VillagePastor

New Blog Site

Thank you so much for reading my blog for these past years. I have some exciting news. Recently, I moved to a new blogging platform that is simpler and easier to use. To visit the new site, please head towards www.drjohnejohnson.com. From now on to see any new posts, please visit the new site, as this one will not continue to be updated.

Those Even Stranger Divine Curves

So, to complete the last post, I was released from medical incarceration Wednesday night. I was given civilian clothes to replace the medical gown. Why they designed these without backs, and with ties that are next to impossible to get to, escapes me. It’s part of the humiliation, which is good for all of us. I should add that shortly before departure they lifted the embargo and gave me gelatin and a peach smoothie. Perhaps this was out of guilt, but I don’t think so.

I had to deal with muscles that were already in atrophy mode. It’s amazing how unforgiving they are. Two days of inattention, and they start wilting like old celery stalks. The nurse wanted someone to take me out in a wheelchair, and they insisted someone pick me up. No wonder my Nike fuel band had fallen into a deep sleep. Tuesday and Wednesday, it did not even register in the red zone. But once I got my visa and papers, and once the nurse was distracted, I bolted to my car and headed for the gym. It felt really good.

But I must admit that when you are given the news that the doctors have found a mass in your pancreas, it suddenly turns your world upside down. It may turn out to be nothing—or it may be something significant. It’s hard to describe the emotions. It’s like you have been on a freeway cruising at 70, and suddenly the traffic stops. At least it slows down.

It’s giving me some time to think. I’ve often been guilty of trying to do too much. It’s part of the reason I have often been late, irritating others. I have this bad habit of trying to figure out one more thing to do. But now, life feels a bit on hold. I have all of these goals on a white board. There is the sermon schedule on the other. There is this book I have been working on, this cabin I am trying to get up to, this… And in the midst of it all, there is God saying, “Your life is in My hands.”  So today, I await a pathology report. The internal medicine people were not real positive, but maybe they have to do this. There are so many liabilities to cover in the medical establishment, that they have probably been sued in the past for falsifying hopes. All along, I have been a mystery to them. My initial lab tests have come out clear. The calcification on my pancreas suggests that I have been a serial drinker. But the only thing I have been drinking, as of late, is Zipfizz. The other reason for the chronic pancreatitis is idiopathic, meaning it is peculiar to the person. I am going with this one. It explains everything!

In all of this, God is faithful. Part of my practice has been the One Year Bible, something I have done for some 35 years. Often, the passages are timely. This was yesterday: “Out of a bad report, he is not afraid. Established is his heart, having trusted in the Lord” (Ps 112:7). Can you believe His good timing?! This is God saying to any of us who receive unexpected news, that even should it not be so great, there is no need to fear it. But you will, if you are not trusting in the Lord, which firms up the heart. So while I am watching my diet (no more McMenamins for a while), it’s the heart I have to give my best attention to.

Those Strange Divine Curves

 I was all set to write a new post today. All set to post something related to what I am reading (Hearing God, Skeptical Believer, Day of Battle are some of my current reads). Or post an experience (like hearing from both a Palestinian believer and an unbelieving Jewish lawyer Sunday nite). But a deep and, sometimes, unnerving pain in the upper region of my abdomen changed all of this, so I am posting from the hospital tonight.

As a pastor, I am fairly acquainted with these places. Over thirty years, I have come at all times of the day and night to visit people in all kinds of conditions. Many I have forgotten, but some stand out, like the man who had prostate surgery and wanted me to see it. I can't quite explain this, but I have found certain people like to show off their "wounds of battle". Others are far more private. I could not enter a room of a friend dying of cancer because he was required to take off his toupee. Sadly, he was more concerned with appearance than with comfort.

