My first real exposure to the Jesus Revolution came in 1972, sometime during my 9th grade year. That experience also taught me that sometimes, even the wisest adults don’t know squat.

I lived in Lake Havasu City, Ariz., and attended a vibrant, growing UB church that was doing most things right. I loved the youth group, and loved my youth pastor, Jack Wade, a former Campus Crusade worker who influenced me significantly.

One night we all bundled into cars and traveled the 40 miles to Needles, Calif., where a Christian rally was being held. That's Needles as in, "Well I headed for Las Vegas / Only made it out to Needles." Pastor Marvin Price, Jack Wade, my dad, and probably several other adults accompanied us to Needles High School, where a bunch of sound and music equipment occupied the middle of the football field.

The music was loud Christian rock music, something new to Sheltered Stevie. Our church was progressive in many ways, but not in music. But it was not a concert. It was more of a worship service. For probably the first time in my life, I sang worship songs to the accompaniment of a full rock band. I tell you—it really grabbed my heart, like nothing I had experienced before. It connected. The preacher, probably just another hippie who found Christ, spoke not necessarily with eloquence, but with conviction and urgency. Again, my heart leaped with something I couldn't explain. I caught glimpses into a whole new level of Christian living, and my heart yearned for it.

An altar call was given. As people went forward, the band sang and the preacher prayed and talked. And as he talked, he occasionally lapsed, just briefly, into another language. It was my first exposure to speaking in tongues. He didn't make a show of it. A few words, then it was gone. And I remember the words, burned into my mind like it was yesterday. It sounded just like this: "Shone alamos." Whatever that means.

But that was a sideline, not something I focused on. Rather, I found myself overwhelmed with the newness of this whole experience--the drums and screaming guitars, the long-haired hippie preacher, the urgency and depth of his message, and the overwhelming way in which I sensed the Holy Spirit's presence in that gathering. It was incredibly real to me, unlike anything I had experienced before (though I've had many such experiences since then).

Well, afterwards we headed back to Lake Havasu and were directed into the fellowship hall, where we sat around on the floor. Dad told me, while we were still outside, "Pastor Price wants to talk to everyone about something." "What?" I asked. "About speaking in tongues." And I wasn't even sure what he meant.

Some denominational tussles over tongues in our California churches had embroiled Pastor Price to some extent. Now his whole youth group had just been exposed to someone speaking in tongues, and he felt compelled to talk to us about that. So he did. Now, I heard years later that Pastor Price himself prayed in tongues, but it was purely a private thing; he never emphasized it, never preached about it, never encouraged it publicly. He just privately practiced it. So he knew what he was talking about. We teenagers received a doctrinally sound, balanced presentation about speaking in tongues. Pastor Price did a fine job. He beautifully answered questions I wasn’t asking.

You see, this incredible man of God totally missed the point. So did Jack Wade and my dad. The three most influential men in my life at that point. My mind was still back on that football stadium, still wondering:

"What was that?!?"

I was thinking about the incredible new way I sensed the Holy Spirit in that meeting, and how much I loved experiencing worship with my generation's style of music. The adults totally missed this. Lousy antennae. The style just wasn't their cup of tea, or maybe the Holy Spirit simply didn’t target them.

I think about that as I'm around today's teens and young adults. I may participate in a gathering and find myself concerned about some theological issue, or perhaps a lack of Bible content, or something else. That may be all I see, as a 49-year-old, and I may downplay the event’s value. Meanwhile, a 20-year-old could be experiencing direct contact with the Holy Spirit and wondering, "What's going on here?!?" Where I see shallowness, he may be thinking, "Wow! They are so genuine! So real!"

So on one hand I can take some pride in five decades of accumulated wisdom, experience, theological knowledge, and general spiritual discernment. But on the other hand, I need the humility to recognize that in contexts related to today's emerging generations, I can sit amidst them and yet be totally blind to what God is actually doing. If a spiritual giant like Marvin Price can miss it, then I sure can.

Posted at 12:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

We've all heard about the slaves who fought against the British during our War for Independence. But since victors write the history books, we haven't heard much about the thousands of slaves who fought for the British. Slaves were well aware that slavery had been outlawed in England; if they could just reach the British Isles, they would be free at last.

The British offered freedom to any slaves who came to their side to fight against the American revolutionaries. An estimated 100,000 slaves (one out of five) fled the US by the end of the revolution. One was George Washington's slave, Harry Washington, who ended up dying outside of Freetown, Sierra Leone. When the defeated British departed after losing at Yorktown, 15,000 former slaves went with them. Two new books, one by an English historian and one by an Australian historian, tell this forgotten piece of America's story and what happened to these slaves, who were dispersed to England, Africa, Australia, and elsewhere.

So here's what's interesting. We celebrate our forefathers for fighting for freedom. They were not exactly "unfree," but did have grievances about taxes and other issues. Meanwhile, here were these thousands of slaves who were, absolutely, fighting for freedom. And when the British lost, thousands were returned to a life of slavery (while their masters could celebrate the lower cost of tea).

But there are other interesting twists. Why were they slaves to begin with? Because of the British slave trade. While slavery was illegal in England itself, they hadn't outlawed the slave trade on the high seas. The US, in 1808, outlawed the overseas slave trade, but still permitted slavery on US soil. Ah, what a web. Thomas Jefferson originally wrote about this in an early draft of the Declaration of Independence, criticizing King George for violating the "sacred rights of life and liberty in the persons of a distant people who never offended him, captivating and carrying them into slavery." In addition, he said King George had vetoed efforts in the colonies to abolish or restrain slavery, and was now offering these slaves the "liberty of which he has deprived them, by murdering the people on whom he also obtruded [imposed] them."

Alas, some signers felt that paragraph was too harsh, some felt it was too soft, and so they struck it from the final document which landed on King George's desk.

Ironically, at war's end, five of Jefferson's own slaves were recaptured as they tried to flee behind British lines. Now who was imposing slavery on whom? Don't ya just love this stuff?

Posted at 01:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I liked this. Someone on the ChurchMedia.net forum uses this as a signature:

God is good, all the time
Sometimes it's obvious

This is a reminder that sometimes, God's goodness is not obvious...but he's still good.

Posted at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

One of my seminars at the Church Media conference last week dealt with web design. Frankly, I didn't learn a whole lot; after all, this is something I do professionally. But I did get a kick out of the leader's "Six Things Never To Use in Web Design." I agreed with all six, and added three of my own. So that's nine items. I've been trying, hard, to come up with a tenth thing, but though I've had some good candidates, nothing has surfaced as a rock solid "definitely don't do this."

So, I'll run with the nine. Most of these were popular in the 1990s, and should have died in the 1990s, the early days of the web. And most of these are very common on local church websites, a fact of life which pains me greatly.

