Why I Hate Testimonies

If you’ve read my blog before you may have noticed something. Well, hopefully you noticed a few things, but one of those being that I poke fun at Baptists from time-to-time. So, I wanted to clarify that my intent at poking fun of Baptists is twofold: first, it’s where I came from; second, most of you are probably Baptist, or have some kind of Baptist background, and I like poking fun of my friends in a teasing kind of way. In other words, since I am from Texas, I can make fun of some Texantricities, but you out-of-staters better watch your back! And the way I pick at Baptists isn’t the strip them down naked and embarrass them kind of thing, it’s the, “C’mon, you know this, I know this, we both find it kind of funny,” kind of thing.

Yeah...this is the kind of thing that I am talking about.

So, that said, let me pick on one of the worst parts of being Baptist—testimonies. Man, I hated testimony time growing up. Say what you will about sharing your testimony in a small group, at church camp or the first week at BSM in college, testimony time was just unbearable for me. And here’s why: we all sound the same…and we are using a formula to share certain things about ourselves. In some ways it is quite efficient, in some ways it is like indecent exposure. You think to yourself, “Okay, this is guys group. That means I need to confess lust, pretend I don’t struggle with it anymore. Mention a story of how I overcame it, and encourage that brother across from me that he will be free someday…like I wish I was…oops, make sure not to say that last part out loud.” Or, if I am in a co-ed BSM group getting to know you setting, I say something like, “Well, I was raised in the church, but I had this experience in summer camp my sophomore year where I understood God was real. And I remember I cried and raised my hands. It was so good. But recently, I have been struggling with my quiet times (true!). I’m only getting like two hours a day (untrue, I actually know that my last quiet time was March 24^th, 1976), and I know the Lord is calling me to more (again, true), because there is so much more for me.”

That was why I hated testimony day. It’s not that I hated the principle behind it, or wanted to reject Scripture concerning the power of the word of our testimonies. It’s just that testimonies have become, how do I say this, more about us than about Jesus in us. Our testimonies have become vaingloriousness instead of the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God into real life. Look at the testimony I shared. “…Mention a story of how ‘I’ overcame it…” That is really what we have replaced things with. We often add a phrase like, “And God helped (showed) me,” or “And then I prayed, and I guess God just…” to cover it up, but really the stories are about how we have overcome things on our own, and shared in a specific preapproved formula.

Yeah...we've all sat in this circle before.

And here’s the deal. That is real life. And that is important. But when our testimony boils down to a rote formula where we plug in the details, we aren’t really sharing our story. We aren’t really testifying what God has done in us…what we have lived. So, in other words we are using a bunch of words that do not communicate the reality of our existence and experience in relation to the actual spiritual journey that we are in and have been through.

It would be akin to going to therapy (or counseling for you good Southern folk, since therapy sounds so scary!) and only sharing the generalized concerns of humankind. Sure, that is a good thing. But you came to therapy for you. You came to get help with your ish (issues for those of you older than 50). By sharing the generalized, “Well, the economy is bad, and a lot of people have to choose between bread and health care,” is a good thought, but it doesn’t address, “But the reason I was sent here is I am a rage-aholic who yells at my kids, ran someone off the road and my wife no longer feels safe around me. Also, I have been binge drinking for two years because of the stresses of work, but can’t tell anyone, because I am a Baptist deacon, and no one can know because it would bring public shame and scorn.” See. Our testimony loses its power, because of formula. And it can separate us from what we really desire, and more importantly…really need.

But there is hope for change. If you have been around me long you probably here me ask: What’s your story? That’s what I say instead of testimony. It’s basically the same thing, but it loses a lot of the baggage and says, “Forget the formula…share what you want to share, don’t share what you don’t.” And the truth is for me it recaptures the intention of what we are after in the first place. We come to a place of understanding who this beautiful stranger in front of us really is, not a list of “appropriate to share sins” that are on a checklist. It also lets me gauge and understand what to share with this person versus that person.

Henri Nouwen talks about the allure of revealing yourself little by little…of maintaining a mystery about you instead of vomiting your life story in the first sitting. For instance, my friend John Moore knows a lot more about me than my friend Jon Quitt. John and I have lived more life together. We have lived more intentional life together. As such, I have shared things with John that I have not with Jon. But, there are certain things of my heart that I have shared with Jon that John still does not know because they are relative to the relationship. And that is the importance of destroying the formula. It allows you the space to be who you are, be safe in the relationship and experience the grace of God as it is today in your life. It is the true testimony of you and me and God today…not a sin confessed 46 times since 1943, because that was expected during testimony time.

