skills of a cousin

I have a cousin who's a really good skateboarder. Turns out he's got some film-making skills as well. Check it out:

Rainy Night Session from Dan Funk on Vimeo.

fightpastor follow-up

Ok, after posting a link to the NY Times article on churches and mixed martial arts (MMA), the fightpastor posted a link on my blog to his response. Wanting to be fair in my criticism, I thought I'd mention his response (see here) and make a few comments.

I'm glad to hear fightpastor's passion for faith and MMA has nothing to do with the supposed "feminization of the church" that some Christian individuals blame for a decline in church popularity. It's also good to hear fightpastor is just an "ordinary guy" with no agenda beyond connecting and loving the people around him. And I affirm fightpastor's faith in the ultimate victory of Jesus. In a world full of brokenness and violence, Christians do proclaim that evil and suffering don't have the last word.

My problem, however, is the message of Christ's victory being communicated through the "sport" of MMA. Can an activity that promotes victory through violence and brute force really present a picture of Christ's victory over violence - victory achieved through a non-violent submission to the brutality he was presented with? I just don't see how the message of God's self-sacrifice at the cross - the ultimate declaration against violence - can be represented through such a violent activity. I don't get it...

And so while I commend some of fightpastor's motives to reach out those around him, my response to all things MMA remains the same: "ugh."

for your amusement (or annoyance)

A few things have come my way this week that I couldn't help but share. I'll admit, the first two are high on the cringe meter, particularly for someone concerned about the relationship between Christianity and culture. Hopefully my third link will make up for the first two.

1. Jesus and MMA - “Where Feet, Fist and Faith Collide.”

Go here to read about how Christians are using Mixed Martial Arts as an evangelistic tool.

"Recruitment efforts at the churches, which are predominantly white, involve fight night television viewing parties and lecture series that use ultimate fighting to explain how Christ fought for what he believed in."

One leader is actually called the Fight Pastor.

Ugh!!!


2. Return on Ministry

Follow the arrows to see how just the right formula can lead to church success, or as they say in the church business, a better "return on ministry." They may have good intentions, but with the absence of questions like, "how is a church being faithful, not just successful," I'm a little suspicious.

Or check this out for a comical critique as someone navigates the Return on Ministry tool.

ROM - Return On Ministry from The Work Of The People on Vimeo.

3. Ok, enough cringing, as I quite like this last link, a video interview with N.T. Wright on how we read Genesis 1-3. How we understand the relationship between myth, history, and truth has major implications for how we read the Bible. Wright explore some of these implications.

Generation A

Douglas Coupland is a different kind of storyteller - different in a good way.

Coupland's latest book, Generation A, illustrates his ability to not only know the world he lives in, but also describe it in a manner appropriate to that world. He doesn't write about our current culture so much as his stories embody the current culture. Generation A is no exception, making for one interesting, quirky, Coupland story (if you've read any of his books, you'll know what I mean).

Set in a world absent of bees, the story follows the lives of five young adults brought together from one common experience: they were all strangely stung by a bee. And while the return of bees created a global buzz (hehe), this apocalyptic-like storyline simply lays the ground for what I thought the book did really well: describe the search for identity of this so-called Generation A. And so we meet a crew of technologically savvy young adults, all sort of wandering aimlessly, scrambling to satisfy their lust for connection, often through the latest gadget or social networking fad. And while perhaps a tad extreme in its caricatures, the book, in my opinion, isn't that far off. In their own ways, each characters reveals how meaning in this culture is typically found in the quantity of one's technological-social connection rather than the quality. And at times it's unclear from Coupland if this is always a bad thing. It just is. Although as someone in this generation, I must admit, the book at times acts as mirror I didn't always want to look into.

It's in the context of these five individuals' experiences that issues related to science, technologically, and human identity are explored. And while the book is filled with countless bizarre incidents full of colorful characters and colorful language, what I found most intriguing were the reflections around the theme of story. Coupland explores the challenges around understanding our own lives as stories, particular in our current culture. As one character remarks, "The hardest things in the world are being unique and having your life be a story. In the old days, it was much easier, but our modern fame-driven culture, with its real-time 24-7 marinade of electronic information, demands a lot from modern citizens, and poses great obstacles to narrative." Strike a chord?

In the story itself, it's thought that a chemical induced by storytelling may in fact be what brought the bees back. And so the characters are led on a retreat where their sole task is to tell each other stories. And not just tell stories, but make up stories. It's in their creativity (again, Coupland's eccentric imagination is alive and well here) that the group begins to realize the effect stories can have on who we are individually and in relation to one another. As the scientist observing them states, "Stories come from a part of you that only gets visited rarely--sometimes never at all. I think most people spend so much time trying to convince themselves that their lives are stories that the actual story-creating part of their brains hardens and ides. People forget that there are other ways of ordering the world." In a sense, stories go far beyond ideas about a series of events. Stories go to the depths of who we are and how we understand this world. Simply saying my life is story isn't enough. Yet storytelling is no easy task, as one young woman laments: "Why do most of us make such boring choices for the stories of our lives? How hard can it be to change hears and say, 'You know what? Instead of inventingand telling stories, I'm going to make my life a more interesting story ." Ironically, it's as the group makes up stories that a new connection with one another is made, and the meaning of their real stories begins to unfold.

And so I think Coupland's emphasis on the significance of storytelling, however hard it is in our current culture, gets it right - the idea that we all have a story to tell and to relate to other stories. I'll admit, I don't always understanding Coupland and where he's going with his books, but if anything, Generation A provides hope that in the midst of sensory overload and shallow cyber-relationships, people still have a story to tell, however different that storytelling looks from centuries gone by (and as this book illustrates). Kudos to Coupland for this timely reminder.

look in the mirror

It continues to frustrate me at how many Christians think they’ve got it all right. And then cloak their theological confidence with a sort of godly servanthood – “I’m just a faithful Christian reading my Bible.” How does that engender conversation, acknowledge that others may have alternative views that are also biblical, or at least display a moderate level of humility towards what we hold as truth?