1. Frames. Don't design web pages with frames. It is so 1990s. Some browsers have trouble with frames. And if you care about Google rankings, definitely avoid frames. (I've never designed with frames.)

2. Scrolling banner text. This comes under the heading "Don't do it just because you can." Designers see that their program enables them to scroll text, so they do it. It's just annoying. Like the similar FX in Powerpoint, where letters come flying across one at a time to form words. Don't do it just because you can.

3. Animated GIFS. I hate sites that are plastered with cutesy animations that the designer stole from somewhere else.

4. Hit counters. Don't put these on your website. They look amateurish (from a design standpoint), and "hits" are not like the more accurate "visits" (by accessing my blog homepage, I got probably a dozen "hits" as you accessed pieces of artwork, plus my javascript and CSS pages).

5. Patterned backgrounds. You can download gobs of square patterns to use as backgrounds for your pages. In general, avoid them. They look cheap.

6. Template buttons and art. You can buy a CD with thousands of graphic buttons; you just add your words to it. Plus lines, shapes, stars, symbols, and all kinds of other things. All of which look cheap. They also take extra time to load, as opposed to using textual links and buttons, which is the current standard (in tandem with Cascading Style Sheets).

7. Midi music. If I come across a site with music playing on it—that's the quickest way to get me to close the page. Especially if I'm at work. Music is especially annoying on ebay.

8. Splash screens. This is a page you're forced to endure before getting to the actual page you want. You certainly don't want to see it every time you visit that site. Instead of directly entering the store, it's like being forced to come through another entrance with a special waiting room. Splash screens kill you on Google rankings, and studies show that up to a third of people never go beyond the splash screen. I click out of them as fast as possible.

9. Under Construction pages. I constantly have pages under construction—but I don't advertise that fact. I only link to a page or a section when it's done. Nobody wants to be taken to an "under construction" page. It just wastes your time. When you have something there, then give me a link. I'm not interested in your master plan or good intentions.

Any candidates for a 10th item?

Posted at 02:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I put up a bunch of photos from this Saturday's wedding of my niece, Paula Jo Dennie. There are three pages on my Mac.com account.

Wedding Photos - Page 1
Wedding Photos - Page 2
Wedding Photos - Page 3

Posted at 11:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Tabatha Lamb spoke briefly at Anchor this morning. That's her on the left. Anchor supports three Taylor University-Fort Wayne graduates, all girls, who now serve on the mission field--in Azerbaijan, Haiti, and Vietnam. Tabatha spent a lot of time at Anchor doing volunteer work during her college days. Last summer, she went to Vietnam--to Hanoi. Tabatha is one of my heroes.

The work is very difficult--very few Christians, deep cultural opposition to converting to Christianity. She told me of one young woman who had become a Christian and was involved in Bible studies, growing in her faith. But because of opposition from family and friends, she gave it up, renounced everything, and will now state sincerely that while she used to be a Christian, she is not anymore. Stuff like that must be highly discouraging.

Tabatha spoke for only a couple of minutes, and then showed a nine-minute DVD, a collage of photos from her time in Vietnam (she's going back, by the way). I viewed those photos through two filters, which I should explain first.

1. I grew up during the Vietnam War, and the constant barrage of information from the government and media implanted, deeply, certain impressions of the Vietnamese, especially those in the North with whom we were at war. They were barbaric, psychotic even. No regard for human life. Cruel, primitive, fearless. No hint of being civilized. Attacking with reckless, wild-eyed frenzy. As an adult I know those descriptions aren't accurate. But that's what I picked up as an impressionable, patriotic kid.

2. A few days ago I finished the novel "The Sorrow of War," written by a former North Vietnamese soldier. The author, Bao Ninh, entered the war in 1969 as part of what was called the Glorious 27th Youth Brigade. Of the 500 who went to war, only 10 survived. Bao Ninh's novel tells the story of a soldier. It is a bit tricky to read, since it jumps back and forth from pre-war, to post-war, to the present, to the war years itself. The book is non-partisan, neither pro-Vietnamese nor anti-American (actually, they do much more fighting with the South Vietnamese than with American troops). The book stirred controversy in Vietnam, since it didn't portray Vietnamese troops as heroic and noble. But the book achieved international acclaim because of its honesty. The protagonist, Kien, deals with family issues, a girlfriend, the post-war effects of years of bloodshed, fear, despair, hopes and dreams, earning a living, and much more which left me feeling a kinship with Kien. He was just a normal person and a normal soldier (neither bloodthirsty nor particularly heroic), a man who survived the war and had to get on with life. At heart, Kien wasn't unlike me.

So I watched Tabatha's photos with a eye for the everyday humanity of the Vietnamese people. Most of the photos were of young people. The Vietnam War ended in 1975; they fought in Cambodia in 1978 to remove the Khmer Rouge from power, and then fought off an invasion of nearly 100,000 Chinese soldiers. But all of that was nearly 30 years ago. Most of the people in Tabatha's slides appeared younger than that. They smiled a lot--much more than even American kids smile, I thought to myself. They played games, danced, ate, dressed up, mugged for the camera, and laughed.

I'm not passing judgment on the war and our involvement. That was an entirely different time. You can't lay the present over those years and render analysis. The Vietnamese did horrible things, and American soldiers did horrible things. That's what war does to people.

But in Tabatha's photos, I was looking at peace. As I watched these fun-loving people with the ready smiles, I mused that this was the natural state of people. To laugh, to enjoy each other, to live in peace. Whether they are Asian, African, Palestinian, Russian, or American--young people yearn to smile. We are made for peace. We are made to smile. But we are also made to love Christ, and that's the crucial element that the Vietnamese are missing. I'm glad Tabatha's trying to do something about it.

Posted at 08:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Paula got married today. That's my brother Stu's daughter, the second of four kids (the others all guys). Of my six nephews and nieces on my side of the family, Paula Jo is the first to get married. Now she's Paula Merkle, wife of Tom. And this new guy, Tom, has now invaded our family. Fortunately, Tom is a great guy; I liked him from Day One. He and Paula have dated for a couple years now. Tom's a solid guy--talented, hardworking, a great sense of humor, smiles easily. He's far more than a welcome addition to the family. And he'll take real good care of Paula.

My Dad and my brother, Stu, both conducted the ceremony. Mostly Stu. That's him on the left, with his wife, Joyce. Stu walked Paula down the aisle, and when Dad asked who's giving away Paula, Stu did the usual "Her mother and I." Then Stu walked around the groomsmen (five of them) and took the center place while Dad moved aside. Tom then brought Paula onto the stage, and the ceremony continued.

Stu did a great job. Others said they thought he struggled in a couple places, but I didn't detect it. He joked later that the trick was to not look at Paula. He would look down, up, between them, around them, but knew that if he looked at Paula and their eyes met, that it would be all over.