So, what’s your story? Where is God intervening today? Where do you need help now? What are the actual significant markers that changed you…not just the ones that make the best story? Those are the things that I want to know. Those are the things that in sharing can change hearts…and reveal who you are and what God is doing. And those are the things that really have the power to change lives. So, next time testimony hour comes about, throw people for a loop. Tell your story. It might be awkward at first, but I bet, can almost guarantee you that it will change the dynamics and may help you make a new friend. And if you’re first, may allow people space to be their genuine selves.

There is Beauty in the Breakdown

Remember the first time you got a thorn stuck in your finger and your grandma got out the tweezers and a needle? And that thorn sucked, but the thought of your grandma ramming that needle and what now appeared to be a pair of pruning sheers into your tiny, little finger caused quite a bit of trepidation. And then when that needle finally hit, the pain was much worse than the actual thorn so you pulled your hand back and argued the virtue of Paul’s thorn in the flesh and how you were willing to develop a little character as long as she would no longer hack away at that thorn. Remember that?



I'm pretty sure this is my grandma.

Well, maybe what you actually said between waves of convulsive tears was, “No. Leave it. The needle is much worse.” It reminds me of what I frequently say whenever I clean my office or bedroom, “It has to get worse before it gets better.” Sometimes you have to destroy some things in order to rebuild them. Sometimes the doctor has to re-break a bone before it can heal properly. Sometimes you have to inflict more pain before true healing can begin.

I started down this track of thought because I have a literal thorn stuck in my thumb, a burn on another finger, a little poison ivy on both ankles and my wrist, a strained Achilles and a random lower back pain surge that doubled me over this morning. It’s really pretty awesome…you know, what you think about when you are pondering what would be the best things in the world combined.

As I was digging into my thumb, attacking the thorn with great gusto I just thought about those moments with my grandma. My grandma understood better than I did with my five years of accumulated knowledge, that the thorn was a hindrance to healing. She knew the needle hurt. She tried to tell me it wouldn’t, because that thorn was more important in the long term. And so, she got firm…and she got the thorn out. And for a few minutes I was miffed. But then an hour later I completely forgot about it. I wasn’t necessarily thankful for how mean she was, err…how much she helped me I mean…obviously that is what I meant.

But something about those encounters has been hitting me this week. Sometimes we have to get a bit rough with ourselves or those around us. Sometimes we have to make others around us endure. Sometimes we have to get a bit pushy. It’s not that we want the other person to endure pain…it’s just…the only way to bring true healing.

Which reminds me of my friend Doug Matthews. Really, Doug was more of a mentor…and one of the most perfectly timed mentors I have ever had. If you have ever heard the story of the mentor who told me to release my rage singing a certain phrase…that was Doug. If not, ask me the story. It may shed some light on why I am the way I am.  Doug really pushed me, like in good ways, to deal with what I was going through…and not just the things I presented, but the things he could identify that were in my life, but I just couldn’t say.

In that season I revisited a song by Frou Frou called “Let Go.” That song, though secular became a mainstay in my quiet times for a few months. And it addressed one of my greatest fears. I had this fear that if I let my issues come to light I was going to lose it. It was really a pretty illegitimate fear. But for some reason I just thought that if I spoke out what was going on inside, chaos was going to break loose all around me. What I learned was it is really quite the opposite. What we keep bottled up is a much greater threat than what we let out. Quite a pair of ducks, eh?

But between Doug and my friends Betsy and Guillermo, the question I was confronted with was, “So, what? What happens if you do lose it? What happens if it gets messy? It gets messy that’s what…and you are messy already just being afraid of getting messy.” So, their questions plus this lyric from that song, “So, let go and jump in, well, what you waiting for, it’s alright, because there’s beauty in the breakdown,” kept playing in my head. And so I decided, “Let’s get messy. Let’s deal with the issues.” It was a great, painful, amazing time of my life.

And, I think there is something about that that hit me again this morning. I put on some Frou Frou and that phrase hit me again, “Because there’s beauty in the breakdown.” There is something beautiful in the messiness of breaking down things. Whether it be preconceived ideas or thorns in our thumbs, or thoughts in our minds that separate us from others, we just need to allow the process to happen.

