What Happens when Eden is Full of Weeds?

Some people write because they are gifted at shaping sentences into beautiful, poetic expressions. Holding a book from a gifted writer is like drinking out of a stemmed glass of fine crystal. The look and feel is captivating, even when the wine inside was poured from a cardboard box. Other people write because they have a story worth telling. Depending on the significance of the narrative the quality of the serving cup can be somewhat overlooked. So when you find a writer who not only has the talent for words but also a tale to tell, you have a found a rare gift.

When I started reading Sarah Cunningham’s second book, Picking Dandelions, I knew I had found one of those memoirs that were worth championing both for its prose and its purpose. Often times Christian books seem nothing more than an outline from a speaker’s favorite sermon that have been fluffed up to fit between the covers. Even when the message is worth sharing the art of story telling lacks any creativity that gives the book real body. But my early response to Picking Dandelions was that Sarah Cunningham could write. And as I continued, fully enjoying her story telling, I recognized its significance as well.

Cunningham describes her “Search for faith among life’s weeds” from her days of growing up the daughter of a Baptist minister to her current roles as a teacher and new mother. Along the way she recognizes that her faith wasn’t a “one and done” event like a sinner’s prayer, but incorporates a lifetime of growing. Her journey to and through this understanding is full of imagery that will pull the reader into their own faith pilgrimage as well.

Though broken into nine sections, Cunningham’s book has three main parts. The first two sections tell of the observations she had about faith as a child and adolescent. The next couple of sections concentrate on the segment of her life when she attempted to change the world around her. (There is a very poignant section where she describes her various outreach positions that sprung from her internships while at a Christian college and her staff roles at a church.) About half way through the book her energies are turned inwards as she realizes her attempts at creating a new Eden means she has to embody that garden within herself.

What does it mean to change? Does it matter if your faith is stale? How do you go about dealing with spiritual weeds? Cunningham asks these questions of herself, never getting preachy with the readers, which make this dandelion wine a rare, and worth imbibing, vintage.

Sarah Cunningham is the author of Dear Church: Letters from a Disillusioned Generation, and a contributor to several books, including unChristian. Sarah, her husband, Chuck, and their son, Justus, live with their manic Jack Russell terrier in Jackson, Michigan. They attend a church plant called Rivertree. Find out more at www.sarahcunningham.org.

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Why I Blog

Writing is an important way for me to process. Sometimes I sit down at the keyboard with some thoughts and feelings swirling round inside me. Often it’s late at night after the rest of the family is sleeping that my soul feels creative. I turn on some reflective music, fix a hot drink, and let my fingers start running. Usually about paragraph four or five the tears, the humor, or the relinquishment starts to flow and I feel a cathartic release.

Blogging, letting those expressions be examined by other readers and writers, has been encouraging for me as well. Though some friends think my words are better left in a locked diary, it is within the vulnerability of providing access to my soul that I’m finding community and ongoing healing.

I write about my journey from fear to love, from rules to relationships, and from religion to freedom mostly for my own sanity. That these articles might also encourage someone else on a similar path is an amazing reward. I’ve made several new friends through this outlet and some readers come back to these pages having founds something valuable that they connect with.

Yesterday I was surprised when I received an email from the “Biblical Learning Blog” (at http://www.biblecollege.org) that they included Captain’s Blog in their list of Top 50 Ecumenical Blogs. They included it in a section for blogs that are “Reaching Out.” I am humbled that someone would see my writing as outward focused when many times I’m just pulling out what I find on the inside.

So today I just wanted to say, “Thank you!” for reading along and encouraging me to write.

Here’s a description of the Top 50 Ecumenical Blogs.

Christian church is prolific in America, but each church has its own belief systems, guidelines and perspectives. The ecumenical movement seeks to overcome these barriers among churches to unify congregations with cooperation and a better understanding among religions. In that vein, we offer fifty ecumenical blogs, or blogs that seek to overcome church barriers to offer outreach to anyone, no matter their beliefs or creeds.

