching
As our life passes by
And I dont wanna be wishing
I was here when I die

We don’t have to talk about what hasn’t come true
It never made a difference to our love
We can live here all of our lives
I guess we cant change where we’re from

And I don’t wanna be waiting
For the time to be right (time to be right)
And I dont wanna be watching
As our life passes by (life passes by)
And I dont wanna be wishing
I was here when I die

- “Christy’s Wedding” by The Class of ‘98

(I don’t know how much of this actually has to do with my weekend. But I did play in Christy’s wedding. And I don’t wanna be wishing I was here when I die. I don’t know where I’ll wish that I’ll be when I die. That’s a weird thought.)

I’m tempted to apologize for my blog silence over the past few weeks. I say tempted because we’ve all seen the “sorry for not posting more” blog entries, which are typically then followed by another 3+ weeks of non-blogging. Instead, I’ll preface this entry by stealing a quote that I found on the blog of Daniel Tashian (lead singer of the Bees, and maker of the incredible (and free!) Lovetest record):

“Have omitted my diary for two or three days, I lost heart to make it up, and left it unfilled for many a month and day. During this period, nothing has happened worth particular notice. The same occupations, the same amusements, the same occasional alterations of spirits, gay or depressed, the same absence of all sensible or rational cause for one or the other- I half grieve to take up my pen, and doubt if it is worth while to record such an infinite quantity of nothing. But hang it! I hate to be beat, so here goes for better behavior.”

-Sir Walter Scott

There’s also a big part of me that feels like my silence has been justified. The past few weeks have been difficult for me, and most of what’s been on my heart and mind are the type of thing that should not be communicated in a public forum like this. To catch up those who have not heard, I am no longer at Pine Ridge. I anticipate that would bring up questions, but I really don’t think that this would be the wisest forum to discuss the whys and wherefores. If you want to know, ask. I do want to say that I’ve been blessed to have some really good friends and counselors during this time that have really cared for me. God has been doing a lot of teaching and molding on me, largely because of these men. I am very thankful.

As you might expect, this season has thrown much confusion and anxiety in my face. I’ve been spending a lot of 2007 feeling like there’s something about life that I just don’t understand. As providence would have it, I am also in the midst of reading through the Prophets for a class I will be taking in March. It occurred to me that there is something very particular and interesting about the nature of the prophets: that you had these half-crazed guys screaming out to the people of God - a people that were massively diluted as to what they should be doing. The prophets were saying to Israel, “You don’t get it! True life is in repentance, not in avoidance and distraction.”

A friend in the counseling program and I got to talking a few weeks ago about the nature of faith and pain. As we were talking, I realized that I’ve had this pretty backwards for most of my life. I’d always figured that if you had faith, life would work better. Put another way, the real solution to the pain of life is to have faith. Like faith were just another opiate that will make you somehow feel better - and I’d give it a blithe title like “the peace of Christ.” It was almost as though I thought that faith in God should mean that suffering would be revealed as just another illusion.

That’s not what I believe anymore. Faith is not a way to escape pain. It’s the only way that pain makes any kind of sense. Faith is the realization that there is a pain that comes from living in a dying world. It is faith that says that there is more going on here than some sum of right and wrong decisions. There is more going on than simply a momentary discomfort that can be appeased by any of a thousand medications. The rocks and trees and grains of sand are screaming for a deeper glory. There is redemption happening in this heart, and a renewal that is pushing towards a final consummation for this whole broken world. And He is not slow, as some understand slowness to be. Christ is at work in 10,000 places all around me, weaving His global epic across all of history.

It’s this voice that I am needing to hear from the Prophets.

2007 has been an intense year so far. We’ve started out the Jan term this week with Sharon Hersh’s addictions class. It’s been great great stuff, but very tiring. A lot of really intense, hard questions about family dynamics, behaviors, longing, relief and self-destruction. I basically leave each session feeling like I totally don’t get it. Not that Sharon is a bad teacher (quite the opposite), but that there’s so much here that I’ve only scratched the surface on in my own life.

One of our assignments is to fill out a 4th step inventory (note: link is to an example, not the actual inventory we are using). The “4th step” refers to the piece of the 12-step program that this project comes from. Starting to go through this questionnaire has given me new appreciation for the kind of hard work that addicts go through to try to get and stay sober. So much of it feels so new that I just wonder what kind of hope I have entering into the counseling office, pretending like I’ll be able to help someone else - when I can barely shoulder the weight of questions like these.

Sometime yesterday I found myself remembering a song I heard years ago by Ross King. I loved his stuff in college, but he’s been lax on releasing a new singer-songwriter album in the past 3 years. His worship stuff is ok, but I really prefer his personal songs. The song “Unplowed Ground” has been a huge encouragement to me in this struggle.

It’s dryer here than ever I remember
The fields that once were green and tall are now so bare
And patience for relief has turned to anger
And joyous praise has been replaced by faithless prayer

I used to love to tend these fields for hours
And even times of drought would only serve to spur me on
Now it seems like years without a shower
And somehow my desire to grow has come and gone
This was the word to Jeremiah, but I think it applies to me
Right about now

“Break up your unplowed ground and turn your heart to Me again
Lay all your idols down, come confess your sin
I long to ease your pain and bring your fields to life once more
But I will not send My rain until you make Me Lord”

A vineyard ripe with blessing now surrounds me
And every harvest so much more than I’d hoped for
But as the fruit increases all around me
I see how fat I am and I’m still wanting more
This was the word God gave Hosea but I think it applies to me
Right about now

“Break up your unplowed ground; have you so soon forgotten Me?
I cannot watch you bow at the altar of prosperity
I long to shower down and see our love affair restored
So break up your unplowed ground, it’s time to seek the Lord”

Habits turn to cycles turn to seasons, and seasons turn to years before we know
We lay still alive but barely breathing, and we whisper, “That’s just the way it goes,”
But the Lord says, “No”

“Break up your unplowed ground, and you will find a treasure
Sell everything you own to buy what can’t be measured
I long to lay you down in richer fields than you have known
So break up your unplowed ground and make this land your home.”

I love that last chorus. One profound thing Sharon pointed out at one point in class is that, according to Jesus’ parable, you don’t buy the treasure. The treasure is worth far too much to be bought. You buy the field, by selling everything you own, and then you can dig up the treasure. I love how Ross ends the song, with the voice of the Lord calling the Christian to “make this land your home.” This life that He has created and placed me in is exactly where He wants me. There’s a strange promise that the richer fields are found right where He has me. It is not mine to dream of escape or ideals, but to be faithful with what He has provided. It’s hard for me to give up that control, but it’s the only thing that’s really true.

I feel the need to start this little entry with a qualifier…this is totally half-formed and I’m not quite sure what I’m talking about. It’s very possible that I will look back on this in a couple of days/hours and decide that what I wrote was horribly naive and I’ll trash it. But I need to get it out of my head and onto paper just to check.

To start out, I’ve been thinking about ethics lately. I’m signed up to take a class on pastoral and social ethics, required as a part of my MDiv. Because I’m taking a ton of credits in week-long intensives this month, I got a jump on some of the reading over the two-week break. The first thing I read was Can We Be Good Without God by Paul Chamberlain. My opinion: it’s a decent book that totally fails to answer the question of the title. Unpacking this will lead into what I’m thinking about.

Chamberlain’s book is set in the context of a conversation between 5 people that mysteriously meet and chat about ethics. A thrilling narrative framework, to be sure. More accurately, they talk about the theory of ethics: whether there’s such a thing as objective moral standards and how such standards can be substantiated. The “characters” are really just talking heads for philosophical viewpoints, wholly devoid of personality. And, of course, the Christian is the genius that is able to ask quasi-fascinating questions that winsomely convince the other participants that they were complete idiots for ever doubting Biblical monotheism. Yes, the book was that paper-thin. That said, the arguments outlined were very well-constructed and helpful as an apologetic. I just didn’t care.

The point that I found most interesting is the point that all of these ethics books seem to concede from the outset: that we keep failing at being good. Chamberlain’s book is not about the ability to be good, but how do we define and defend an understanding of good. Even then, there is no attempt to be specific about what is good or bad, beyond the obvious and too-oft-cited examples of Mother Theresa and the Nazis (respectively, of course). It’s great to be able to define these things, but somehow I doubt that there was ever that much ambiguity about the good qualities of Mother Theresa and the bad qualities of the Nazis.

But what about a question where there is ambiguity? How do you make an ethical decision about right and wrong, and what’s the difference? Is every decision ultimately a right and a wrong thing, or are there some checklist that moves something from a subjective call to a moral predicament.

Maybe some examples would help… My roommate came home today after making a stop by Wal-Mart. Outside, he ran into a homeless guy that was asking for food. My roommate had just bought a tray of wings, and so he offered some to the guy. The homeless guy brushed off my roommate, refusing the offer. What is that? Is that right, or wrong? Is it one of those “at least you tried”-kind of moments?

Example 2: I got back into town this past Friday only to find out that my car wouldn’t start. The power was working, but the engine would not turn over, and was making a sound like death. The AAA guy came to tow it and gave it a listen, and thought it could be the timing belt. My stomach went into my sneakers. I could have sworn I’d had the timing belt replaced at 90K, and that was only 3 years and 30K ago. In my mind, I vexed myself for being so foolish, for letting this happen. The right thing to do would be to double check and make sure that all my maintenance was up-to-date. (aside: it wasn’t the timing belt, I did have it replaced on schedule; it was a fuel sensor, praise Jesus).

