Thoughts and Musings on Faith, Music, Family, Life

Craving Authenticity

A few years back, I read this book as part of my doctoral studies on preaching in a postmodern culture (and if you have tons of time to kill, you are welcome to read my dissertation HERE).  The book talked about the need for the church to be authentic.  Sounds simple enough, I know.  But its not.  Authenticity is a huge problem for today's church, as more and more congregations are either trying to mirror society with flashy "programs," or swing the other way and draw lines on who is in and who is out - all in the name of "growing their church."  When in fact, what people are desiring most from the church, I think, is for it to be authentic.  To be who they are; to be comfortable in their own skin.  To be real.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, as my church just finished an amazing Bible study on Phyllis Tickle's insightful book The Great Emergence and considered at depth some of these issues.  Then today, this article found its way into my RSS feed.  Please take five minutes to read it.  It's written by a man named Christian Piatt who took a decade hiatus from the church for a variety of reasons.  What brought Christian back to the church, he says, were four things in particular:

• He found a church that defied Christian stereotypes - real people who weren't what he had unfortunately come to expect from those bearing the title "Christian" (the old Gandhi line, "I like your Christ, but I do not like your Christians" comes to mind).
• He found his voice - the church was a place that validated and encouraged him to share his musical gifts.
• He found deeper meaning - meaning that went beyond the standard "heaven and hell" dichotomy and other surface issues that occupy so much of the space of Christianity today.
• He found a sense of belonging - that went beyond simply being a "member" of an "institution."  He was included, validated and welcomed simply for who he was.

He concludes with this powerful statement:

I can hear great sermons online. I can download more great music to my iPod than I can listen to in a lifetime. I can join a country club and feel like I’m a part of some fancy, exclusive group. What I can’t necessarily get in other parts of my life is authenticity.

That'll preach!

As a pastor I see people come and go in the life of the church.  And it's true; folks are often attracted to churches because the preacher preaches great sermons or the church has a great youth ministry or the choir is dynamic or the sanctuary is lovely.  But those kinds of things, I've found, don't sustain them for the long haul. Preachers come and go, the choir will occasionally hit a bum note, and youth eventually do what they're supposed to do and grow up and leave (and, sometimes, their families with them). 

More and more, I'm convinced that what attracts people to a particular church, and what keeps them there, is that they sense at some deep level that their church is authentic.  Not that it has all the answers, but that it's a place where you can ask all the questions.  Not that it knows exactly who it is and what it's called to do in the world, but that it's committed to the ongoing journey of discerning that.  Not that it understands itself by negation (we are not this; we are not that...), but that it understands itself by affirmation (we are this; we are that...).  And most importantly perhaps, not that it is defined by its fears, but that it is defined by its hopes.

I realize I'm a little biased, but I think people would be knocking down the doors to get into a church like that.  What do you think?

The Hunger Games, Harry Potter, Star Wars and the Grand Canyon (the movie, not the place)

As usual, I'm a bit of a "Johnny-come-lately" to The Hunger Games.  I finished the book this past Saturday just in time to see the movie last night with a friend.  The movie kept pretty close to the book, a rarity for such transitions.  Cinematography was spot-on, as was the casting. Let me just say: Donald Sutherland creeps me out for no other reason than simply being Donald Sutherland.

My interest has been piqued by a lot of conversation bubbling up around the over-the-top violence chronicled in the books, highlighted in the horrific notion of kids killing kids.  I must admit this reaction suprises me to an extent.  We live in an actual world marred by immeasurable violence where kids are killing kids every single day - not just one day out of the year in some manufactured sporting event.  We know this exists, and yet most of us simply ignore it.  And yet we get our feathers ruffled over a book?

Okay, stepping off the soapbox now...

The thing that stands out for me in The Hunger Games is the way it engages (albeit brutally) a common motif in children's literature and movies: the nature of "good versus evil."  In that regard, this trilogy has a lot of company.  You don't have to look too far back to see Harry Potter in your rearview mirror.  C.S. Lewis' Perelandra and Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle In Time are other trilogies in the same vein.  Even the Star Wars saga of my generation - and the new trilogy of the current one - follows suit. 

In a sense I guess it shouldn't surprise us that this theme continues to crop up in media intended for a younger audience but experienced by all.  Kids are much more perceptive than we give them credit for and much more in-tune to the brokenness of the world in which they live.  One night a few weeks ago, my youngest son and I were flipping channels and happened upon the story of the American solider who murdered women and children civilians in Afghanistan.  Before I had a chance to quickly switch it to something else per my protective parental instincts, my son pipes up: "Daddy, why did that man do that?  That was wrong."  I tried in my feeble way to unpack some of the purported reasons, except things of such a horrific nature don't have a nice, neat answer.  Likewise, we're left racking our brains as to how President Snow and the Capitol can wield their complete power over the twelve districts and fully engage their sadistic cravings in The Hunger Games.  There is good and there is not-good; and sometimes we're one and sometimes the other.  Try explaining that to a seven-year old.