So this was a big day in the Dennie family.

Posted at 11:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Yesterday at the ChurchMedia.Net conference, I heard an amazing message which, even now, chokes me up. A guy named Paul Clifford, a techie who says he speaks in public probably three times a year, talked about developing a passion for evangelism. Paul is a skinny guy with long gray hair and sincere eyes. I sat in an earlier seminar in which he spoke for a bit, and I glimpsed a man with a real heart for God. As Paul began this keynote, I shot up a quick prayer, asking God to inspire me through Paul. My goodness, did God deliver on this one.

Paul mentioned that he spends Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights at the church or doing church-related things, and then comes to church on Sunday at 6 am and doesn't leave until 2 pm. He's working behind the scenes. That's where you find the techies. The "Men in Back."

Paul said, "People ask why I follow this kind of schedule, why I give so much time to my church." He said he produced a little video which explained why.

The video was entirely text, no pictures. It began with a brief message saying that Quest church, during its seven years, had seen 1300 people come to Christ. Then the screen changed, and all you saw was the month. I think it started at "June 1999." Then it switched to "July 1999." Then "August 1999." At some point--I don't remember the month--a name flashed horizontally across the screen. That was a person who had found Christ. This continued, month by month, and while there were still months with no names, they became infrequent, and the number of names in a single month might be 20, 30, or more. The names would quickly cross the screen, both left-to-right and right-to-left. Month by month, year by year, we watched—spellbound, in my case—as we saw the names of people who had come to Christ. Sometimes it was just a first name, usually a whole name.

By the time we came to 2006, scores of names were flashing across the screen every month—just a big blur of names. In March, during two Sundays, over 100 people found Christ. We finally came to "June 2006," and the video ended. We all looked at Paul. He was choked up, but after a few seconds he got control of his voice and told us, "That's why I do what I do. It's such an honor to be part of something like that." Paul told us that 89% of their converts are adults. Wow.

Even as I write this, my eyes are watering up, and I could probably just start bawling without much effort. Who wouldn't want to give everything they had to be part of something like that?

FYI, this is Quest Community Church, in Lexington, Kent. They describe their passion as "transforming unconvinced people into wholehearted followers of Jesus." The website says, "Today at Quest you'll find people at all points along their spiritual journeys: cynics, skeptics, seekers, and followers of Jesus. Most are attracted by several things: authentic relationships, people who live beyond themselves, creative communication, and a 'come as you are' spirit. Do these things appeal to you as well? Welcome to Quest."

Posted at 10:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

This Church Media conference can be a crack-up. It was supposed to begin at 10 am with a worship band, but the event leader said, "In true media ministry fashion, we'll start a little late because some new songs are being added at the last minute."

This is a conference of techies, guys who really know their stuff. But they had sound hiccups, some video issues, a guitar that didn't want to connect with the sound system. I even spotted a misspelling on a PowerPoint slide.

But I tell you--we had a great time of worship. I loved it. The bass guitarist reminded me a bit of Adam Clayton, the way he moved. And speaking of moved--I was. Moved, that is. It's nice, occasionally, to be in the audience.

Pam and I both love this conference. Today was superb. I heard three messages dealing with using metaphor in worship. Just outstanding. We'll head back down to Indy in the morning for the final day. Again, it'll start with worship, and I'm really really looking forward to it. The band wasn't anything special--I've heard better. But there's something about it....

A thread I've heard several times from speakers concerns servanthood. These tech guys serve behind the scenes, out of the limelight (unlike us musicians, whom they make sound good). They emphasize having the right attitude, doing it for the ministry, not for recognition. Several have told about how they get to church at 6 am and don't leave until 2 pm. And hardly anyone is aware of the time they put in. These are extremely capable people, volunteering gobs of time out of passion, and not caring about getting credit. What a wonderful example.

Posted at 10:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Yesterday Pam and I ate at Skyline Chili before leaving Indianapolis. Today, we stopped in Anderson on the way home from Indy and got a ten-pack of White Castles. Life doesn't get any better than this.

Posted at 10:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This week Pam and I are attending a church media conference in Indianapolis, sponsored by ChurchMedia.net. Pam runs the sound at Anchor, handles DVDs, and often pinch-hits with song slides. I do our websites and Powerpoint slides. The idea of spending time together in a learning environment, particularly when the learning will benefit our church, appealed to us.

The discussion forum at ChurchMedia.net, henceforth to be known as CMN, is known as being technical oriented. This sure came through in their seminars today. The presenters threw around techie lingo with reckless abandon. It's kind of amusing when people do that. Do they feel a need to impress, or are they just oblivious to the fact that they're speaking above people's heads? (In this case, an innocent case of the latter.) They flaunted acronyms, referenced web technologies without explanation, used technical terms as if everybody knew what they meant...you get the idea. My coworkers contend that I do exactly the same thing, with equal oblivion, around them.

Despite our occasional cluelessness, Pam and I enjoyed ourselves and learned some things which may prove useful at Anchor. We attended the same seminar at the end of the afternoon, on "Blogging and Podcasting." Pam's been turning Tim's sermons into MP3 files, and I'm administering five blogs at present. That was a good session. Pam attended sessions on Easyworship and using projectors. My other seminars were on digital photography (a very poor start) and doing websites (ah, now we're talking my language!).

We'll go back down tomorrow. The afternoon features two seminars on running sound, so that's where Pam will be. I'll take a seminar on using metaphors in worship (try to make that technical!), and I forget what the other two are about. But it'll be fun. These techies are good guys (and let me repeat: guys). And may I add that they are cheap. They don't like to spend money, but always recommend open-source software which they can get free. My experience is that open-source software is rarely easy to get up and running unless you're a techie. Me--I go for user-friendly. I can figure things out, but I'd just as soon not have to.

Meanwhile, some of you are wondering, "What's open-source software? Why doesn't Steve explain what he's talking about?" In my case, I'm just trying to impress.

Posted at 10:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I ate at Dairy Queen today. Haven't been there in many months. I like their chicken strips basket...and the Pecan Cluster Blizzard. I thought I could muster resistance, but alas, I succumbed and must now repent in dust and ashes (preferably with a cherry on top).

About five people--one adult, the rest teens--were working. As I waited for my order, I watched them with some amusement. Everyone wore a bored expression. They even looked a bit grumpy. It was obvious that none of them enjoyed working there. It was just a job--a summer job, probably. They were just going through the motions, and forcing a smile as they said "Have a nice day," since they obviously weren't having one.

I realize it's Monday. But hey--perk up! Working around ice cream can't be that bad!

