Thoughts from a day of purging...

"Of making many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body" (Ecc 12:12)

Today, in preparation for doing some renovations in the house, we spent the day doing some much needed "purging". As part of that process, Anna and I went through our collection of books, some of them from our university days, and donated almost all of them.

As we pick the books off the shelves, it was like a journey through time. Each phase of our life journeys were marked by certain books that spoke to us during that time. It was interesting to see how in our earlier days as young Christians we were drawn to books that defined the Christian faith in black and white terms. There were books on how to "defend" our faith, books that spelled out the "definitive Christian position" in no uncertain terms on a variety of ethical issues, books that gave "tried and true" tips on how to "win over secular people", just to name a few. I think both Anna and I felt that in a very real sense, we have "outgrown" those books. Not to say that we are "smarter" than those writers by any means, but we just felt that is not how we approach faith anymore. So, into the donation bin they went.

Then we came upon our big collection of "Christian marriage" books. That was a significant moment for both of us. There was a time when both of us really "believed" in the "recipes for a great marriage" presented in those books. But, after having gone through what happend last year, again, both of us felt a sense of having "outgrown" them. So, all of them ended up in the donation bin.

I think the one main reason why all those Christian books simply don't resonnate with us anymore is that we are both longing for an approach to faith that is not afraid to face up to the ugliness that exist within the "Evangelical Christian religion". Having been betrayed and abandoned by those in our church, we know that the "Christian community" is not always a wonderful place to be. And having seen the hypocrisy of how many Christian leaders having marriages that looked great in church on Sunday mornings but are in shambles once they got into the car, we are tired of the idea that somehow Christians have "cornered the market" on good and healthy marriages.

I think both of us are seeking to be part of a Christian community that takes the reality of "brokenness" seriously. One that is opened to admitting that "Yes, we are broken. None of us are better than anyone else. And yes, that brokenness rear its ugly, really ugly head in our personal lives as well as in our community. And yes, there are times that we as a church end up hurting people. But if we admit it, if we acknowledge it, if we don't pretend we are better than we actually are, then perhaps we can take the first step towards demonstrating what the Gospel is about."

Toward the end of the day, I came across the "trophy" that I was given at my 10th anniversary at my old church. It was a quiet emotional moment for me. As I slowly put the trophy into one of the garbage bags, I felt incredibly sad. It was ironic. I felt sad, because I felt nothing at all...

A New Day...

Last night I had my first performance review by the Board of Directors. Now, after working for over 20 years, I am not usually anxious about these things. But this is my first one since I joined the field of social services, and I found myself somewhat nervous.

As it turned out, they were extremely generous and gracious in all their comments for me. Just as I was starting to "feel the love" in the room, a small voice from the back of my mind said, "Wait...they used to give you glowing reviews for 17 years too..."

Call it another baby step forward, but I was able to say to myself, "Don't think about that anymore. Don't look back. Learn to enjoy and be thankful for this moment..."

Today, as part of my work with poverty and homelessness, we lent out our meeting room to host a focus group on the reality of poverty among new immigrant seniors from the Iranian community. I had the opportunity to welcome the particpants as they arrived. As I shook their hands and greeted them, I saw in their eyes a sense of thankfulness for the opportunity to voice their struggles, and perhaps a glimmer of hope that this will lead to changes in how we understand homelessness and poverty down the road.

After greeting them, I left them to start their meeting. Again I found myself thinking, "Don't think about the past anymore. This is your work today. Be thankful for the opportunity."

As I look outside my office window, the afternoon sun is setting. Perhaps I need to learn to allow the sun from my yesterday to set, so that the new dawn of my tomorrow can finally come.

Tuesdays with Morrie

Last Friday we went with a few friends to see the play "Tuesdays with Morrie", based on the book by Mitch Albom.  The play consisted of a series of conversations between Mitch and his old college professor, Dr. Morrie Schwartz.  The visits always took place on Tuesdays, thus the name of the book.

When Mitch graduated from college, he promised to keep in touch with his favorite professor (Morrie Schwartz), whom he affectionately called "Coach".  But after he left school, life took over busy and it was 16 years later when he by chance found out that Morrie was slowly dying of Lou Gehrig's Disease (ALS).  He decided to go back to Boston to visit Morrie.  What was intended as a one time visit turned into a weekly mentoring session between teacher and pupil.   During those visits, they talked about life, love, work, happiness, forgiveness, music, dancing, egg salad, and just about everything else.  Sometimes the dialogue leaves you laughing, sometimes in tears, but always in thought.

Partly because of what I have gone through in the last year, I found myself deeply resonnating with the message of the play.  "Tuesdays with Morrie" is about teaching and learning.  At first glance it may appear that Morrie was the "teacher" and Mitch was the "student".  But in reality, they are both "students", and life itself was the teacher.

This past year has seen me take apart everything I thought to be "true" in my faith and, in a real way, start from the beginning again.  Through this process, I have come to see a fundamental flaw in ways we approach "faith development" or "Christian Education" in the church:

In the church, faith education, or Christian education is done "incrementally". In other words, you teach something today, and what you teach tomorrow is based on what you have taught yesterday.  You keep building on previous "layers".  This way of learning encourages confidence on what was learned before, as it forms the "foundation" for new learning.  For the most part, this is how we learn things like Science or Mathematics.  For instance, in math, you first learn addition, and then with that as a foundation, you learn multiplication.  

But there is a different way to learn.   Sometimes new things are learned from completely tearing down old learnings and starting fresh again.  For example, when engineers design a car, they build a prototype, they push it to failure, break it down, and then start fresh again to build a better prototype.   Rather than encouraging unquestioned confidence in what was learned before, this way of learning assumes flaws in previous thoughts and ideas.  It seeks to expose them, and then start again.

It seems to me that faith is taught/learned/developed this way.  Faith development needs to begin with an assumption that there are flaws in our understanding.   Rather than blindly holding on what was learned before, faith developes when our previously held ideas are shattered, and we are forced to start over again.   In other words, faith is developed not by discovering how right we were, but by being confronted with how wrong we have been.  For biblical examples, think of Paul, or Peter.

For me, Tuesdays with Morrie reminded me again that the key to unlock this way of learning is humility.  If one needs evidence to show that our ways of "Christian Education" is not working, one needs to look no further than the abundance of arrogance in the church today.

Familiar with grief....

"He was a man of sorrow, familiar with grief..." (Isaiah 53:3)

I am not sure why, but I have been thinking about these words a lot lately.

You know how something can become so familiar that you hardly even notice it's there anymore? Like an old pair of jeans, it feels so much like a part of you. Until one day you put on a different pair and you go, "Whoa, this is different!"

Each night I drift to sleep hearing the familiar voices of rejection and judgement. Each day I wake to that familiar ache of emptiness and loneliness. Like that old pair of jeans, grief has become something I am so familiar with....

Then, something remarkable slowly began to happen. For the first time in my life, I felt as though I was...getting to know Jesus. I feel like I am beginning to understand what it was like for him to be betrayed by those whom he trusted and loved, to be condemned, judged and rejected. To be a man who is, like Isaiah says, familar with grief.

I find that I no longer look to Jesus for "healing" or "deliverance" or to pray and ask for the any number of things I used to preach about. Instead, I found myself looking up this morning, saying (praying?!). "It must have been so hard for you..."