This universal Christian unity often is found in churches that open their doors to people of various faiths…but that’s not where we went with this list. While some blogs originate from Lutheran or Catholic or even Buddhist backgrounds, the focus is on outreach and a ‘flattening’ of the faith to common ground.

That said, the list below is divided into categories that range from ‘ecumenism in general’ to emergent outreach. In between these categories, you can find blogs that are by and for women, a theological approach and general outreach to a wide range of people. Each link within the categories is listed in alphabetical order to show that we do not favor one blog over another.

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I Miss that Smell

I’ve never smelled anything more putrid than the stench that was the air in New Orleans after hurricane Katrina. It’s hard to describe—wet, rotting decay; abandonment mixed with carelessness; devastation saturated with salty tears. It made a person gag, even behind a mask.

I miss that smell.

The odor was so bad that when my friends and I fled north to get out of Rita’s way the first thing we said when we rolled down the van windows in Jackson, Mississippi was a surprising, “Oh!” at the clean air.

I don’t miss the smell because there was anything pleasant about it. But in the same way pain is a reminder that you are alive, breathing post-apocalypse stench means that you are right at ground zero.

I’ve never worked so hard in my life as I did gutting homes that first week I spent on the outskirts of the Big Easy. I’ve never been on a more worthwhile mission. I’ve never been more proud of my surrounding friends and sure of my call. I’ve never looked at Jesus the same since wearing his work boots.

I miss that smell.

This week New Orleans smells different. They are getting ready for a super, big party. Bourbon Street is flowing with both spirits and spirit. Everyone is a Saint. This is so much more than a football game and I’m rooting and cheering for the city with anticipation. On Sunday my house will smell like a Cajun kitchen as I cook up dishes I grew to love on my three trips to Louisiana.

But as much as I’m excited for New Orleans, as much as I enjoy football, as much as I’d like to visit my NOLA friends and celebrate with them in person, I’d go somewhere else if I had a ticket. I’d go find ground zero.

I miss that smell.

Jesus’ work boots stared at me today from the upper shelf in my closet. I took them down, inspected them and grieved that I scrubbed them so well when I got home. I sniffed them, but they smell too clean, almost like they aren’t his.

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On Adopting Haitian Orphans

Ever since the earthquake, and the stories, and the pictures, I’ve been moved. Here is a bit of my processing.

I’m quite happy with the age of my kids and the freedom that we have to be mobile without strollers. The oldest is almost 17, the youngest almost 10, and there are two more sandwiched in the middle at 15 and 12. Trading diaper bags for sports equipment has been a wonderful evolution. I love babies, but I’m done raising them.

On the other hand, I look at the images of these new orphans being projected life-size onto the blank wall that serves as our TV screen. I look around our home. I have to admit, we have room, we have food, we have love. Maybe I’m not done.

I bring the issue up with my wife Jamie, but she is way ahead of me. She’s always had room in her heart for more kids, especially if it would bring some culture to our blond haired, blue-eyed world. I bring it up with the kids. “What would you guys think of adding another little boy to the family, maybe one Renton’s age? That way he’d have someone close to his age to grow up with and show him around school.” They were all for the idea. Renton even sat down to send me an email before he went to bed that night. “Dear Dad, I think I’d like to wait to have my birthday party until the new brother is here with us. Then we could really have a party!”

On the other hand, I’ve found out that it isn’t all that easy adopting a child from Haiti. It wasn’t before the earthquake and it isn’t now. It can take 2-3 years. It can cost between $25,000-$30,000. Somebody has made this a business. Somebody is making a killing.

These kids deserve to have a chance in life. So much has been shaken from them and there are those of us that are positioned in this world in such a way that we could make a difference. Aren’t we obligated to bring them into our homes?