Posted at 05:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Jordi has an insatiable appetite for being outside. If we are home, and there is an ounce of daylight, he believes he is entitled to be outside. And he meows incessantly until we (usually I--Pam's tougher than me) give in. Jordi cannot be allowed outside unattended, because he will wander into neighbors' yards, or run full-speed into them in pursuit of a rabbit or chipmunk. So we put a purple collar on him, with a bell which alerts us to his movements, and then go sit on the patio or in the grass to watch him while he stalks innocent animals, occasionally ushering him back within the boundaries of our property.

Thanks to Daylight Savings Time, we spend enormous chunks of time outside watching Jordi. A thunderstorm is a welcome treat, because he detests getting wet and shows no desire to go outside. But those are rare treats, it seems. And besides, I actually enjoy watching him. I grab a book and pen and go lay in the grass out back.

I spent a big piece of Friday outside with Jordi. Pam gets off at noon on Friday and I get off at 1 pm, so that's nice. The temperature was in the 90s, too hot to do yardwork. So, with Jordi following me around the house, meowing and rubbing against me--not so much marking his territory as trying to subjugate it--I chose a new book, located a pen, and headed outside. And whiled away much of the rest of the day there, just laying in the grass. (Jordi, by the way, raced into the neighbor's yard and caught a robin, which we convinced him to release after he had proudly carried it into our yard. It appeared unharmed.)

The book was Jim Wallis's Call to Conversion, a 1981 book which he updated after 9/11. I read the whole thing on Friday. Now, I'm not gonna give it a ringing endorsement. The first chapter, the foundational chapter, didn't totally click with me. And neither did the last two chapters. But in between was some great stuff, particularly as Wallis addressed poverty, injustice, peace-making, and the church in general. I've always appreciated Wallis's writings. He founded the Sojourners community in Washington D.C., a "commune" type thing which focuses on social matters while remaining doctrinally evangelical (though many evangelicals dismiss them as liberals). He's good on TV news shows. I'd much rather have him representing Christians than Dr. Jerry.

His second chapter deals with how Christians and churches have conformed to the world. And he takes this to an extent which would make most United Brethren either uncomfortable or guilt-ridden. Walls says what we've all heard countless times--that the lifestyle of Christians isn't much different than that of nonChristians. He then calls for the church to be a community of believers that is noticeable to outsiders, noticeable because they are different--different enough to require an explanation. We notice the Amish; people ask questions about how they live, and the reasons behind their lifestyle must be explained. But who asks questions about how Christians live? NonChristians can look at the typical evangelical church without ever thinking, "These people are different. I wonder why?" Very little about us cries out for explanation.

It would be easy to gang up on the larger, richer churches, pointing to them as having conformed to the world. I certainly felt the world's seductions (materialism, status, pride) more strongly at a large church. But I admit--very reluctantly--that there's nothing special about how people at my smaller, poorer church live. Nothing about us that hints at a "peculiar people." I doubt that unsaved visitors leave our doors wondering, "What makes Anchor people so different?"

Wallis says, "Modern evangelists must go through endless contortions to convince people that they are missing something that Christians have. Without the visible witness of a distinct style of life, evangelists must become aggressive and gimmicky, their methods reduced to salesmanship and showmanship."

Wallis isn't calling for Christians to adopt legalistic rules or for everyone to form communes. He's more interested in Christians emulating the love and community of the early Christians, who "were known for the way they lived, not only for what they believed." At Anchor, we're probably known for being friendly and accepting, but I doubt that we as a people are known for how we live. Walls says our contemporary worship includes God, but also includes other "gods" with which we've made Christianity compatible, particularly the pursuit of wealth (which you do see more in some churches) and a sense of being culturally relevant. "We want God's life, but we want the good life, too. We seem to believe that we can pay homage to our many cultural idols and still retain our integrity as God's people." I don't know about you, but that cuts deep in my niche of the world.

In our quest for converts, we water down the gospel, make it easy and attractive. But Wallis points to the conversion of Zaccheus, who immediately made reparations to the poor. Zaccheus obviously heard, from Jesus, more than "accept me into your heart and you'll go to heaven." He turned his life over to Christ, but also radically changed his lifestyle. And for years to come, people no doubt asked, "I've known Zaccheus for years. What made this change in his life?" An explanation was needed.

Do people ask why I'm different? Why my church is different? Is an explanation needed?

Well, that was among the best chapters in Call to Conversion. I can't begin to describe the power and prophetic nature of his chapter on injustice.

Posted at 08:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

One of the great surprises of my life is that my country has become a champion of state-sponsored torture. I know my wording makes you grimace. But the USA is a world state, we do commit or allow torture (while denying it), and our top leaders oppose legal restrictions on torture, so what can I say? Our wimpy allies in other Western nations are disturbed and dismayed, failing to see the redeeming qualities of torture, a practice with a long and distinguished history. I'm proud to belong to a country unafraid to buck world opinion and do what it feels is right.

But at the same time, I'm having bouts of guilt, inexplicable difficulty accepting the obvious merits of torturing foreigners. As much as I fight these impulses, desperately trying to follow the moral leadership of Cheney and Rummy, I find myself too often succumbing to feelings which can only be described as those of a bleeding-heart, raghead-loving, weak-kneed, misguided moralist. So many of our great religious figures, like Jerry Falwell and Tom Delay, fully support the application of torture. And where are the Christian voices speaking out against torture? Nada. My misgivings obviously betray a faulty conscience.

I remember a quote from one military officer who said, "After 9/11 we opened the door to a little torture, and a whole lot of torture walked through."

To defend torture, people always trot out the "burning fuse" argument: if a nuclear bomb will explode in an hour and a guy definitely knows where it's located, shouldn't you be able to torture the information out of him? My response: yes. On that I agree with Cheney et al.

But this is an extreme scenario which, as far as I know (and what do I know?), hasn't occurred. Yet we've tortured a lot of people, and create secret prisons in other countries to facilitate it. Are all of these people sheltering atomic bombs? Well, no. We are torturing for lesser reasons, sometimes just going on fishing expeditions to see if the poor bloke does, indeed, know something useful, which the interrogator discovers upon finding the proper mixture of question and electrical stimuli. If we only tortured people when there was an imminent threat, hundreds of shadowy CIA patriots would be out of work. They need to ply their trade, to keep in practice for when a true burning fuse situation arises. And so they round up hapless Iraqis and Talibanis who might know something about somebody who might know something about something else...or might not. How can we know without the use of creative coercion?

Fortunately, our enlightened Administration determined that we're exempt from the Geneva Conventions in this case. Astute legal rationalizers like Attorney General Alberto Gonzales determined that the Taliban and Al-Qaeda fighters don't technically qualify as Prisoners of War, so we've got our butts covered. When some ignoramus (like me) offers an objection about how the Geneva Conventions forbids the torture of POWs, Cheney or Rumsfield will set them straight about the true legal status of these detainers. "They aren't technically POWs," Cheney says. And the proper response is to nod and say, "Oh, okay."