So it is a bit odd being on the other side. It is giving me a whole new appreciation of what people go through. I was in the emergency room for most of today, and I discovered that time slows down to an ice flow pace in ER (for patients). When doctors or nurses say they will be back in, say, 5 minutes, always multiply the number by four. They mean well, but ER is the ultimate setting of unpredictability. You are the center of attention for a fleeting moment. Suddenly a man comes in with appendicitis or a teen ager with a bullet wound, or a woman with a crab leg stuck in her throat (or something more traumatic). If you have to go, you cross your legs and wait for fear they will come by and you are gone—and then it could be hours, or days. These professionals are the ultimate multi-taskers (which is scary, given that books about the brain tell us multi tasking immediately reduces the brain from Einstein to Alfred E Neuman levels).

I've also discovered that medical people have to cover their backs. Bad attorneys and bad doctors have something to do with this. So they have been constantly checking in to see that I have been treated well. My vital signs are checked on the hour. No getting out of bed without getting the nurses' permission. Rails have to be up in case I roll out of bed. I am asked about everything. Have I touched latex gloves? Do I have an advanced directive? (this is comforting). Do I have difficulty swallowing? Would you like to take something for pneumonia? Do my stools tend to float or sink (I am not kidding). They get very personal.

The one good thing about an emergency room or hospital stay is that you have a great excuse to get out of practically everything. The calendar is cleared. No one is disappointed with you that an assistant had to cancel an appointment. I will miss an elder meeting tonight, and no one will question my loyalty. "Hospital" explains everything. It's the ultimate hall pass. No putting out the trash tonight. Heather's To Do List is put on hold. "In the hospital" silences all expectations.

So I am going to milk this divine interruption for everything I can get. I am choosing (for today anyway) to use the rest of it as a sort of retreat. Being on the seventh floor, I have a view of Forest Heights. I requested an ocean view, but they were taken. I am looking forward to the menu. I am thinking Salmon might be a good choice, along with rice pilaf, seared asparagus tips, and peach cobbler, washed down with some Cranberry juice on the rocks. I am not sure of the offerings, but I am sure there has been an upgrade from the beef bullion broth and orange gelatin diet I was served in a brief stay when I was a kid.

Sadly, the nurse just came in and wrote NPO (nil per os--Latin for "Nothing by Mouth") on the white board. So much for the retreat idea. I will just look at the IV drip and the mouth sponge and pretend they are delicious. And prepare for a long night of constant interruptions. Yes Lord, I promise to be a more empathetic pastor in the future.

Whose Courage to Come Out?

For some time, I have chosen to not engage in the homosexual debate on my blog. Not because I have no opinion, nor because I don’t care, nor because I am afraid of being labeled. My views are probably predictable anyway, given I am an evangelical pastor. But, to use Gladwell’s words, there comes a tipping point, and for me, it was this week, with Jason Collin’s announcement that he is gay. It wasn’t his announcement that pushed me to the edge (he isn’t an NBA player I have necessarily followed). It wasn’t even the media’s rush to make it their headline, praising his courage to speak out (even though there are so many other far more reaching issues that deserve headlines, e.g. the trial of Kermit Gosnell, the doctor who has murdered numerous babies, some born alive. Ironic this has been shoved to the back of the news). Nor was it the President’s decision to call and affirm Collin’s boldness (is this what it takes to get a call from the White House?). It wasn’t even ESPN’s decision to apologize for sports analyst Chris Broussard’s opinion that Collin’s lifestyle is wrong (nice to see someone take a stand that goes against the grain—see “A Sportscaster Comes Out as a Christian”, Neumayr).

It was the combination of all of the above that moved me to write today (along with a sustained silence by so many others who seem to accept that this is all okay). How did we get to a place in culture where one’s sexual behavior has become an issue of civil rights? That one who is openly gay gets national, even presidential attention and commendation? How is it we have decided that anyone who is not politically correct, who has a dissenting voice, is no longer worth listening to? What has happened to critical thinking? We have either forgotten or chosen to ignore some things.