In truth, stories like The Hunger Games appeal to our young people - and society in general - because they tell a story of unexplainable violence, power struggles, abuse of power, hunger, poverty, etc. that is part of the world they're trying to grow up in.  I'm inclined to think that's a big part of the reason why the books have sold so many copies and the movie made $25 million in its first night.  We don't know what to do in the face of that kind of "evil;" and in some ways we find ourselves sitting right next to Katniss on that fallen tree in the arena, bawling our eyes out. 

So, two thoughts.  First, I found this article particularly helpful - a review of the movie written by a pacifist, nonetheless - that talks about how these books do a fabulous job of indicting violence by portraying violence.  Worth a read.

Second, I can't help but think back to a very different movie that came out in 1991. Grand Canyon didn't have sadistic dictators, evil wizards or man-machine hybrids with a strong tendency for the dark side of the force; but it nevertheless dealt very poignantly with the nature of evil in one particular scene.  Near the beginning of the movie, Kevin Kline’s character has his car break down in a bad part of East L.A. and is waiting on a two truck when five young men drive by, stop, and tell him to get out of his car.  Things are about to take a turn for the worst when the tow truck finally arrives.  The driver, played by Danny Glover, recognizes what's going on and asks the one in charge to let him do his job.  He tells him he's crazy.  And that's when a tow truck driver offers this little tidbit of wisdom on the streets of east L.A.:

You know, the world ain’t supposed to work like this.  Maybe you don’t know that, but this ain’t the way it’s supposed to be.  I’m supposed to be able to do my job without you asking if I can.  That dude is supposed to be able to wait with his car without you ripping him off. Everything’s supposed to be different than what it is.

(Note: There's a great YouTube clip of this scene, but it's totally in Spanish. Just my luck).

Stories like The Hunger Games, Harry Potter, Star Wars and many others appeal to our young folks - and people of all ages - because in their own way they echo Danny Glover's words: Everything's supposed to be different than what it is.  We enjoy reading about those who seek to act on this - people with names like Katniss, Harry and his friends, Luke Skywalker and others.  What's even better, though, are those in the real world who are trying to do the same thing.  Hopefully books and movies like The Hunger Games (and I'm over halfway through the second book) will help us cherish these folks more, and perhaps even inspire us in some small way to add our own name to the list.

You may have noticed I'm not blogging as much...

...and some of you may welcome with this open arms.

It's true, I'm not blogging as frequently as when "Thoughts & Musings" came online a few years ago.  In the early days I typically dropped something two, even three times a week. Yep, I was the one filling up your email inbox or your RSS feed with...well, with thoughts and musings.

I guess it's been for eight or nine month now that I've blogged with much less frequency. Part of that has to do simply with time - unless it's a quick picture or video link, I like to mull over my text, running it through a mental and rhetorical sieve to make sure it says exactly what I want to say, the way I want to say it.  This whole internet thing is unforgiving: once something is put up here, it's there to stay, even if you think you deleted it. So writing a good blog post, or what I hope is a good one, is a bit of a time investment.

But something else has happened, something which has scared me a bit, even though bloggers with much more experience than me tell me it's nothing to worry about.  I've found that (horror of horrors) I don't have as much to say anymore.  Who knows the reason for this.  Maybe other social media outlets like Twitter and our church's blog and sermon blog are satisfying the sort of thing that I used to rely exclusively on this blog for.  Maybe there's a need for me to refine and re-tune this blog's focus - initially I thought leaving it wide open was a good move, but maybe not as much.  Or maybe, as that wonderful little verse in Ecclesiastes tells us, To everything there is a time and a season...  Maybe the day of 6-8 blog posts a month are a thing in the past.  And again, after talking to some long-time blogging friends of mine, this is not only unexpected but perfectly normal and acceptable.

In any case, this is not a "I'm never going to blog again" post.  I think I'll always have something to say for those who care to hear it.  But I've finally grown comfortable with the idea that I may not be doing that as much.

In the meantime, if you really must know what's on my mind and what mischief I'm up to:

• Follow me on Twitter. I use this much more frequently, and if you really want to keep up with my every move and thought for whatever reason, this is the place.
• Subscribe to my sermon blog. I recently started embedding audio so you can listen and/or read, or if you're the multitasking type, do both at the same time.
• Last month I succumbed after much cajoling to Tumblr. Still trying to figure out how to use this best, but check me out there too if you so desire.
• Facebook? Sure, but be advised - I tend not to accept friend requests from people I don't personally know or who are part of the vast encompassing vortex known as the Presbyterian Church (USA).

Most of all, when I do share my thoughts and musings here, know I'm eternally grateful for you checking them out. There's lots of stuff out there, and time is precious.  Thanks for sharing a tiny slice of yours with me.