I, on the other hand, being wimpy and unenlightened, find myself asking, "Therefore...?" Therefore...we can string them up with piano wire and attach electrodes? Apparently so. Therefore...all morality constraints are out the door? Yep. Since they aren't technically POWs, we are excused from humane treatment. "Get the pincers out! These guys don't qualify!" If the Geneva Conventions doesn't apply, torture is obviously justified. Why can't I get that through my skull?

Then there's the "rendition" program, where we secretly send victims to Egypt or Syria or Saudi Arabia and let them brutally extract the information we want, thereby keeping our own hands clean. Because of unenlightened world opinion concerning the valuable role of torture, our Administration feels compelled to wrap itself in multiple layers of deniability, but it's easy to turn up information about the rendition program. The New Yorker, Time, and Newsweek have all carried stories about it. I've read lots of documented stories on the internet. Amnesty International can tell many such stories. Cheney and Condi will look you in the face and say, with carefully parsed words, that we don't do this kind of thing. And how can anyone not believe Condi? I mean, she's a concert pianist! But the evidence is overwhelming. We just can't openly fess up as a nation, and I understand that.

The New Yorker (some of the best reporting in any magazine; a publication renowned for its fact-checking department) ran an in-depth story about a year ago which told story after story about rendering Arabs to other countries. American officers (speaking off the record) bragged about the efficiency of the Egyptians. They could give the Egyptians a list of questions in the morning, and by evening they would have written answers. And suddenly, Tom Ridge is raising the color threat level due to "reliable" information. A few people, innocent or not, happened to die while in foreign prisons. I realize that, hey, that's just the cost of Freedom. But my defective conscience plagues me.

The Clinton administrative started the rendition program. But lacking the moral backbone of the Bush Administration, they used it only with people already under indictment. The Bush Administrative is less inhibited. Just about anyone is fair game. They'll say, "This fellow isn't a bad guy, but we think he might know something about a bad guy. So let's abduct him, spirit him away to Egypt for a few months, and let the Egyptians see what they can find. If it turns out the guy doesn't know anything after all...well, sorry about that. Water under the bridge?" Again, it's a matter of fishing expeditions, torturing people to learn stuff that has nothing to do with a burning fuse.

Sometimes it's not technically "torture," but just plain cruelty. That's what we saw at Abu Ghraib. That's what seems to have happened in the early days of Gitmo. Just plain, unadorned, gratuitous cruelty. That's what my country does nowadays, and I'm sure it's somewhat of a "trickle-down" consequence of allowing actual torture. Oh, I'm not so naive as to think it didn't happen in the pre-9/11 world. But the open defense of torture (while denying that it happens) is a new wrinkle in our national conscience. And shame on me for doubting the wisdom of our leaders, all of whom talk shiningly about their faith in God, and no doubt force themselves to refrain from using the F-word when they pray.

What would Jesus do? That's always an interesting question. Jesus would probably say, "Sure, douse him in water and hook up the electrodes. But let's build a secret prison in Thailand and do it there. Don't want to pollute my Most Favored Nation." Of course that's what Jesus would say. When he looks down on a 19-year-old Talibani, laying naked on a stone floor in a dank cell in some east European country, hungry and alone and scared, taken from the cell twice a day for lengthy interrogations with the added bonus of torture and general physical abuse--do you think Jesus is bothered by that? Of course not. Jesus is a patriot. Jesus loves the USA. He would support our president, who talks to Him regularly.

Nevertheless, while my mind understands why torture is necessary and good, I find myself inexplicably embarrassed by my country's embrace of redemptive torture. The naïve wimp inside me argues that, as the only remaining superpower, we had the unprecedented ability to assert moral leadership in the world, but that our embrace of torture has sacrificed that ability in the eyes of the world. I'd like the other nations of the world to know, "Hey, we're better than this." But shame on me. I'm just a hopeless idealist, totally removed from the Real World.

I realize that we evangelical Christians are supposed to follow the Republican lead in taking a hard line against terrorism and supporting our Christianese-talking President. That's why our evangelical leaders remain silent about the use of torture (silent, in fact, about anything the Bush administration does which may seem questionable). Sure, John McCain has spoke out against torture, but he was probably brainwashed during his years in North Vietnam, so you can't really trust him. All things considered, I should just shut up.

I know that Jesus would support torturing people who might (or might not) know something that could lead to someone else who needs their own dose of pain infliction until they cough up another name just to "Make it stop!" I realize that Jesus would support the secret detention centers, that he would fly the plane to Cairo himself to unload some anonymous dude with a hood over his head. I realize that Jesus doesn't care how we treat children of God if they have embraced Islam. I realize that Jesus, like George and Rummy and Cheney, believes that these fellows don't qualify for humane treatment under the Geneva Conventions, and that we can therefore torture them to our heart's content. I realize that our spiritual leaders agree with Jesus on all of this.

I guess I'm just a carnal, sniveling, unspiritual excuse for a Christian. I need to try harder.

Posted at 02:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

We suspended our Wednesday night activities for the summer, but Mark and Tami, two of the original core group members at Anchor, felt led to start a Wednesday night prayer time. We started last night. Pam and I joined them.

A young single mom with a difficult story I don't know yet joined us, along with her baby son. She moved up from Florida a year ago, sometime recently walked over to the Friday night youth center to see what was going on, and found community. I don't know that she's a Christian yet. One of the teen guys was there. He really wants to grow. I appreciated the chance to get more acquainted. Good guy.

Eight of us total. We talked around a table in the sanctuary for a while, then broke up to pray individually for ten minutes, and then regrouped for some corporate prayer. It was a quality time. Pam and I will be in Indy next Wednesday, but on the way home, Pam said she felt it would be important for us to be there, so we'll make sure we get back in time.

I'm no prayer warrior. I stink at prayer. As an elder I should be setting this wonderfully disciplined example, but I don't. There, I said it. I'm tired of acting more spiritual than I am (and let me tell you--I'm good at it). But last night...that was really special. Pam and I both felt it. We connected with God, but also connected in community with some other neat people.

Posted at 09:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Last night at the table tennis club, I talked for a while with a United Methodist minister named Dave, a tall, gregarious fellow you have to like. I've known for months that he was a minister, but I hadn't yet outed myself as another fulltime ministry guy. So after I gave him a 3-1 whooping, we sat down and launched into an interesting discussion. I explained our common roots, how we split off in 1889 with a group that later merged with the Methodists to become today's United Methodist Church.

Dave admitted that the UMCs have been losing members regularly for a long time. He said the same was true of many other denominations, and he assumed we were probably experiencing the same thing.

"Actually, we haven't been losing members," I told him. "We've just been staying at the same basic level for way too long."

Dave asked how many members we have in the United States. "Probably less than you have just in Indiana," I told him.

"Well, how many?"

"About 23,000 members," I said.

"Oh, wow, you are small," he said. He actually grimaced. "We have 200,000 members just in Indiana."

For the record, at that point I felt like I was part of something that was excruciatingly small. A carnal, pride-driven feeling, I know.

Dave mentioned something about a large Missionary Church near him. I told him that we had recently considered merging with the Missionary Church denomination, but our group voted against it.

"What was the issue that stopped it?" he asked. "Ordination of women? Homosexuality?"

I chuckled. "No, there was no big issue," I said. "On just about everything, we line up almost perfectly."

"Then what stopped it?" he persisted.

And I had to think. What did stop it? It seems like the distant past at this point. I honestly drew a complete blank. I couldn't articulate anything, and even now, I can't identify any Overarching Prevailing Objection why the thing failed. I guess I've moved on. Don't want to think about it.

Instead, I began telling Dave about the whole "joining" thing--that we proposed to the Missionary Church that our group disband and become part of the Missionary Church. "Rather than have both groups dissolve and form something completely new to both groups, with study committees and strict attention to proportional representation and all that stuff, we wanted to just give ourselves up and become part of them. We would merge into what they already have in place, so there would be as little disruption as possible."

Dave thought that was really cool. Imagine that--a United Methodist admiring us for something. But you would expect that from a United Methodist. You know how they are, all ecumenical and stuff. "So why did your members vote against that?" It seemed to him like such a great idea, and he wouldn't quit until I provided an answer.

Fortunately, someone came along and challenged him to a match, and our conversation ended.

For the record, Dave and I have played many times, and he has beaten me only once. So I can hold my nose high.

Posted at 09:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm a big NBA fan. The purists prefer NCAA basketball, decrying the NBA as too commercial. Yeah, it is. But I still like it because, as Richard Gere says in "Pretty Woman," "It's the best." The best players in the world, the Olympics notwithstanding.

I was fascinated when, in 1996, the NBA published its list of the 50 greatest players of all time. I put that list on a separate page for your viewing pleasure. This being ten years later, a few players need to be added--five of them, by my estimation: Duncan, Iverson, Kobe, Garnett, and Payton. I'm not definite about Payton.

Tonight the Mavs will deal Miami their third defeat. I hope. You see, I'm also a Mark Cuban fan.

Posted at 05:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I went to Taco Bell for lunch today. It was freezing in the dining area. Being astute and thin of skin, I've noticed that this is common of many fast food restaurants. Why do they keep the temperature so cold for diners? My theory, formed many years ago, is that the thermostat is housed in the kitchen area. To the teens who dwell there amidst griddles and fryers, it's uncomfortably hot. Since they hold dominion over the thermostat, and the last thing on their minds is customer comfort, they crank up the A/C. It's not about us; it's about them. This has been my theory about Fast Food Frigidity. I believe it with all my heart.

Posted at 02:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Sometime during my senior year of college I met Steve Charles, a new reporter for the Huntington Herald Press. I don't remember how we met, but our personalities clicked, we touched base a few more times, and I asked him if he'd be interested in getting an apartment together after I graduated in May 1979. He liked the idea.

We called around, checking possibilities. One lady kindly asked, in sort of a roundabout way, if we were white. Steve grinned at me, and then launched into a speech about federal housing laws and the inappropriateness of refusing to rent to blacks and that he might report her to the appropriate state commission (which he named; being a reporter, he knew that stuff). The poor lady backtracked, the conversation ended, and Steve and I had a good laugh. This, I knew, would be fun.

We found a second-level, two-bedroom apartment beside the river, behind Johnny's Drive-In. I enjoyed Steve's company. We talked about writing and sports and politics and all kinds of fascinating stuff. It was a continuation of my senior year, when I lived off-campus with Clyde and Rick. Steve and I had a great time together…for one week. Then he was offered the editorship of a newspaper in Wickenburg, Ariz., and quickly took off. Johnny let me move into one of his one-bedroom apartments. And thus began ten years alone. Ten years before I married Pam, in 1989.

I've always considered those good years. And they were: full of ministry, lots of accomplishment, lots of productivity. It would be easy to say, "I wouldn't trade those years for anything." But this afternoon I found myself reflecting as I lay in the grass outside reading the chapter "Alone" in the wonderful book Blue Like Jazz, by Donald Miller. Miller describes himself as a recluse who functions well by himself, who leaves parties and church early because he's not real social. "The presence of people would agitate me. I was so used to being able to daydream and keep myself company that other people were an intrusion. It was terribly unhealthy….The soul needs to interact with other people to be healthy."

It's not his best chapter. But it sure made me rethink those ten years. When I came home from work or church each night, my interaction was done. I read lots of books. I watched lots of TV. I wrote freelance articles. But wouldn't a roommate have been great--some guy with whom I could talk about world events, Big Ideas, and Christ? As I lay in the grass this afternoon, looking up from the book, I decided, "Yes, that would have been better." It's a new admission.

I've always eaten lunch alone. In those first few years after graduating, I found that difficult. I would go to Arby's and see a group of Huntington College employees eating together, laughing, discussing Big Ideas. Some would be peers I had attended college with a year or two before. My heart would yearn--I cannot tell you how strongly it yearned--for one of them to say, "Steve, come eat with us. Pull up a chair." Then I could participate in the intellectual stimulation that I had enjoyed throughout college. But as I discovered, though we had been classmates, we now inhabited different worlds, and I was not part of their world. I was never, not once, invited to join them. It hurt. It puzzled me. But after a few years, the yearning stopped. I would read my magazine in one booth while they crowded around a couple tables and made merry. I made peace with eating alone, with not engaging in stimulating discussion about politics and what-have-you.

I've now eaten by myself for 27 years. To an extent, I now value eating alone, viewing another person's presence almost as an intrusion. I take a magazine--The New Yorker, Wired, Newsweek--and read. Just me and the written word. I absorb tons of information. But is this solitariness healthy? If I had 27 years under my belt of interacting with other people over lunch, wouldn't I be better off? And wouldn't it be great if Pam and I worked in the same town and could meet for lunch?

Miller writes, "Jesus wants us interacting, eating together, laughing together, praying together. Loneliness is something that came with the fall. If loving other people is a bit of heaven, then certainly isolation is a bit of hell."

I'm amazed at how much I talk to Pam. This guy who spent so many years alone now becomes Mr. Chatterbox when I get home and Pam asks how my day went. I never tire of talking with my wife. Is this the real me? I think so. At least, it feels more comfortable than the guy who spent so much time alone. It's good that I realize that. Was I perhaps lonely during those years, and just didn't realize it? I always told people I enjoyed being alone, that I functioned just fine by myself. But I now suspect I was a bit self-deluded about that. I function better when I'm engaged with other people.

Tonight Pam and I will watch the NBA finals together. It will be more fun than watching alone. And tonight, I will appreciate that fact a little bit more.

Posted at 07:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Pam and I just returned from the church. Actually, from the little house next to the church, which serves as our Friday night youth center. They were having a little party for the two high school graduates. That meant food and cake and other goodies. We spent three hours there. The group has become a young adult group, rather than a purely high school group. Two of the girls are unwed and pregnant. Three of the guys have spent time in jail. The group, in general, seems to walk with God in shallow, stale water, though I've proven repeatedly that my evaluation of what God is actually doing in people's lives can run equally shallow.

I spent tonight trying to determine who God might be laying on my heart in some special way, persons God may want me to invest something extra in. Turns out it was pretty much all of them. And yet, there were two in particular. They're the ones I mentioned to Pam on the way to the car.

I'm really not sure what to do next. And in such situations, surrounded by other worthy causes and worldly distractions and my own uncertainty, I tend to fink out and not do anything.

Posted at 11:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Today we finally caught up with Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. A long time ago I watched the video of the beheading of Nick Berg--brutal stuff, made me sick. Al-Zarqawi wielded the knife. Now we can watch the video of the house where he died being blown up.

I'm not sorry to see him dead. By no means. But lately I've been reading some stuff by authors who also happen to be in the non-violence camp, and there's so much that they say that is resonating with me, a moderate-to-hard-liner. I'm still not sorry to see Al-Zarqawi dead. But I'm no longer able to rejoice in it, to feel gleeful. I don't know what's happening to me, but curiously, I feel good about my feelings. As if I'm catching a little bit of how Jesus might feel.

Posted at 05:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm a bit disturbed right now. I'm spending the morning at home, waiting for the water softener guy to come. And out back, behind the house to our south, two guys are chainsawing two perfectly good trees and grinding them up in a noisy wood chipper. This makes no sense to me. I almost went out and told them that. "Those are superb trees. Leave them alone."

But now only stumps remain, and all is quiet.

When we moved into this house, a field was in back of our property. That afforded privacy not always available in the suburbs. But during the past six years or so they've been building houses in the field. One of the few lots left is directly behind us. And it looks like they're getting ready to build.

We knew, years ago, that this day would come. So we've been planting trees and bushes at the back of our property, a privacy barrier between us and our eventual neighbor. We have bushes on the side of our house to shield us from those neighbors. They've planted similar bushes. This is the valuable function that plants provide. Welcome to the suburbs.

And now, some idiots have cut down two mature trees, two wonderful privacy barriers. What's with that?

Then I thought of a few paragraphs I read last night in The Irresistible Revolution, a highly subversive book by Shane Claiborne which I fear will chainsaw my conscience for a long time. He said that as our culture makes personal property "private" property--meaning, our home is a sanctuary, and we don't want to be disturbed there--then corporate meeting places become more important. Which is why we spend millions on our sacred shrines. The early church of Acts met in homes, they shared, they were hospitable. Lots of home-to-home stuff. No castle sanctuaries there. So they didn't need separate buildings. Homes sufficed.

Claiborne writes, "So as congregations build larger buildings, gyms, and food courts, we find ourselves less likely to meet in homes and kitchens and around dinner tables. We end up centralizing worship on corporate space or 'on campus.' Hospitality becomes less of a necessity and more of an optional matter, a convenient privilege. On the other hand, as members open their homes and yards and share vehicles and recreation spaces, less and less corporate property is necessary."

I suspect that the early apostles would have chainsawed those trees, just to increase their access to the neighbors.

Posted at 11:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This morning at Starbucks I got the Guatemala Antigua coffee, a mild brew. The chalkboard described it as "elegant and complex." It tasted good. But now I feel like Angelina Jolie. Please make it stop.

Posted at 09:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

As we surveyed the movie listings on Saturday, it came down to "The DaVinci Code" or "X-Men 3." We decided to save "DaVinci" for video, and went to "X-Men." Lots of fun. And yes, we stayed to the end of the closing credits for that final scene. And just what was that all about? Who's Moira?

A couple weeks ago we saw "United 93." At that point, Pam and I hadn't been to the theatre all year. Tax season pretty much takes Pam out of circulation. "United 93" was superb. I found that, from the beginning, I was tense. I knew what was coming, and the memory of the real thing was still fresh. When the movie ended, most people stuck around throughout the credits, all of them. We did. Don't know why. It just seemed appropriate.

Then we've seen a few movies on video recently.

• "A History of Violence." Wow, that was a good movie. And very violent, too, I should add for the kiddies. Aragorn (that's his real name, isn't it?) did a superb piece of acting.
• "Flightplan." This Jodie Foster flick was better than I expected. Or maybe not. I'm not sure what I expected. But it was above average.
• "Domino." Starting watching this Tony Scott movie last night. Fifteen minutes in, I said, "Okay, too much cussing," and we turned it off and put it back in the Netflix envelope.
• "Aeon Flux." A nice futuristic movie with Charlize Theron in an action role. Enjoyed it a lot.

Posted at 12:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Everyone in Fort Wayne has been talking about a tragedy which occurred five weeks ago, when a semi truck crossed the median on I-69 and struck a van carrying people from Taylor University, killing five of them. One girl was in a coma for five weeks, and she was identified as Laura VanRyn (left). But when she came out of the coma, she identified herself as Whitney Cerak (right)--a classmate who had been named among the dead. A case of mistaken identification.

What makes the story extra amazing is the response of the two families involved (especially the VanRyns, who had been keeping a bedside vigil over a girl who, it turns out, was not their daughter after all). I was going to write about this. It's such an unusual, compelling story. But now I see a post by Ed Gebert on his blog about the whole thing. No reason for me to plow the same ground.

Posted at 09:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I finally got around to reading George Barna's "Revolution," a controversial little tome. Our bishop sent a copy to all UB pastors, and it upset some of them. Which I can understand. The book upset me. Barna, in a passive-aggressive way, basically cheers for the demise of the local church. He predicts that in the next 20 years, today's churches will lose a huge percentage of their people, as those parishioners seek spiritual fulfillment outside of the church. This is his "Revolution," a fundamental change in the American religious landscape. In this new world, Barna seems to contend, the truly spiritual warriors will be the people who abandon the church. What a delightful theory.

This is not a new idea to me. In 1993 I read William Hendricks wonderful book "Exit Interviews: Revealing Stories of Why People are Leaving Church." The book told the stories of a number of actual people with real names (something Barna doesn't do), helping us understand their spiritual journey and why they left the church, and how they keep the flame alive. It greatly broadened my view of how God sometimes chooses to work.

[Warning: This is a long post. Excrutiatingly long. Full of half-baked opinions flavored with heaping tablespoons of ignorance, subjectivity, and general immaturity. You're advised to stop. Right now. Seriously.]