First, behind our decisions there is some authoritative voice that drives them. Is it ourselves? Is it God? Does the Word of God have any role? If one is inclined to place his/her life under Scripture, here are some inescapable conclusions that seem to be disregarded, or conveniently explained away by some:

1. While the Bible gives little discussion to homosexual behavior, in the few passages where it is mentioned, Scripture is unambiguous and univocal in its condemnation of homosexual conduct
   • the holiness code of Leviticus explicitly prohibits male sexual intercourse (18:22; 20:13). Not that this settles the question, for the code also condemns certain dietary practices
   • in certain NT lists of behaviors that are described as contrary to the moral will of God, reprehensible to God, homosexual acts are included (I Cor 6:9-11; I Tim 1:10)
   • Rom 1:18-32 describes the human condition in a fallen world, listing homosexuality as one of the consequences of God’s judgment for dishonoring God.
2. Scripture is unambiguous and univocal in its definition of marriage. From Genesis to Revelation, marriage is described as a covenant between a man and a woman. Marriage was designed and ordained by the Creator, not the Constitution. Sexual desires find their rightful fulfillment only in a heterosexual context, and only after a man and a woman have entered into a life-long covenant  (Gen 2:22;  Mark 10:2-9; I Thess 4:3-8; I Cor 7:1-9; Eph 5:21-33; Hebrews 13:4). There is no account of homosexual marriage, let alone homosexual Christians, or same sex lovers in the Bible.
3. From the standpoint of Scripture, sexual conduct is not a private matter between consenting adults. Whatever we do affects the body of Christ. Hence, God calls us to glorify Him with our bodies (I Cor 6:15-20). Sexual misbehavior, either heterosexual or homosexual, dishonors God and His design for creation, and impacts the lives of others.
4. Scripture also affirms the civil rights of everyone. For the believer, the gay issue is not about civil rights. We are all made in the image of God; we all have dignity; we all have rights. This should never be questioned. But this does not mean we have the right to redefine marriage, or redefine what is sexually appropriate.

Second, if one is not inclined to follow the authority of Scripture, then one has placed himself/herself as the ultimate authority for belief and practice. And when this happens, who is to say any sexual practice, or any definition of marriage is right or wrong?  Who chooses the guidelines? Who determines the boundaries of diversity? Is it a matter of majority rules?  Does the church have any say? When the state determines the values of a culture, at the expense of the church, society is on a perilous course.

Third, to agree with the above statements does not mean one is necessarily homophobic nor hateful, nor hopelessly behind the times. It’s easy for those who disagree to dismiss this point of view in this way, but it lacks credibility. Speaking for myself, and most Christians I know, there is no fear of people who are openly gay or supportive of gay rights. It is actually offensive to say that there is fear, for this suggests we have no courage.  Nor is there hate. I would never discourage a gay person from attending our church. I would never withhold the same grace God has shown to me for my own failures. Nor do I see homosexuality as some unpardonable sin. I wish to have no alignment with people who are condemning and hateful of others because of their sexual orientation. I am also not interested in trying to be contemporary, current, relevant, at the expense of my faith. I am far more comfortable with what was written in 970 BC or 95 AD than I am with much of what is written in 2013.

Syria is Coming Apart - Should We Care?

I was sitting in a pastor’s office in downtown Beirut last Friday, when a physician walked in. As we struck up a conversation, I discovered he was a Syrian pediatrician. He was not on holiday. Like many Syrians in Lebanon, he has no place to go. He and his family have fled the war for the sake of their lives and their future. They have lost everything. As he shared, he stepped aside from time to time to cry. It was heart-breaking!

As we talked, I began to hear a side to the conflict, one often lost in the papers I read. Having been to Syria several times myself, I have found the Assad regime to be despotic and constricting, sapping the human spirit and hindering the freedom of many, including the church.  His authoritarian state and its Mukhabarat have snuffed out creativity and discussion. So I have hoped the present civil war might lead to a better future, though its present effects break the heart. Listening to this Christian pediatrician, it was clear he had a different view. So I asked him this question: “If you could speak to my church, what would you say?” Here’s what he said—

“You need to know that there are 23 million people in Syria, and most are suffering. The war has torn Syria apart (see a recent Economist cover story, “Syria-The Death of a Country”). Many are without electricity, food, and water. Much of infrastructure (power plants, water supplies, food stores) has been destroyed.  Homes, factories, schools, and hospitals have been razed. Second, those referred to in most Western papers as “rebels”, “freedom fighters”, and “revolutionaries” are nothing more than terrorists. They are mostly Islamic groups, as dangerous to the West as they are to the Arab world, who are interested in gaining control. Jihadists are arriving in Syria every day to join them. Third, if and when they gain the upper hand, it will be chaos. It will also be a disaster for the Christians (just as in Iraq). The church will be persecuted and driven out. Assad, leading a minority government, has been committed to protecting minorities. But with his removal, such security will be gone.”

Maybe there is some truth to this. As Thomas Friedman noted in a recent column, if Syria disintegrates, it could be another Afghanistan—an untamed land, with jihadists, chemical weapons, and surface to air missiles all freely floating about. But speaking to another believer, one very familiar with the conflict and lives in the region, there is another side to this. This is what he would say to our church—

“It is necessary to think historically. Many of these Mideast nations were created artificially, their lines drawn after last century’s world wars. The only way to keep the tribes in order, with all of their social and religious differences, was to have strong men in place. But these men, like Assad,  are coming to their necessary end, and tribes, fueled by ever increasing religious passions, are reasserting themselves. Islamic governments may replace them and rule for a season, but people will eventually turn against them. This is playing out in Egypt, where the Muslim Brotherhood has overreached for power and control. Extreme Islamic leaders have no room to share power with others. So in the process, it is depriving itself of a broad base to sustain it.

Hence, it may take another ten years of fighting in Syria, with an Islamic government eventually taking hold. But people will push back, and Christians might emerge with a stronger voice and a better future under a government that eventually becomes more representative. Syria will be harder to put back together after the war, and so it may also emerge as several nations. Under a Saddam and a Mubarak and an Assad, the church has had a certain security, but at the price of freely sharing a gospel witness, of having the ability to grow. At best, it could only maintain the status quo, be confined into a rigid box.( I saw this first hand, especially in Damascus where Christians I met each time felt very tentative to publically identify their faith.)  So this conflict may be necessary and long. But in the end, it may lead to a much better future for the church. Revolutions are always messy, always a process, and often necessary.”

So here’s what I am asking--what should the church (our church) do in the meantime? Here are three things that stand out: First, we must pray fervently for God’s will in the region. Pray for those who have lost family members. Nearly 100,000, mostly civilians, have been killed in the fighting so far.  Pray especially for our brothers and sisters in the church, many who have lost everything. Pray for godly leaders to emerge. Pray for the impressive ministries emerging to Muslims. I am seeing this firsthand, as I work with believers in Lebanon. In our collaborative work with a number of ministry partners, nearly three fourths of them are actively doing this ministry right now.

Second, contribute to the humanitarian need. Groups like Heart for Lebanon are doing an impressive work, distributing food, and looking for powerful ways to also share the good news of Jesus. But they cannot do this without our help.

Third, be a voice for justice. Be the conscience of our government. Speak up for the rights of the church. Keep the welfare of believers before Congressmen and Senators, who are inclined to think only geopolitically (what’s best in America’s interests? How can we work to see a weakened Syria counter a stronger Iran or a Russian influence?). We must keep in front of them the rights of the persecuted.  If we as the church don’t speak up, who will?

Trip from Hell

I was sharing a "trip from hell" with a business consultant from London yesterday. He lives in London and travels all over the world consulting the very top corporations (Gerber, Unilever, Frito-Lay, the UN, etc). We met here in Beirut, where he has given generously of his time the past three days to help guide Near East Initiative. I mentioned that I had flown into Heathrow a few years ago, traveling on to Cobham.  But missing my exit, which is 15 minutes from the airport, I drove on for six hours on ring roads around London that never let you off. This included a 125 dollar ticket for cramming six of us in a five seat car. It was anything but heaven.

Today we traveled to the Beka Valley, and though it did not take six hours, it was its own hell. Scattered throughout the valley are refugee camps set up to accommodate Syrian refugees. Many Syrians are spilling over the borders in the hopes of escaping the civil war. It is heart breaking to see people who have left homes and careers, existing in 8x8 structures made of cardboard and whatever scraps one can find. Most have planted their families on dirt roads criss-crossing farmers' fields.

For just a few moments, I joined Heart for Lebanon to help distribute soap and oil and other basic supplies in one of the camps. The truck brings supplies to four other camps. These are mini tent cities that are not under the radar of UN or other major relief agencies. These are the poorest of the poor, rural peoples from Syria who have no connections and have little hope. Fathers are sometimes so desperate they sell their kids. It's heart breaking.

Riding with Bashir, an impressive young man who has come back to his rural village to invest the rest of his life, we go through numerous military check points. Security forces are all around to guard against arm smuggling, etc. But there are other obstacles that are more formidable. Among the largest are a lack of funds. These deliveries come only once a month to each of the camps because there have a lack of resources to pay for supplies. Displaced Syrians compete with displaced Iraqis and displaced Palestinians for humanitarian help in this part of the world. Lebanon is overwhelmed, which is part of the reason our church is committed to partnering with the church in Lebanon.

Tragically, the other part of the hell here is that Heart for Lebanon has to deal with, of all obstacles, the church. Some area pastors are not so willing to help with warehousing the supplies, providing space for workers. It all impedes space, not to mention it can be messy and noisy and upsetting. Crazy, huh?

I can't be too judgmental. What would I do if all of this was on my door step? But in one sense, it is. I don't have to cross the ocean to find human need. And suburban churches can be good at avoiding the messiness of urban centers. I wonder how all of this will play out in the Beka. What will happen in Syria? What has happened to the brothers and sisters I have spent time with in Damascus and Sweda and Aleppo? I know this. We have to be in this together–on our knees daily, calling for justice, linking arms, being compassionate, and being more passionate to share the gospel.

 

 

Speaking of Dying

Two days ago, we placed Heather's dad in hospice. It was an intentional shift from extending life medically to preparing for one's homegoing, making his passage as comfortable as possible. Instead of seeking one more opinion, one more medication, and one more procedure, making comfortable is now the best therapy of all. It has been a long and arduous journey for the family, especially for dad. And while some of you can identify with this, the reality is that every dying is a unique journey. There is no real predictable pattern. I have observed this as a pastor. There is no set itinerary. Each person's dying has its own time table, its drama, its conflicts, humor, anguish, joy, and sadness.

Through this inevitable experience sons and daughters face, I have been reminded that we do  not do death so well. Our personal eschatology and our behavior do not always match up. There is an absence of a good theology of dying because we have not incorporated the reality of dying into our faith. Like culture, we often live in denial. We believe in heaven, but seem to do everything we can to avoid the transition. We invest lots of resources to prolong the appearance of youth, pursue the next miracle drug.

I sometimes liken our transition to presently living in Somalia, and death representing a plane on the tarmac waiting to take us to Hawaii. And yet, we hang on to Somalia. When healing does not happen, we too quickly chalk it up as a failure of faith. When cancer takes someone in the church, or a child dies in the womb, we usually treat these as a tragedy. And in some respects, they are.  But I wonder how it looks from the other side? Do we hang on too hard?