On the other hand, what sort of a difference are we supposed to make? Is it more loving to help the children find their remaining families? Is it more loving to help provide for them so they can stay in their country and be raised in their beautiful culture?

People from just down the street from me decided to do something about all this. You’ve probably heard about them on the news. A church from here in Idaho was already planning to build an orphanage in Haiti before the quake struck. Once hell broke loose ten people in the congregation sped down to the Island to see what kind of refuge they could quickly provide. I have no reason to doubt their motives.

On the other hand the government of Haiti doubts their actions. Seems that not all of the 30 kids they rounded up to take across the border into the Dominican Republic were actually orphans. Some of the kids were told that they were just going to Bible camp. These Christians may not be slave traders, but they still did something criminally wrong.

Possibly they were just naïve.

On the other hand, we Americans sure seem to know what is best for everybody else in the world, don’t we? Our biggest crime may be our pride. I wonder what would happen if we took the time to listen.

Today I heard the story of a Haitian mother who was discussing with a reporter the hard decision she would have to make about sending her child to live with someone else. Not only was she torn with the idea of being separated from her child, but she’d have to decide which child of hers to send. Maybe I could adopt her child. Maybe I could make it so he could always be in contact with his biological family. Maybe I could take him back for reunions every other summer.

On the other hand, maybe I could help this mother out so she never has to send her son away in the first place.

My heart is drawn to a young girl, Merry Philistine, that we sponsored in Haiti from elementary through high school. I remember her letters and her smile. I pray that she and her little girl are safe. I think about asking Compassion International to see if they can find her.

On the other hand, I wonder if it would be better to ask Compassion International to find us another little girl to sponsor, maybe someone like Merry’s child.

I think about the Haitian government and how they are working hard to protect their children from being kidnapped, sold as sex slaves, and other horrific situations.

On the other hand I look at the politicians and bureaucrats in Haiti that have made a business out of the adoption process. I wonder how this is much different than the slave trade they say there are protecting the children from.

Finaly, I think I could safely label Jesus as a pacifist. He tended to keep his battles to spiritual ones, choosing not to pick up rocks, not to encourage sword play, even foregoing vengeance in exchange for forgiveness towards those who tortured and killed him.

On the other hand Matthew, Mark, and Luke all record the radical statement of warning that Jesus pronounces to those who would harm children. He said it would be better for them to suffer a violent death of drowning than the doomsday that is in store for them.

I have more hands here than I have arms. I have more conflicting thoughts than I know what to do with. But I think what I want to say for now is this: can we please thoughtfully, prayerfully, selflessly, and lovingly take care of these children?

Images from USA Today

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Monday Night Fumble

Jason Elam, a famous NFL placekicker for the Denver Broncos started writing a series of thriller novels once he retired from football. His stories are based on a professional football player named Riley Covington who gets pulled into an anti-terrorism unit after bombing attacks on US soil. Monday Night Jihad is the first book in the series and provides the background for Covington and his team whose stories have now stretched into three books (including “Blown Coverage” and “Black Out”).

Elam doesn’t write these books alone, he has partnered with his pastor, Steve Yohn, to help include a Christian element to the main character and to the story line. Elam says his purpose was to honor the real Jesus of the Bible and help correct those who have distorted his image. His second stated goal in writing this book was “to contrast the more radical elements of Islam with what I view as true Christianity.”

Unfortunately those sections of the book where Riley Covington gets religious are mostly awkward. It would have been a more entertaining read without those elements, and as it stands I doubt that this novel really tackles the distortions of Jesus or informs about Islamic terrorists in such a way that it is a game changer for the readers.

I was also very distracted by the use of the PFL (Professional Football League) instead of the NFL. Elam copies NFL team cities, their colors, and reputations while making slight changes to their mascots. (The Detroit Lions are the Wildcats, the LA Raiders are the Bandits and the Denver Broncos are the Mustangs.) Possibly Elam isn’t allowed to use actual NFL names in his writing, I’m not sure, but in not doing so he put in unnecessary speed bumps in the chapters that dealt with football. This was especially true when the PFL players were compared to real people who played in the NFL.