Example 3: I’m passively shopping around for a new MP3 player. Since it’s a pretty big investment (and I’m anal to begin with) I’ve been reading a bunch of user reviews off Amazon, CNet, and other online shops. As anyone who’s ever read these reviews knows, they’re classically unhelpful. Most of them are people who just bought the product 3 days ago screaming about how they either love the pretty colors, or hate that it didn’t come with an AC adapter (or bitter because they got the lemon). They’re always on one side of the spectrum or the other: absolutely loving the thing or hating it. It was either the right decision and they’re uproariously happy, or the wrong decision and they’ve got nothing but regret (and an expensive paperweight). But is that an ethical thing? Most would say no, but how is the exercise of wisdom that much different?

I think what’s tripping me up the most about the nature of ethics has less to do with ethics and more to do with justice. I want to believe that if I or my friends or someone else does the right thing, good things will come of it. If I do the wrong thing, bad things will come. So when good things or bad things come, I can trace them back to some volitional decision I made, because the world is a just place.

But that’s not the way life works. I think of all the different ways that I could associate this to counseling, and my mind boggles and my eyes begin to water. A young healthy couple that tries everything they can think of and can’t conceive. A man who finally breaks his addiction to alcohol only for his marriage to end in divorce. Parents who try to raise their kids in the fear and admonition of the Lord, only to find out they’ve gone wild upon leaving for college. An elderly person watching their body and mind deteriorate from age.

But then I think again about the ways that this lines up with my life. So much of my preoccupation with right and wrong seems really pretty selfish. I want to know that what I’m doing is the right thing primarily so that I can insulate myself, and protect myself from anything going wrong. I want to protect myself from the pain of regret. If I do the right thing, then I can have a degree of certainty that things will work out for me. At very least, I’ll never be the bad guy. Maybe I’ll never have to feel pain. Of course, that also doubles back to mean that when things go wrong, I have no one to blame but myself.

If that sounds familiar, it’s called Karma. It’s a deadly lie that I seem to tell myself every day. The fact is that the world is a lot bigger than me, and God is doing far bigger things than I can imagine - in, around, through, and in spite of me. I don’t have to be in control of this whole thing, because I never was to start. Grace is love’s grand interruption, as Bono and Matt Chandler have pointed out. And I’m holding on to the hope that this promise is still true.

There’s totally a song in there somewhere…

Wow. I got through all of December without posting a thing. That’s amazing. But not very surprising.

It’s obvious to most Christians that Christmas is a pretty big deal every year. What I didn’t appreciate until this year is how much work goes into every December. I’m really thankful to say that we had a pretty special Christmas time at Pine Ridge this past year, but I think I also have a much better expectation for what it’s going to look like next year. Honestly, it has me excited for what we can do with the resources we have, many of which I didn’t even know about until this past month. Already I’ve got little dreams and ideas that I want to capture and develop so that 2007’s programs are even better than those of 2006.

This past week has been really exciting and exhausting. I’ve been at home with my parents, getting to visit with my older brother, his wife, and my little nephew Noah. All this family stuff is really exciting, but I get to the end of the day and wonder where all the time disappeared to. It’s a good thing I didn’t make more New Years Resolutions, because I’d already be breaking them.

Speaking of New Years Resolutions, I’d like to update this little blog more often, but I’m not going to go so far as to make it a resolution or anything. That would be foolish, because - like I said - I know I’d break it. I’d rather just do it, or not do it, and let it develop as it does. Maybe that sounds like too much resignation, but it feels accurate to me for right now.

The other song that I mentioned I working on a few weeks ago is now posted on the Reformation Drive MySpace.

This song is for some friends of mine that recently adopted a little girl from Ethiopia. They chose to name her Salem, which means “peace.” They chose this name before they’d even received their call, and before their little girl was even born. This idea impressed me - that parents would pray for their child by name before she was even born. A song began in the back of my mind. The parents kept a web journal going with their reflections and experiences through the long process of international adoption. In writing the lyrics for this song, I borrowed and adapted quite a few of the thoughts from these journals. When they finally received the call, they found out that the little girl’s given name was Ethiopian for “they are longing for you”. What an amazingly appropriate name that screams with poetry.

About a week and a half ago, I had the chance to go with most all of my fellow counseling students to welcome the now-complete family to Florida. It was an amazing day. I went home that afternoon and finally finished up the music and lyrics for this song, and recorded this demo.

Salem

Before you were born your parents prayed for you by name
A long time waiting for the process of waiting to begin again
So they take these anxious hopes and hold them up to God
Sometimes even perfect plans can seem to take so long

They are longing for you…
Salem, come home soon