Fred Craddock, in his most recent book, Speaking of Dying, comments that it is "astonishing that religious people in the US seem to be the ones most enamored of extensive medical support in the last days of life." He also believes the church, in particular, has lost its way, lost its voice. The church is often absent from "the local geography of dying."  It has, in the main, capitulated to the secular narrative. Like too many families, it has outsourced its necessary ministry of care to the dying to the medical establishment. Someone else can provide the primary care for the person awaiting death.

There's lots to be said for modern medicine. It's amazing what technology is doing. But there is a downside. Medical science has elongated, postponed the experience of dying, removing it from view. In too many cases, medical staff, church, family, friends, and patient agree to behave as though the patient were not dying. And all of this creates huge tensions.

We have experienced these with dad. He has been given 94 years, but it has been obvious for some time he has been on a decline. Complicating this was a recent stroke. Initially, we were on a rehab course. Dying was not in the vocabulary. The result has been an extensive use of medical procedures, longer hospital stays, running from one option to another. We have had to stop and ask ourselves, 'What are we doing?" Have we bought into the secular faith that says dying is an illness and we can overcome any threat?

The reality, as Craddock notes, is that life is not a gift that lasts forever. It is fragile and its length is not up to any of us—only its quality. What he advocates at the end of his book is a good dying. Watching all of this with dad, I can only hope my dying one day will be good. This will require that everyone involved honors the limitations of extreme health interventions. This will mean that family and church are not on the sidelines, but in the center, providing the best support. It will mean, on my part, the very best living—for to live well is to hopefully die well. Hopefully, I can come to the same place of the apostle Paul—"To live is Christ—to die is gain."

 

 

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Dealing With Habits

Returning to the Headwaters

I am sitting here in the airport at Athens. It is actually quite impressive, though I am finding most airports feel the same anymore. The same smells, the same music track, the same public announcements, and the same security. I could be in Chicago or Amsterdam, for all I know. That is, until I walk by the kiosk with the freshly made baklava. Then I know I am still in Greece. But not for long. The study tour heads for Rome, where we will follow Paul's journey all the way to his death.

It has been seven days here in Greece, and my brain is stuffed. Each day we have crammed our minds with new insights, much like a first time tourist squeezes every last bit of space in a suitcase with trinkets. My eyes are overworked from the constant images. My memory is near capacity, thinking about Socrates and Aristotle, Macedonian and Mycenaean cultures, Roman military buildings in Philippi and Greek theatres in Corinth, orthodox monasteries on towering rocks and underground tombs in Berea, Zeus and Athena, and Paul and Luke.  I hope I can contain what Rome has to teach me.

I am convinced that visiting Greece is just as valuable as a journey to Israel. Gaining an understanding of the Biblical text by seeing through a Hellenistic lens makes a significant difference in how one reads John 1, Acts 17, or I Corinthians 11. It's only when you stand at the bema in Corinth do you begin to get a sense of final judgment. Looking at how the Jewish people lived in Berea explains why the Bereans were more noble minded. Sitting at Delphi, where the world came to get an oracle from a priestess (inspired by the holy waters and the strange vapors she inhaled from the center of the earth) suddenly makes Proverbs 9 come to life. Standing at the harbor of Crenchrea, one can more fully imagine Paul's formidable journeys at sea. Exploring ancient hospitals in Greece which included a theatre, a temple, and a gymnasium, you realize an ancient philosophy of healing that was ahead of our time. When people needed repair, it was holistic in every way.

These are mere snippets. What you begin to see is that so much of the culture we live in today is rooted in a Grecian setting. Not only was democracy birthed here. Theatre had its beginning in this place. Tragedy and comedy find their roots in the Greek stage (only they weren't for amusement as much as to provoke thought and teach virtue). The philosophies that explain so much of our worldview came to life in this region of the world. Europe was birthed in Mycenae.

Sadly, part of the reason for so much spiritual deadness in this part of the world is explained here as well. The early emperors of Christendom decreed that citizens come to Christ or have their heads cut off. It's little wonder the vast number of people today are Christians in name only. Thanks to those rulers who followed Constantine, all too many in Europe embraced Jesus only to keep their jobs or their lives, and this kind of minimalist faith has passed from one generation to the next.

It is not an overstatement to say that Greece served as a kind of John the Baptist. Much of what the philosophers wrote laid the foundation for Jesus. Many of the stories in Greek myth prefigured the stories in the Scriptures. The idea that God came to release us from death was already told with the gods going to Hades to release the prisoners. The idea of God as the "I am", as the living water, the king priest--each was fully in force here. The belief that God lives within us was already espoused in Corinth, where men engaged in intercourse with temple prostitutes, believing that to enter their bodies was to enter into the temple of Aphrodite.

The difference is that the biblical text brings all of these to full and ultimate expression.  Jesus is the ultimate answer to the philosophical question, the ultimate experience of God. By His grace, He has removed the times of ignorance.

Without a Future

Just outside of Thessaloniki, we are headed east towards Kavala and Philippi. It is our first full day on a study tour following the route of the Apostle Paul. We will start at the port that was once known as
Neapolis and work our way back, heading down to Berea and Meteora, and eventually to Delphi, Athens, Corinth, and end up in Rome, where Paul gave his life for the gospel.

Greece is a different country than the one I first visited in the late 90's. There is a sense of despair. One of the tell tale signs is the absence of cars on the road. Few can be found, as gasoline has become very expensive, and not so many have the resources to drive much. The other indicator is the graffiti that is on so many buildings and on nearly every road sign. It might be art (a few years ago artists defended the right to use graffiti as artistic expression). To me, it is a defacing of property, a despoiling that seems to be more a statement of rage and anger. When I asked our Greek guide his hope for the future, he responded, "Hope? What hope?"

Like much of Europe, the nation is bankrupt. I was reading the International Herald Tribune on the flight from Frankfurt, and I noticed an article entitled "No Bottom in Greece After 5 Years."  It compared the present situation here to the Great Depression of 1929 in America and lamented that the Greeks can only wish they had it so good. Here, unemployment is nearly thirty per cent. In almost every economic indicator, the graphs reveal a persistent gloom. According to our guide, who is a brilliant historian, it is reminiscent of the late 1930's. He fears that Europe, as a whole, is in a slide that will not turn around. Few seem to want to give up deeply entrenched rights, even if it means bringing the economy down with them. There does not seem to be enough incentive to change the structures that created this mess. It serves as a warning to us in the States who face a growing, similar despair.

I cannot help but wonder where the church is in all of this. Just as in our nation, this is the time for the church to be the salt that keeps a nation from decaying, the light that shows the way through the darkness. Where's the leadership that rises with a moral voice to call people back to God, back to humility, back to righteousness, back to beauty, and away from greed? Ninety-eight per cent of the country identifies itself as Greek Orthodox, but it's impact on culture seems to be minimal at best. Like so many other countries in Europe and the West, only a small percentage "practice" their faith (i.e. attend a religious service). But even this does not guarantee that one is a true follower of Jesus. My guess is that there are few who truly follow Christ, consider themselves as disciples committed to hearing from God and following His will. Not so many "demonstrate God's holiness," something that kept Moses from entering the land (Num 27:14). Not so many fear God; not so many love God. As Platt puts it in his newest book, "we have minimized Jesus' summons to total abandonment."

It's much like a conversation that I had with a young man named Robert in 1998. I was flying from Stavanger, Norway back to Amsterdam, sitting next to this man wearing his Hell's Angel leather jacket. Robert was a truck driver who was taking time off to go to a Hell's Angel's Convention in Amsterdam (I try not to imagine what that must have been like). I asked Robert where he stood with God. He described himself as a Lutheran. Whether he was a practicing Lutheran, I do not know. I do remember this, that when I asked him why he wore a jacket that proudly wore the symbols of the anti-Christ, Robert saw no disconnect with his Lutheran identity. Given what he wore, I asked Robert if he hated God. He was quick to say no. But when I asked him if he loved God, he had no answer. It's only a guess, but if I asked the same question here, I would likely get a similar response. And at the root of the hopelessness, the depression, the lifelessness that describes this place--is the absence of such an affection.

Dealing With Habits

One of my habits is to regularly write a post for this blog site. I am, after all, a mass of habits. I would like to think that my daily choices are the products of well-considered decision making, but as Charles Duhigg notes in his book, The Power of Habit, they are not. They are the result of patterns, many of which are ingrained and have become automatic over time.

Every Monday and Thursday I am on Highway 26 by 6:25 am, listening to Dan Patrick and the latest in sports news, with a tendency to stay in the right lane. I cross the Markham Bridge, take the 58th exit, drive south on SE 60th to Hawthorne Blvd, head for the seminary parking lot, and park in the same space at the same SE corner next to the same large tree. People are so used to this that some avoid parking in this spot on these two days.

I do this because, as with most routines, I don’t have to think so much. As I have observed in myself and others (particularly my kids!), the brain is constantly looking for ways to save effort. And that might be okay for driving to seminary, but some habits are not okay. There is this habit to search for something sweet each night around 8:00pm. Something has become encoded in my brain after years of foraging for that one treat to cap off the day. I am cued to look at an incoming email, even when I am in the middle of a complex project. The good news is that habits can be changed, and this is the central argument of his book. Every habit, no matter how multifaceted, is malleable (as opposed to rigid). But you must first know how they work.

I’ve never thought about how habits work until I read this book. Duhigg described it as a three step loop. First, there is a cue, a “trigger” (I’m in the right lane on 26). Then there is the routine (turn on 750 AM and drive with the flow). Finally, there is a reward which helps the brain figure out if this loop is worth remembering (I get to seminary in a safe and reasonable manner). This is why every MacDonald’s, be they in Amsterdam or Manila or Portland are standardized—a constant cue to trigger the same eating routines. This is why, each morning, on cue, my Wire Fox Terrier lunges at me to grab my hand as I leave. His routine is to try to snap at it as if to intimidate. His reward is some deep satisfaction that he has established alpha supremacy in our home (at least it seems like this is what is going on, but honestly, I have no idea if these neurological cravings are at work because most of the time this dog seems to register no real brain activity).

Part of the key to changing habits (e.g. snacking at work) is to keep the same cue and same reward. Duhigg refers to this as “The Golden Rule of Habit Change”—“You can’t extinguish a bad habit. You can only change it.” If snacking is a way of interrupting the boredom, find another routine to satisfy the cravings—a quick walk or a 3 minute break on the Internet. The key is to identify the cue that signals the habit, as well as the reward that drives all of this. It is also important to believe such change is possible (of course, it is also important to build a life of discipline and will power).

The Power of Habit also addresses corporate habits. And this is the most interesting part of the book. Over time, organizations create a set of institutional habits. It may appear Village Church is making rational choices, but many of them are simply patterns which have been established over a long period of time. This is true of every church. If you want to test this out, start asking why we do things (hand out worship bulletins, create non engaging learning environments, pass offering bags) and measure the degree of thought that is behind most of our routines. A few years ago, in my first church, convinced that worship by definition is a response to revelation, I shifted much of the music, prayer, offering, etc. to the other side of preaching. People were obviously put off by all of this. Some were even outraged that I had messed with set liturgical form. But no one stopped to ask why we did it the other way. It had simply become a habit—a bad one at that.

Some habits need to change (biting nails, drinking Diet Coke). Some habits need to be created (time in the Word, prayer, sharing our faith, eating wholesome meals, working out). The great news is that habits can be what you choose them to be, if you understand how they work—and if you know who you want to be.