Other complaints had to do with the treatment of Muslim people and their religion. Although Elam attemtped to show some constraint by having a member on the anti-terrorist team be a Muslim it didn’t work. This person’s faith, though moderate, is presented as shallow. This story is pretty fear-based as it deals with the Islamic faith.

Though terrorism is a real issue today some of the responses to it in the book were unnecessary, including torture. There was more correction spent on careless agents than those who tortured information out of a prisoner. It certainly didn’t come across as true Christianity.

I didn’t care that the story was a bit far fetched, that it was full of testosterone, and that it hardly had any women in the book at all. I was entertained. I definitely did not want to put the book down once I started reading it as I was intrigued with the direction the story would go, despite the turnovers that I’ve mentioned above.

I wouldn’t suggest this book to people trying to love Muslims, or to those trying to get a clearer picture of the Biblical Jesus. I would, however, read another one of these Riley Covington stories just for the machismo-loving fun of it.

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It’s "Doppelgänger Week" on Facebook. Who do you look like?

It’s "Doppelgänger Week" on Facebook. Rules are that you are supposed to change your profile pic to someone famous you've been told you resemble. Oh ya, and then pass it on.

Well, I thought I could use some help figuring out who I look like, so I went to www.celebrity.myheritage.com and loaded up this picture. I figured it was the most recent, straight on head-shot I had.

I was amazed, startled, humored and maddened at what they came up with. See for yourself.

Hmm. They think I look most like Shimon Peres - Current President of the State of Israel

I look like Count Basie - an amazing American Jazz Pianist, or at least his forehead

I can't change what I don't acknowledge - they think I look like Dr. Phil.

I resemble the great military leader, Colin Powell

I am funny like John Cleese

I box like Jack Dempsey!

Everybody loves me when I look like Ray Ramano

I am Marvin Gaye

I conduct like Seiji Ozawa

But who in the heck made up this program? I don't resemble any New York Yankee, especially Derek Jeter!

___________________________________________

Actually, I think their Celebrity Collage feature is very faulty.

The only famous person I've ever been confused with is Vin Diesel.

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The Gospel According to LOST

Most of the questions people ask about ABC’s epic TV show LOST have to do with the relationship between the characters, the relationship with the Island, and how to fit together all the interconnected threads of the flash forwards/flash backs.

• Who will Kate end up with, Sawyer or Jack?
• Is the Smoke Monster good or bad?
• Is the Island good or bad?
• Where the heck did Claire run off to?
• If Dead is Dead, then what is up with Christian and Locke?
• Who/What is Jacob, and why does his nemesis, the man in black, need to find a loophole in order to kill him?

Fans get into these and ever deeper questions, looking for clues to solve the mythological series by studying characters names, what they read, who they quote, and what they believe in.

One Uber-fan has taken it farther still. Chris Seay is a pastor from Houston that has this crazy habit of looking for the Christian Gospel in all the weird places. He’s written a book looking for spiritual lessons in the disaster of the Enron Fortune 500 company, wrote a book called “The Gospel Reloaded: Exploring Spirituality and Faith in the Matrix." Figuring he was on a roll he turned his Good News microscope to HBO’s violent mob drama, The Sopranos to discover “The Gospel According to Tony Soprano.” And finally he trained his religious radar on a mysterious Island with a group of plane crash survivors, the remains of a deceased kibbutz of scientists, and some Others.

Seay has done a great job of not only piecing together the life issues of each of the survivors, but also seeing how their narratives impact the larger story. For instance, when sharing about the Korean character, Jin, Seay proposes the following: “Every man and woman on the island hurts, but as we watch their stories unfold, we learn that the source of their deepest wounds is almost always paternal. Only one character on this island seems to have a loving and honorable father, which may be why he often seems so different from his fellow castaways.” Seay goes on in this chapter focused on Jin to share the biblical story of the prodigal son and how the story of a loving father can make a difference to a son who has wandered away to seek his own fortune.