This issue of theological certainty was again brought to my attention with the varied Christian responses to the earthquake disaster in Haiti. Most have already heard of Pat Robertson’s rambling conjecture on Haitian history and God’s judgment. Unfortunately, most global catastrophes bring similar responses from popular preachers and theological tacticians.

This morning I read Drew Tatusko’s description of the background to these responses, what he calls a “destructive theology” in which God’s mercy and judgment are seen as equal characteristics. And while proponents of God’s absolute sovereignty and judgment point to the Old Testament examples of God’s judgment to support mercy and judgment together, Tatusko refutes such a perspective – “It is entirely rooted in a logical fallacy focusing only on specific narratives of judgment without engaging the judgment of mercy in Jesus Christ.” Tatusko goes on to provide a compelling counter to the Robertson ilk by revealing how “in Christ, God is revealed as one who reaches out to the lost and the suffering and finds favor among them first.” I was reminded of a lecture I heard in the fall to which we were challenged, “Is our Christology high enough to go so low” and love “the least of these” (Mt. 25:31-46)?

Enough people - Tatusko my latest encounter - have exposed the inconsistencies in Robertson-like responses to suffering in our world. I think enough’s been said.

In the midst of the variety of Christian responses to Haiti, however, I’ve been reminded at just how diverse our views on God and the Bible really are. I actually don’t think our diversity is necessarily a bad thing, on a one condition of course: people need to look in the mirror and acknowledge their own presuppositions about God and the Bible instead of claiming to represent “traditional Christian doctrine” as is often the case. For example, Tatusko himself represents a particular view of biblical interpretation in which the person of Jesus Christ is the main interpretative grid. I happen to believe that same approach is essential to understanding the character of God. As my own denominational Confession of Faith states, “The person, teaching and life of Jesus Christ, bring continuity and clarity to both the Old and New Testament.” Realizing my own specific view of the Bible, then, I can least understand how someone like Robertson could come to his conclusions, even if I don’t agree with them (Donald Miller attempts such understanding here).

All this to say, when faced with difficult questions of faith and theology, I think our theological method should be likened to looking in a mirror – a way of exposing how our own beliefs and experiences shape our understanding of God and the world. Looking in our own mirror, our church’s mirror, and even Christianity’s mirror – humility in belief and practice – can hopefully begin to correct the multitude of misconceptions about God that our theological certainty has sadly spread.

this is how the world will end

Haiti has really been on my heart this weekend. And as I reflected on ideas around progress (see here), I've been wondering: what does progress look like for Haiti after such devastation?

So I showed this video in church today:

(h/t the work of the people)

And if a certain light don't shine again,
Baby, this is how the world will end.

So I say it again, God help us - help us be that light...

progress and its perils

Despite poverty and natural disasters around the world, many of us wealthy folks (if your reading this, I’d consider you wealthy) still think the world is a pretty good place. I mean, all the really bad stuff happens out there (e.g. Haiti earthquake). We send money, but mainly we are just spectators. Thus we become immune from truly identifying with hardship. We think our world, with all its scientific and technological advancements, is pretty good.

Well, I recently came across an article in The Economist that questions our belief in progress (no, I’m not a regular reader of this magazine, but Santa put it in my stocking:). The article critiques the very notion that our world is on a one-way track to Utopia. Now realistically, I know at least some of us acknowledge not all is right with the world. Yet even in acknowledging modern society’s deficits, how we live doesn’t always correspond with a thoughtful realism, due in large part to a troubling sense of entitlement we’ve developed. In the words of the article, “people born in the rich world today think they are due a modicum of health, prosperity and equality. They advance against that standard.” Sadly, our realism for the perils of progress only applies to others. We still expect perfection, even at others' expense.

The article continues by suggesting that part of the problem is to equate technological and scientific developments with social progress. Has all science benefited humanity (e.g. nuclear and biological weapons)? Obviously, what’s intended for good and can be used for evil. As the authors suggest, “scientific progress needs to be hitched to what you might call ‘moral progress.’” This need for moral progress is even more telling in economics – a situation in which “it is good to go up in the world, but much less so if everyone around you is going up in it too.” The illusion of our progress is exposed as in our quest for individual success we realize there isn’t room for everybody.

Drawing on the work of philosopher Susan Neiman, the article closes with a sort of secularized alter-call. With too much emphasis placed on the elusory good of science and technology, “moral sensibility” needs attention - the principle that we should guide progress by “what is right despite the costs.” And while I agree willingness for “acts of principled self-sacrifice” would go a long way towards counteracting our often-selfish endeavours, I’m still left wondering who determines the content of moral sensibility? Me? You? God? Government? I’m not convinced that to suggest “moral progress…is up to us” really changes anything. It’s a rally cry, sure. But to what? Well, back to ourselves – the ones who created the problems in the first place.

As a religious person – a Christian – I still hold out hope for the input of religious ethics in our critique of social progress (Susan Neiman does to a degree as well, but through the lens of reason. See here). While I’m not ignorant of religion’s own culpability to fail, religious ethics can provide a content for conceptions of “moral progress” that generic human goodness fails to provide. Religious ethics provide a story of goodness, not just an idea - a story in which we don’t rely solely on our own ability to live well. Amidst the ongoing failure in humanity's so-called progress, religious ethics bring the simple acknowledge that we need help.

God help us!



On a lighter note (and much funnier!), this video offers a comical critique of technological advance, bringing into sharp reality just how absurd our assumptions around “progress” are: