4 posts from July 2007

One little question kept running around in my head this morning in church. (and apparently ever since)  What does it mean to follow Jesus, a homeless man?  Let me quickly say, I don't know the answer to that question.  In light of verses like "go, sell all you have, give the money to the poor and then come and follow me…" it's hard to reconcile much of the current representation of Christianity with the fact that its leader is a homeless guy.  Yet, the question seems to ring in my ears.  I believe that generosity is the key to financial wisdom.  As long as we are busy giving, then money has no power to rule us.  "For where your treasure is there your heart will be also."  If we can't loosen our grip on our financial lives, then we become the antithesis of that homeless guy we speak of.  And speaking about him was never enough anyway.  What does it mean to be a follower of Jesus, a homeless man?

We believe in the Burger King.  And in his only son Ronald McDonald.  Who was conceived of Capitalism.  We believe in the Holy Coca-Cola, who washes down our hot burger and salty fries. 

Have you taken Ronald McDonald as your personal savior?  We know that if you really examine your life you’ll find that you are always hungry and pinched for time.  He can meat that hunger of your life.  He promises a super sized life if you’ll but let him in.  You’ll get your red meat hot, with a bun and special sauce.  Your fries will always be hot and crispy.  Can you imagine a life with no more green beans, ever?  That life can be yours today!  Your coca-cola will be tall and cold with plenty of ice.  But our Ronald isn’t like those others, he even offers a milkshake-like drink anytime you need a little something sweet.  Isn’t he amazing?  I just love him.  He’s super sized me, and he can super size you to.  It’s a promise you can take to the bank, you’ll always get it your way, right away.  It’s the McGospel.

I love Hugh Laurie, and I love it when he plays any instrument or sings anything, but this is my favorite today.  Yay for House!  LOL!

I visited with some old friends recently as I retraced steps of a place once familiar to me.  In the process I began a list of books recommended by dear friends.  The first one I picked up was “A New Kind of Christian.”  I had barely made it through the introduction before I began feeling the itch to respond to the thoughts written there.  Very interesting reading!  I’ve heard about “paradigm shifts” for years, it was popular language in the late 90’s I suppose.  But the introduction of this book outlined the process of a paradigm shift in a way I’d never seen before. 

1. Stability – all is well. 

2. Discontinuity – all is less well, feelings of discontent arise and the search for the reason for the restlessness begins.

3. Disembedding – creating a little distance between yourself and the current system, disconnecting.  And yeah, this is the painful part.

4. Transition – a foot in the old world, a foot in the new… although probably not quite that neatly. 

5. Reformation – deciding to make a go of it in the new world, invigorated with hope and passion for the possibilities.

These were very interesting ideas to consider on a number of fronts for me.  First, I’ll give you a little bit of where I’m coming from in terms of the political framework I’m disembedding from, and the reformation I hope for.  Secondly, the process of speaking out is in itself a paradigm shift for me, and I find this in my professional life as well as I’m exploring a new way of doing the business I’ve been in for years now.  I am convinced that my life is currently marked by this kind of transition on so many levels, and in spite of its painful aspects from time to time, this is an honest exploration.

First, this is either by way of confession or explanation and I’m not sure which.  I’m not a Republican.  I share some things in common with some Republicans, like speaking of a relationship with God as being central to my life.  But I’m very.. well… how would you say it – I’m completely disconnected from that group by my strong sense of personal revulsion at the things I’ve witnessed over the last few years, primarily in terms of the Iraq war, torture, rendition, Gitmo and on and on down a list of painful realities that have come to define the Republican party.  The Republican party has picked a variety of fights over homosexuality in recent years, and this is one thing I just don’t understand.  Why on earth do these people sound so angry and fearful over this issue?  I shake my head at this – and a constitutional amendment over this single issue?  The only thing that comes to mind is simply: “You have got to be kidding me!”  In addition, I find a strong disconnect between myself and the idea that business interests should be given higher priority than individual human rights or interests.  I observe an inability to confront the burdensome issues of poverty in the Republican neighborhood with any sort of dignity or compassion.  I guess there is something about wealth and power that is particularly troubling when they are married and give birth to injustice.  So while many of my friends are Republicans, most of whom I have deep respect for in other aspects, this is someone I can not be.  I am disconnected.

Conversely, I am not a Democrat, or at least not a very good one.  Some neighborhoods of thought in the Democratic political world seem to be strongly anti-Christian and in some instances simply atheistic with an actual disdain for practicing people of faith.  Honestly I respect and understand why people would come to those conclusions about Christianity, I don’t know what to think of plenty of these people who go by the title “Christian” myself.  I think it was Gandhi that said that “I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians.  Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”  Heck yeah, now that I agree with.  Secondly, many Democrats are pro-choice and this is pretty tricky ground for me.  I believe that Abortion is morally and spiritually wrong, an ending of a human life.  But for a variety of reasons I think it is best left legal, though I support restricting it to rare circumstances and certainly never in the case where the fetus could be viable if “born.”  Another issue where I differ with most Democrats is homosexuality – in my opinion, it isn’t a human right.  I don’t get what anyone gains by standing in the way of same sex couples marrying; there are plenty of heterosexuals marrying the wrong people for the wrong reasons so that it seems like a ridiculous point to fight over.  I don’t think my marriage is in the least bit jeopardized by a gay couple tying the knot.  I support some legislation inspired by the gay community simply because if two single people (disregarding their sexuality which is really none of my business) want to live together and share expenses, they should have the freedom to do so and file their taxes accordingly.  There are plenty of other issues that define both parties and I could go on at length with these things point by point.  But suffice it to say that while I identify more with the Democratic party on some issues, I am not a Democrat, I am disconnected.

So how does one come through the process of being politically disconnected to finding a place (indeed making a place if necessary) to transition into, and to move into the process of reformation?  I don’t have an answer for this, but it points me to another internal paradigm shift that I’ve alluded to in an earlier blog.  I’m going to be 40 soon, and I’m less likely now to be the youngest person engaged in a debate over politics.  I’m less likely to consider myself ignorant of the issues and unable to formulate reasoned opinions.  And I’m less willing to just sit and listen to other people speak of their political convictions while I remain silent.  My silence was a number of things, maybe acquiescence, maybe an effort to purchase peace when I sensed the other individual could not hold a conversation that wasn’t based in argument, anger and reheated cliché.  Maybe it was just protecting myself from ditto heads and people who got their faith and politics from the same source.  Sources that I found spiritually and morally repugnant.  I have painted a picture of my convictions to friends, only to have them boil my thoughts down into clichés when defining me to others.  But when the inner discontent begins to grow, and the disconnecting has already been accomplished, the next steps in the process of the paradigm shift are to engage the transition and reformation process.  Keeping silence won’t work for that.  And one little idealistic hope that if enough of us quiet people speak up, we can be heard.  I don’t think you have to respect me, or agree with me, but if you will hear me, that is enough. 

I have a very simple vision, but it is not a small one.  I want to see the nature of the “Pro Life” debate to include life after the womb in this country, in this election, and beyond.  That is transition for this country, that is reformation.  That is a new paradigm in American politics, and that is my dream.

I read another story today.  It was the story of Gideon in Judges.  I haven’t connected with this story in years, but a passing reference to it made me come back to it with interest.  First, Gideon came face to face with a disconnect between who he believed himself to be, and the way the angel of the Lord addressed him.  “O mighty warrior!”  Secondly, he dealt with his own idolatry and tore down his father’s shrines and altars.  Finally, in the face of a surmountable enemy, Gideon looked for fewer warriors rather than many.  And with three hundred warriors he engaged the battle and God gave them victory.  I thought of this story in terms of what transition or reformation would require.  I feel like one small solitary voice in the midst of a loud loud world.  It seems like it would require a massive political movement to move into transition and reformation in the political debate.  But what if it only took three hundred of us?  What if it only required three hundred warriors to reach this simple goal?  Could three hundred people change the conversation in this country about what it means to be “pro life?”  Could we really shape the debate leading up to the elections?  Could we be a part of a reformation?  I don’t know.  But I do dare to hope.  How about you?  Would you dare to hope?  Would you hope with me?  Do you share my dream?