We've all met nonChristians who say, "I'm not interesting in becoming a Christian, because I've known so many Christians who are hypocrites." And we say, "Don't give up on Christianity because of Christians."

Barna basically affirms the thought, "I'm not interesting in being part of a local church, because too many local churches are ineffective." To which I say, "Find a good church. They exist everywhere."

But Barna will insist churches still fall short. That it may be better to just go out on your own, apart from the local church, and craft a "do it yourself" Christianity (which I stole from Kevin Miller's review in Christianity Today). Barna says the spiritual life of many people is now fueled by "mini movements" beyond local churches--worship gatherings, parachurch groups, ministries to the poor, etc. These people may still be involved in local churches, but that's not what gives their faith life and vigor. Rather, it's the patchwork of other things. We all, basically, pick and choose to create our own personalized "church."

Again, this is nothing new. For decades, people have looked beyond the church to supplement their spiritual growth. Early in the 1900s people flocked to see barnstorming evangelists (including Billy Graham), supported independent mission movements, and participated in Christian Endeavor (which the church embraced)--all working outside of the local church, though perhaps in tandem with it. Then came Campus Crusade and Campus Life. Christian radio stations and church schools sprouted everywhere. In my own spiritual journey, I remember in 1972 the inter-denominational Bible study at Julie Ray's house in Lake Havasu City, Ariz., where 50 teens might crowd into her living room, practically stacked atop each other. I attended religious rallies of different types. As a young adult, I listened to Christian radio, read Christian books, joined a rental "teaching tape" club. Promise Keepers has been important to me, and now I learn much from other people's blogs on the internet. All of these are resources beyond my local church, and I don't see them as fundamentally different from Barna's mini-movements. He describes them as something new to the Christian landscape. They're not. We just have different ones arising.

Barna says a new generation of Christians is seeking spiritual vitality apart from the church. These "Revolutionaries" are transforming American Christianity as they seek something real and alive and fulfilling. Again--is this supposed to be something new? He could be talking about 1960s Jesus People. He could be talking about people in the 1980s who left traditional churches to become part of the megachurch world—something alive, growing, dynamic, making a difference. The desire for something fresh and alive and meaningful led to the megachurch boom, led to the demise of the traditional Sunday night service and its replacement with intimate small groups, led to the birth of contemporary worship with bands and drama and multimedia.

For that matter, Barna could be talking about people in the late 1700s who became part of Martin Boehm and William Otterbein's movement which eventually took the name "United Brethren in Christ." There is nothing new about a generation wanting genuine, vigorous spirituality. Every generation wants this. Every generation injects freshness and new emphases and new structures into church life.

The churches my parents attended as children bore little resemblance to the churches they chose to attend as young parents. My own generation was influenced greatly by the Jesus People "revolution" (sorry, George, you didn't invent that name), and we gave birth to the megachurch explosion, which transformed—and invigorated—the evangelical landscape in the USA. Megachurches will continue thriving for many years to come.

But even now, many baby boomers (like me), and certainly the younger generations, question some values and practices of megachurches, and are looking for something different. The megachurches tend to be affluent, powerful, highly visible, with a huge emphasis on quality, professional staffing, corporate organizational structures, and, of course, buildings. Never have enough building space. Is all of that really necessary? And so, with the new millennium comes an alternative, the emergent church, characterized by smaller groups which emphasize intimacy. I applaude the emergent church (even as I continue trying to understand it). All of these evolutionary changes in the church are good.

Initially, I thought Barna was talking primarily about the emergent church. But on page 66 he dismisses the emergent church as "not new models, but simply minor refinements of the reigning model." What he's really enamored with is the people who totally separate from what could even remotely resemble a local church, and pursue the faith in different ways. Sure, he continually states that his revolutionaries are often involved in local churches, even highly involved. And he says there will always be a valuable place for a healthy church. But it's clear that his real interest lies outside of the church. The book drips with that sentiment.

Barna doesn't identify leaders of his Revolution; perhaps, the cynic in me muses, he hopes to save that spot for himself. He doesn't name any "mini movements," and in fact hardly identifies anything in this Revolution. He just says it exists and describes it in general terms. It feels like he's making it all up, since there are so few real-world hooks. He makes statements which he says are based on research, but usually doesn't explain anything about the research.

Gary Gilley, an Illinois pastor, wrote a fabulous review of the book. In one paragraph he notes, "Barna is long on hype and hyperbole and pitifully short on details. Not a single quote from a participant in the Revolution is given. Not a footnote. Not the name of one individual or organization. Not one verifiable stance on doctrine or philosophy of ministry. Rather we are inundated with generalities from unknown sources about nebulous beliefs and practices. Still, we are to believe Barna because his 'research' supposedly backs his claims. If this is any indication of the kind of research the Barna Group does, it should give us real pause before we accept its reports at face value."

That's exactly right. Barna doesn't talk about a real movement with real people, real groups, real leaders, real events and meetings. Everything is shadowed in generalities (but based on his research--just trust him on that).

Barna became the bearded guru of Seeker Sensitivity with such books as The Habits of Highly Effective Churches, The Power of Vision (back when nearly every Christian book seemed to have either "power" or "vision" in the title), User-Friendly Churches, and A Step by Step Guide to Church Marketing, none of which would be emergent textbooks. He made his name with the megachurch. Now he is totally enamored with this new trend, and he evidently wants to become their guru. He even developed seven core passions which he says the Revolutionaries follow (which may surprise some of them). I wonder: in another 15-20 years, will Barna write about how people are returning to the church because they discovered how difficult it is to be a disciple apart from a community of believers? Will he criticize churchless Christianity for ignoring (as he does in "Revolution") all of the material in Paul's epistles about church life, the fact that Paul wrote not to individuals but to churches, and that God addresses individual churches in Revelation? Why did Barna ignore all of that Scripture?

Well, I'm rambling. Just spouting off. I'm very sympathetic to the emergent church, intrigued and challenged by it. But Barna's book, and his overall attitude, really soured my stomach. I don't pretend to thoroughly understand what Barna's getting at. I'm just a jerk with a blog. But as much as I think the emergent church is onto some great things, and that it can greatly affect the Christian landscape for the better, I think Barna's playing fast and loose with the church of Jesus Christ.

Posted at 10:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I'm becoming an increasingly big fan of the Dilbert Blog. Scott Adams is truly a hilarious writer, and a great thinker (though twisted). He's not exactly a big fan of Christians or religion in general, and certainly not of Republicans (I love it when he writes about political issues), but I enjoy his stuff regardless. Especially today's post which he titles "Talking to God." It's really quite funny.

I'm not a fan of bloggers who just compile links to other places. I prefer creating my own havoc, rather than lazily recycling somebody else's. But every once in a while I can't help myself, and this is one of those times.

Posted at 04:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)