Seay does this with many of the main characters and story lines, sometimes connecting biblical threads because of tip offs within the TV story itself, and others by pulling in his background in his role as President of the Ecclesia Bible Society and his time spent as a pastor. He writes about the clash between faith and reason (think Locke and Jack), the struggle with guilt (think Kate, Sayid, and Eko), and the dichotomy between fatalism and fate (think Hurley and Faraday).

If you’ve enjoyed the TV program, you will enjoy reading The Gospel According to Lost and taking a deeper, spiritual look into the mysteries surrounding the story. You may not agree with every angle that Seay has taken, but you probably don’t agree with your spouse over who Kate is going to end up with anyway.

Pastor Chris Seay gives his ideas of where the story line is going in this final season of LOST. Check it out below!

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Today, I’ve been Thinking

Today, I’ve been thinking that I’d share some random thoughts here on my blog. I saw Sarah Cunningham doing this over at her blog yesterday and some of her friends joined right in. I hope that happens here too.

Today, I’ve been thinking I was very foolish not to have written down the dates to hear Sister Helen Prejean speak at the local Nazarene University. (Her bestselling book about the death penalty was the basis of the movie "Dead Man Walking,"). Her speech was last night. I missed it.

Today, I’ve been thinking about my youngest daughter, Bonnie J, turning 12 tomorrow. I remember my 12th birthday vividly and want to make Bonnie’s special too.

Today, I’ve been thinking about the huge difference between those that say, “We should…” versus those who simply act on it.

Today, I’ve been thinking about my friend Chris who works at Zondervan and for the gentle nudge he gave me to write book reviews. Thank you for your encouragement!

So how about you? What have you been thinking about today?

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When Reality is Disappointing

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Shattered, Shaken and Stirred

Shattered, Shaken & Stirred sounds like it could be a new way for James Bond to order his martinis; instead what Gilbert Ahrens serves up in his book is how he and his wife pick up the pieces of their lives after a horrific car wreck. Imagine seeing the lights of an oncoming dragon in the shape of a vehicle come flying straight at you and your family without any time to get out of the way.

“It was like a bomb had gone off. Our car came to a dead stop in an unnaturally short amount of time. There was a sickening ‘thud,’ much like the sound you experience when you hit your forehead with the butt of your hand, only worse. It was not a ‘bang’ that comes form an explosion nearby. The ‘Thud’ meant that we were in the explosion: we were part of it. And it became part of us. Forever”

Many times a tragedy of this magnitude (which left Gil’s wife Kim paralyzed) will kill the soul, destroy a marriage, and continue destruction long after the initial, physical trauma. Recovery and healing, which is so a multi-faceted, is a journey a thousand miles longer than the crash. Gil relates, in a very honest and vulnerable way, his family’s long, slow trek back down the path of life.

There is much in this story that other victims will relate to: shoddy care at hospitals, complications with pain meds, the duplicity of insurance companies, and the limitations of the justice system. In this martini of destruction the betrayal from a family member becomes the final twist of sourness. But Gil and Kim do not continue to drink the bitter poison. Instead they learn to live loved.

Gil writes this book to his daughter Olivia, who was an infant at the time of the accident, secured safely in a new child seat and no doubt surrounded by many angels. She was of course too young to remember the accident but is living with the repercussions from it with her parents every day. This book will help her understand the context of their immediate situation. That we readers have been given an invitation to look in to this intimate story is a privilege.

If you’ve experienced the dragon bearing down on you, this book may give you some good tools for sorting through the wreckage. If you’ve remained free from these kinds of tragedies, this story will help you understand the journey of those who have. Either way, this one is worth digesting.

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