It reminds me of the Scripture, “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone. But its death will produce many new kernels--a plentiful harvest of new lives” (John 12:24). Sometimes we do our best to revive and resuscitate things in our life that frankly need to die. We hold on to old ways that really haven’t worked in the past, but somehow are so engrained in us that we can’t imagine life without them. Somehow death and decomposition are actually better options.

It reminds me of unhealthy relationships. You see your friend struggling going back to that boyfriend or girlfriend that is terrible for them. They treat your friend like garbage. Your friend doesn’t deserve it, but is so beat down they don’t see any other options. They finally build up the courage and leave. But in a moment of weakness they go back, because it is all they know. But if they could have found the strength to let that relationship die, they could have found new life. If they could have endured a little more pain the healing could have been more complete. That is the kind of thing that is going through my head.

There is something beautiful about the breakdowns in our lives. Sure, at the time they suck. In the midst of it you can’t see anything else around you. I was talking with a buddy last night over coffee and reminded him, from Tolkien’s LOTR: ROTK about Frodo and Samwise’s conversation about heroes. They really didn’t feel heroic at the time of their storm (or story…either way works). They just did what needed to be done. My grandma didn’t feel like a doctor, but she did what had to be done to bring about healing. And she knew that tearing the flesh on that little finger, breaking it down, was what I needed…and that is somehow beautiful to me today.

 

And finally, I broke the thorn in the process this morning. Any of you in Alabama want to dig the rest of the thorn out of me…it’s kind of annoying…and I need a little beauty in my life.

My favorite Psalm

Listen to this album...like, now.

In some ways I am the consummate overachiever. But in my own mind I am quite an underachiever. I find ways to tank the best of efforts...in the worst of times. For some reason that reminds me that you should give this disc a listen. Two quick rabbit trails then back to the meat of this post. First, Tracyanne Campbell, my proposal still stands...marry me! Second, musically, this is not the best album by Camera Obscura, but that mostly has to do with recording quality. Also, they were still developing their sound, BUT, lyrically it's divine. It is the classic cheeky lyricism that defines them. My favorite album is probably My Maudlin Career, but more purist fans will argue Let's Get Out of this Country is better.

One of the ways that my overachieving efforts used to manifest themselves was a habit picked up at old First Baptist Church of Florence, Texas. I couldn't tell you exactly who was the first to teach me, but I suspect it was either Evelyn Permenter or Brent Batson. And really, what they taught me was not bad...not at all actually. But for a kid who loved to earn points with people, I really didn't understand the value of what they taught or the purpose behind it. So, what was it?

That would be highlighting and underlining my Bible. I think my goal as a junior in high school was to underline everything. I wanted to earn a "U" on my chest for being the Bible underline king. I think anytime I read a Scripture, out came the highlighter. Preferably the orange one, because it bled through the paper and looked all the more impressive. It was really quite something to look at that poor Bible. Beaten and abused into submission by a teenage kid who was obviously more spiritual than everyone else, because I mean...look at all those highlights!

Somewhere along the way I lost that Bible. And highlights or not I was a bit devastated. I think, our printed versions of the Bible (just to theologically clarify where this is going) become a bit like our favorite jeans or shoes. We know them so well. They fit perfectly. And when something happens to them, it is oddly kind of emotional. It is like something inside of us gets lost. After I lost that Bible, I think I went quickly through and highlighted the next Bible up with any verse I could think of. And I lost that Bible. I went through like five or six Bibles and just never got around to showing me spiritual prowess in the newest one. Until about October of last year.

But something happened. I didn't highlight anything. As I flip through this copy of the Bible the only thing I have marked here is a bracket around Psalm 16:5-11. Here it is:

The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and my cup;
You support my lot.

The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places;
Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me. 

I will bless the Lord who has counseled me;
Indeed, my mind instructs me in the night.

I have set the Lord continually before me;
Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

Therefore my heart is glad and my glory rejoices;
My flesh also will dwell securely. 

For You will not abandon my soul to Sheol;
Nor will You allow Your Holy One to undergo decay.

You will make known to me the path of life;
In Your presence is fullness of joy;
In Your right hand there are pleasures forever.

I mentioned in a previous post that I read through the Psalter every month. This month makes one year for that practice. I really like it. I think I will probably re-up and do another year. But I think this passage is one that stood out every month. I am always surprised by how early it comes in the Psalter. It usually fell around the 2nd or 3rd of the month. The language is beautiful to me. The message encourages me...and yet, somehow it was never a passage I heard taught or even mentioned growing up. It was also a passage that led to one of my learning experiences this year.

Some of you may know that last fall I applied for a position at the Abbey of Iona. I went through the interview process. But before they came to a decision, I withdrew my name for candidacy. There were just some concerns that I couldn't get around. And the position wasn't exactly what I thought it was. So, in the end, I'll never know if the job would have been offered or not, but I know I made the right choice, not to even put that chance before me.

Yeah...I almost lived here for three years.

So, why did I even apply? Partly because things were rough at work. Partly because it seemed like the dream job. Partly because of Psalm 16: "Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me." When looking at our family history one thing that we know is the Loves were a part of Clan Mackinnon. Our people helped serve in Iona generations ago. We were tied to it. And the possibility of reconnecting with those ancient roots, especially in a place as significant as Iona was too much not to at least try for.

But reason, and I would say wisdom won out for me. There are still a great many Loves in and around this part of Scotland. What is interesting is how many went into two professions: medicine and ministry. That was somehow, before I ever knew about family history, the two areas I wanted to study when I got to college. I wanted to be a medical missionary. Turns out one zoology class was enough to quash pursuit of medicine. But the love of spiritual things stuck with me.

But more than this place, Iona, what I began to realize is that my heritage (at least on my father's life) was that of not just intelligence, but spirituality. Even my family members who don't necessarily gravitate toward our Presbyterian roots, or heck, even Christianity in traditional forms, are all quite spiritual. It is just something ingrained in us. And so this inheritance is something that has marked me. There was something early on I recognized that God was my inheritance. It was almost like being a Levite (which is kind of fun since I have a cousin named Levi!). The world was gonna pass by with this great inventions, or that great fortune, but the Lord would be my inheritance.

Part of the mural at The Cathedral.

When I look at those words a lot of things begin to make sense. My underachieving for instance. I have just not pursued some of the things that I could have. I was too distracted by "that church thing" I did. It also kind of made sense why I worked so hard to find myself approved by church people. Because they are my family...just like the people of the Bible, and the Saints and those converts in Mongolia or Tunisia. The Cathedral of Our Lady of Angels in Los Angeles did a great job depicting "our family." You can see part of that mural to the left here. It depicts the family of God through many generations, callings and nationalities. It is quite impressive in person.

And, so over the course of this year, these words have helped give expression to this emerging thought. The Lord is my inheritance. My heritage is beautiful. God's presence is where the fullness of my joy can be found. And that is how this, I would say somewhat obscure text, has become the bedrock and foundation of the past year. It is how I have begun to understand the garden I have been planted in as it were. I think in all of my struggles for identity and understanding where I fit in, Psalm 16 has helped point me to the ancient paths...to the archaic terminus of where this journey began. It helped me understand that what surrounded me was different, because...well, it really was different.

And so, there it is. Psalm 16. This beautiful passage that communicates that there are those of us who find satisfaction in this spiritual pursuit. There are those of us who make these odd choices, because we are thinking of things different than what others think of. It's not that they are better things, they are just in some regard altogether different. And I'm thankful for finally connecting with that differentness.

Beyond Exhibitionism to Healing

So, I want to make something clear about yesterday's blog post (and as a side note, this post will go beyond sex into just open discussion).

This is was not the intention of yesterday's post.

This is more like it.

What I mean when I say we need to talk about sex is that we need to remove the shame and guilt and condemnation of sex. It really is that simple. In some ways we need to remove the mystery of sex. That said, there will always be mystery with sex. It is alluring. But it doesn't have to be forbidden fruit cast before us that we seek out in dark corners and shady alleys. It needs to be something that we can talk about with others. But here's the transition for this post to the broader sense: in good, safe, pure environments with people we trust.

Healing doesn't mean that we must bare our wounds to everyone....This doesn't mean that we should constantly tell the world how much we are hurting. This can become what (Henri J.M.) Nouwen calls "spiritual exhibitionism." - Rabbi Ruth Gais

I came across this while I was looking for a Nouwen quote on spiritual exhibitionism. It pretty well sums up where I am headed. We need to become a people comfortable with our brokenness, comfortable with things we normally try to cover up, and bring to light topics that we reserve for the darkness. But we also need to be weary of being exhibitionists. In our quest to becoming open people, we need to find the balance of sharing, but not too much.

This was something that my friends and I back home in Texas really strove for. The word we used at the time was vulnerability. I like that word. It implies a certain amount of trust with the person you are sharing. It implies that you are willing to expose your weakness, because there is safety. And that is what we were striving for. We were trying to expose those rough places in our lives. At times, we probably went too far, but we really did strike a great balance.

I often think back to a classic picture that we all have some feelings toward. The picture of a confessional booth. I think a lot of Protestants get pretty skeptical when it comes to confessionals. We really take to the "Me and God" concept. We ride that horse into the ground. But there is good biblical precedent for confession of sins to one another, and not just to God. It is a practice that I think many need to take part in.

Why?

Not just because it is good to follow Scripture, but also, and many of us know this, it is good for the soul to relieve ourselves of burdens that we have kept hidden. When you are known by others, for better AND worse you are able to stop hiding. There is a lot of power in that. Starting that process is a most difficult thing. But once you begin confessions seem to flow out of you. It is pretty interesting.

But that is also the place where we have to guard ourselves...and protect others. So, just for the sake of illustration, I'll present a conversation that is good to have, and show how it could turn the corner into exhibitionism.

Two guys (or girls if you want...I don't exclude) are pretty good friends. They do the church thing. They try to be faithful, but one in particular is struggling with an addiction to pornography. He asks to meet with the other for some conversation and prayer. The two meet at one of their homes (because let's be frank here, Starbucks may not be the best place for that convo. Speaking of Starbucks, have I got a story for you sometime!!! Just ask me). The two decide that they are going to do some sort of accountability and begin to share.

It comes time for the dude with pornography issues to share. He confesses that he is struggling x many times a day/week. These are usually the reasons why. This time of day is particularly difficult. These are the feelings has toward himself...toward others after...toward God...toward those he has seen in the videos. He then talks about a history that led him to this place. He talks about why he wants to quit. He talks about what he has tried to quit. He may talk about a few other things as well. And I would say all of that is good healthy conversation.

But the moment the conversation dips into the types of porn and descriptions of the porn, or even, and this would be real disturbing, his physical experience when watching porn it has gone too far. That is what Nouwen refers to. That is spiritual exhibitionism. And it is where we pass the lines of healing, and is actually a form of emotional sadism. It becomes a place where we derive satisfaction from inflicting pain and shame upon ourselves. And that my friends, we must avoid. And, even as I write this it is almost like history just unveiled herself a little. These are probably the things that helped create our shame-based purity culture. Because in the process, both friends get a little slimed here. And in the long run, healing is left in the dust in the name of exposure.

So, let's move past the illustration and to the heart of what you may be feeling now (because I am feeling this way a bit myself). That is kind of scary. I may cross the line. I will never feel that kind of trust. I don't even know who I could talk to about these things. I don't think my problems are that bad. All of these thoughts are valid. But I would say, you know your heart. You know your soul. You know those feelings that nag at you. You probably also know some men or women that you could talk to. The problem is choosing to engage in confession.

And in the words of my friend Jon, you will mess up. You will go too far. But we learn through process. Doctors don't just study theory. They don't just read books and then all of a sudden they are a doctor before they ever see an actual human body. It wouldn't work. In the same regard, we don't study all about being vulnerable and get it perfect. We are human. We make mistakes. But, we trust that it is best. And we learn to confess. And that is what brings healing. Shame can't attack what is in the light. Sure, you may be ashamed for a week or two, and may even try to dodge your friend. But what that friend is still there, and may even have similar struggles, that shame starts to remove itself.

So, what is the conclusion? How does this end? With us learning to share ourselves with community. Learning that we are not so alone. But also learning the boundaries that protect us and keep us from compounding the problem. Will it be messy? Most definitely. Will it be worth? Again. Most definitely. So, here's to healing friend.

Let's Talk about Sex

So, before I get started here, I have a quick message for my friends Betsy, Georgia, Laurie and Jennie: Hey ladies.

Okay, now that a private joke amongst old friends is done, I present to you Christian Sex Talk!

When I finally got around to taking Christian Ethics at Fuller, Dr. Glen Stassen was on a break and Dr. Justin Phillips (I haven’t been able to officially call him doctor yet…yay!) taught in his stead. I don’t remember if he and Bethany McKinney (hey...I still ask the iPod friend!) assigned reading for us, or if we self-selected, but somehow, I ended up with Marva Dawn’s book Sexual Character. That book title in itself is not terrible, but the subtitle Beyond Technique to Intimacy…yeesh, made this single dude cringe. But the deal was it started a pattern of thought that changed me quite a bit.

Through the course of that quarter and the next year I just became really comfortable with sex. Friends presented different problems in terms of sexuality and the sex act and it really just didn’t bug me. I can’t tell you why. It was even to the point that I was looking at going to school to be a sex therapist for people in the church. What I realize now is that the shame of sex just evaporated for me. In the words of George Michael, it dawned on me that “Sex is natural, sex is fun” (I just can’t bring myself to type the rest of the lyric though!).

Rachel Held Evans has written a lot about his. I like her phrase, “shame-based purity culture.” It’s a great term, especially for us Evangelicals. We are raised with this stigma of “sex” that ruins something that is good and natural. And to exacerbate that the word “sex” itself became so stigmatized that there are a lot of conversations that are now so painfully awkward, parents and ministers are left scratching their heads. How do we talk to pubescent kids about things like masturbation, kissing, relationships and more importantly abuse? If we teach kids that sex is dirty and gross, I would assert we are grooming victims. I think my generation has seen its fair share of men and women taking 20 years or more to finally confess they were victimized, because they were so ashamed at the time of what happened to them.

So, yesterday at church I encountered this culture again. Now, before I go too much further, let me say that I really enjoyed the marriage panel we had. It was actually one of the best church-marriage things I have seen done. So kudos for that. And really, sex wasn’t even the focus, but there was a singular moment when sex took center stage. Someone tweeted the question (yeah…we did questions by tweet, both cool, and now I realize limiting since we probably barred a majority of people over 50 from entering the conversation), “How do you as a couple decompress together? What kinds of activities do you do to take the edge off?”

Great question. And my buddy Will chimed in with a great answer, “Uh. My mother-in-law is here.” This garnered some very appropriate laughter. It was funny. Will continued by saying that he and his wife really did just love sex. It was something special for them. And the laughter continued. We all know that it was good-natured laughter, probably nervous laughter. I mean, this is church. Why would you talk about sex? And the truth is it reflected this same shame-based purity culture that Held Evans writes about. As a congregation we were just uncomfortable with a couple that has been married for 14 years with a couple of kids saying that they enjoy sex. What gives?

This is the culture that I was raised in. This is the culture that I live in. This is the culture that I try to invest my life in. I hang with, and try to indirectly mentor quite a few dudes and gals. I do my best to show that we just do life together, and the day-to-day, mundane things are still spiritual and significant. And, for the most part, I think I do a decent job. There are certain disconnects because I am a Gen X’er hanging with Millennials. Certain things are just radically different. I know 10 years doesn’t seem a lot different in terms of age, but there are certain things I have more in common with 54 year olds than I do with 24 year olds.

But one of the things that translates, and I think this is more church culture than society, is the shame associated with sex. Recently I had an encouragement for a bro about purity. But, because of the nature of it, I thought for a second we would have to go into another room for me to be able to share it. There are just certain words you can’t say. And truth be told, I get where it comes from. I don’t agree with some of our overt denial of the way things are, but it is birthed out of a quest for purity. And I love that in a world of anything goes, there are still people trying to retain their purity. It is beautiful, but even those of us who pursue sexual purity can see the failings of it. It reminds me of the old joke:

Do you know why Baptists don’t have sex? - It could lead to dancing.

Basically, we know that we have gone too far. We know that our quest for purity has led us to a place where we cannot have good, pure, life-altering talks about matters that are of utmost importance. Because the truth is sexuality is just as important as physicality, emotionality, spirituality and intellect in development. It shapes who we are. And when we say: “No. We will not talk about that. When you get married then you can learn about sex,” what we do is cut off the forging of identity…and worse yet, we tell young people to figure out on their own. And so sex becomes a peer taught subject...and I don't know about you, but I remember the education I got in that area during middle school. Not exactly the greatest.

And so my challenge is this: If we know that what we are doing is unhealthy, why do we keep doing it? That would be like finding out your radiator has a leak and driving our car without refilling it or replacing it. Eventually it is going to break…and because it’s the radiator it could destroy the rest of the car. So…let’s try and work this out. How does this sex thing work? How do we talk about it without becoming exhibitionists? I think it’s a conversation worth having.

On Bon Iver, Ecclesiastes and Rob Johnston, Part 2

So, this is Part 2 of the series. You can read the first here. The last post ended this way:

My life is very much meaningless.

But here's the deal...it is also very much beautiful. I have immensely enjoyed my life. Sure, there have been seasons that have not been so great, but I have really enjoyed my life. There are so many things that are great and beautiful about it.

And the story of redemption...mmm...c'mon boy. That is the stuff of legends. That is the story of the hope of hope descending down into a temporal space and time redeeming all of this meaningless toil. That is the story of turning ashes into beauty. And I enjoy it.

For some reason this reminds me of my favorite painting, Lyonel Feininger's Near the Palace. Here it is for you to check out:

I discovered this painting in a Barry Taylor course. I don't remember exactly what the course was called. But I remembered we approached theology through painters who also had biopics done on them. As part of the course we went to the Norton Simon, which was amazing. I went a few additional times once I found out it was free for students. Each time there was something new I discovered that I liked, but every time I would come back and just stare at this painting for probably 10-15 minutes, maybe even up to half an hour. It just...it's beautiful to me. And I haven't found a lot of people who see it the way I see it.

These beautiful, almost geometric lines create this rich contrast. It seems mathematical, yet conveys a deep, resonating emotion inside me. The rich tones, the steeple. The father and the son (at least that is who they are to me). The breaking of the sun onto an otherwise dark time of day. It's beautiful...and yet melancholy. It's perfect. It's Ecclesiastes.

It says to me that yes, in the arch of my life, much is meaningless, but I have love, I have beauty, I have hope. I have life. This meaningless life is beautiful. And that is what Rob was trying to get at. That is why he was saying that Ecclesiastes is so relevant for this generation, for this time of life.

Let's revisit the last Scripture I shared on the other post, Ecclesiastes 8:15 - "So I commend the enjoyment of life, because there is nothing better for a person under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany them in their toil all the days of the life God has given them under the sun." The writer, who has already said, "Meaningless, meaningless. Everything is meaningless," commends us to enjoy life. And that is this word reconciling thing that we are called to do.

In our lefthand we hold this notion that everything is meaningless. In the right hold we hold this commendation to enjoy it. To eat. To drink. To be merry. To find joy in our toil. And that is why it is okay that in the scheme of things our lives are meaningless. But meaninglessness does not mean valueless. And that is where the turn comes.

As Christians, and we share this with some other religions, we have this understanding that God is in the business of redemption. Somehow in the midst of everything that is meaningless God sees value. God saw our lives, saw the trajectory of demise, rejection, hate and war that we had engaged in, stopped and thought, "You know what...even still, I want them. They are worth the sacrifice of everything dear to me."

Gwyneth Paltrow and Luke Wilson in The Royal Tenenbaums.

In a way, it's like we are all in a Wes Anderson flick. Now I know some of you are thinking, "Who is Wes Anderson?" and others are thinking, "His films are a bunch of arthouse, bourgeois decadence that lacks any real merit or substance." To which I would reply, "But it's so pretty." (Nothing like a solid, scholarly critique derailed by kinderspeak!) But hear me out. Anderson creates these worlds where beautiful people are screwed up. Where talented people plateau and digress further than they have any right to. In other words, we find in Anderson's films a picture of our world as it really is. We don't achieve what we want. We get caught up in patterns that infuriate us. Things get to the point of meaninglessness and then something worth holding onto comes along, shakes us out of our stupor, and something so unlovable catches our affections.

And I would say this world is where God steps in, takes hold of us and makes something beautiful. The finished product doesn't look radically different from the initial clay, but the interior gets shaken. The redemption doesn't come with the tools of a cosmetician, it doesn't happen as an outpatient procedure, but it occurs. And that is part of this story of redemption. But then with that comes this invitation to help make others beautiful. And that is real some real beauty happens. We get to step into the meaningless of others lives and speak value.

And so, as I started, saying life is meaningless, I end by saying...life is meaningless, and wonderful, and beautiful. And somehow those things merge (or as my friend Jonathan said the other day "swirl" into the truth. Somehow this beautiful meaningless life is how it is, and how it should be. And that helps keep us from our little god-complexes and taking ourselves too seriously. And helps us enjoy the menial things that captivate us, creating moments that no one else can understand because somehow these beautifully crafted moments capture all that we are and will be...even if that is meaningless. 

On Bon Iver, Ecclesiastes and Rob Johnston, Part 1

So...let's start with my initial inspiration for this post. Watch this:

If you happen to follow me on Twitter and/or Facebook (which I kind of assume is how you found my blog) then you know about my love/hate of Bon Iver. I guess it is actually more of a love/jealousy thing when you get down to it. Their music just blows me away. I don't understand how they are creating this sound. So beautiful. So melancholy. Somehow still makes me happy.

Bon Iver is the latest in a line of bands/musicians that captures this thing that I have called melancholy joy. I think we all have those songs, bands, movies or books that we know are expressly sad, but still somehow bring us joy and even hope. For some it is that cathartic movie that you watched alone at home every Friday night after that break-up. For some it is that album that expressed your grief after you lost someone special. Though they are sad, they still somehow bring immense comfort and joy.

Some examples for me are the movies On a Clear Day and Lars and the Real Girl, and musicians Chris Thile and Joe Purdy. In a sense these are my textbook examples. It's easy to understand when listening to a song like The Beekeeper or I Love the Rain Most what I am trying to communicate. Both of these songs demonstrate a pang of loss in the midst of hope...or reverse that. Either way.

So...now let's scroll back to Fall quarter 2006. I got wait-listed for Theology and Film with Dr. Rob Johnston. I was excited, because somehow I got in. I got the syllabus and was taken aback a little bit. It had to be a typo. There was no way that we were going to read Ecclesiastes every week...twice. Yeah, we had to read that depressing book twice a week. I just didn't get it.

But Rob communicated something in that first class that has stuck with me ever since. And it is one of the starting places for this post: Ecclesiastes is one of the most relevant books for today's society. Whether we acknowledge it or not, we live Ecclesiastes...and that is not as depressing as it sounds. So, here's the deal. This, in my mind is the first part of a two post series about two juxtaposed thoughts on our identity as humans that seem irreconcilable, but are both nonetheless true. More simply? Here are two thoughts that can't seem true at the same time, but somehow are.

Before this gets too depressing...here's a bear playing a trumpet!

Surely the fate of human beings is like that of the animals; the same fate awaits them both: As one dies, so dies the other. All have the same breath; humans have no advantage over animals. Everything is meaningless. All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return. Who knows if the human spirit rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth?” So I saw that there is nothing better for a person than to enjoy their work, because that is their lot. For who can bring them to see what will happen after them? - Ecclesiastes 3:19-22

All go to the same place. All come from the dust. All return to the dust. This is human existence. We all live. We all die. Everything we work toward is then entrusted to others. In other words, as we all know from Ecclesiastes, and is quoted above: everything is meaningless. And we can and should somehow be okay with that.

So, above I posted a Bon Iver video. The reason being was this line: "And at once I knew, I was not magnificent." That lyric has been sticking with me for quite a while. There is something expressly profound about proclaiming the normalcy of our human life. We are not that special. We are not all that talented, all that unique. We are human, just like those around us, just like those that came before us, just like those that will come after us. We just aren't all that different.

Before I came into contact with Bon Iver this same idea was communicated through a Fleet Foxes' song called Helplessness Blues. Here is a little video of that song. I can't really vouch for the video quality, but you can at least hear the song:

The first line is, in my opinion, quintessential melancholy joy:

I was raised up believing I was somehow unique
Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see
And now after some thinking, I'd say I'd rather be
A functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me

The realization that everything special about you is somehow just not true is tough to stomach...but at least the Fleet Foxes communicated it beautifully. It somehow makes it more palatable. There is in this humble lyric of resignation a recognition that it is still okay. It is fine to be normal. It is fine not to be a "snowflake distinct among snowflakes." It is fine to be part of the greater part of Earth and her cycles and not somehow not be one of the movers and shakers who changes everything.

At the end of the day, my life is not that special. At the end of my life I will return to the dust. All I have is to enjoy this meaningless life. Or as it says in chapter 8 of this biblical text, "So I commend the enjoyment of life, because there is nothing better for a person under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany them in their toil all the days of the life God has given them under the sun" (verse 15). 

So, in summary, there is nothing better for me to do than enjoy this meaningless life that is not all that unique. There is nothing better that will come about than to somehow enjoy my labor, eat, drink and be merry. My soul will be all the better for acknowledging that there is nothing that great about me. Somehow a thought so depressing, so melancholy so anti everything that I was raised to believe is truth. My life is very much meaningless.