I've been fortunate this week to spend more time with my kids than I normally do. My wife has been out of town and my only conversation partners have been my six and nine year old daughters. As usual, I found wisdom from the mouths of babes...Everyone knows that all good conversations eventually point to Christmas, and being true to expectations, ours meandered from school to church to classmates to Santa Claus.
"Some kids at school say that Santa isn't real" my nine year old says.
I respond "Well - what do you think?"
"I don't tell them any more, since they're just looking for a way to make fun of me no matter what I say... But I do still believe."
"Santa is good to believe in..." I wisely respond.
Then the kicker...
"Do you think Santa brings gifts to those kids who don't believe in him?"
I was lost. I wanted to say - "Of course not!"
I stammered "I'm sure they get gifts from their parents". Deftly avoiding the real question.
But I got to thinking - what are we teaching our children when their one of the few "special" characters in their lives only brings treats and goodies to kids who profess their belief in him? What are we saying when we claim that "naughty or nice" is the arbiter of yuletide justice?
What I want to say is - "Naughty or nice, everyone gets gifts from Santa."
I'm not entirely sure why I feel this way, but I think it has something to do with my concept of grace. Capricious grace doesn't attract me any more. It used to. It gave me a sense of identity and accomplishment to know that I was "better" than those terrible sinners (liberals and Democrats a-plenty) out there, and that God loved me more because I behaved correctly and believed the right things.
But that's changed. I'm simply not terribly impressed with a benevolent supernatural being who meters out grace on their terms, to whom they choose.
However... I am drawn increasingly to a characterization of God/diety/whatever that shows the same graciousness towards all creatures, big or small, pretty or ugly, good or bad.
Sure... it's easy to be nice to and love those who worship me and give me their devotion. But what kind of deity loves even those who hate them? How does this vision of God affect how I relate to others, if I operate from the assumption that they are no more special or deserving of grace than me? Hmmm...
Maybe we'll just delete that verse from "Santa Claus is Coming to Town"...
What kind of list is Santa making then? Does God have a list? Am I on it?
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Outsider...
I've always been an outsider - a wandering, itinerant, nomadic, migrant midwesterner. I went to 10 different schools between Kindergarten and High School graduation. I never played organized sports, was never in band or orchestra, and never got past the rank of First Class in Boy Scouts. I don't have BFFs, and have never attended my high school reunion. In fact, I've only been back to that small town in Arkansas twice since 1989. (Yup - I'm from Arkansas)
So... I've never been through enough therapy to help me deal with this sordid, yet wonderfully diverse past. I've got enough emotional baggage from my moving experiences to last me a lifetime. I don't know what to say when folks tell me they still know their childhood friends. I don't currently know any of mine. I'm not even sure if I can remember them. I can't conceive of growing up in the same house all of one's life, and living in the same town. I just can't relate.
The folks I relate to are Army brats, preacher's kids (PKs), and missionary kids (MKs). There's a comraderie in those who don't have an identity tied to a specific geography. We know how to unpack an entire house in less than a week. We know that you can't have a piano, grandma's antique china cabinet, or any other large or heavy items deemed unnecessary due to their bulk. We know how to live in generic, blandly decorated homes because the effort to "undo" any customizations outweigh the benefits of having something other than beige walls.
So I've got issues-a-plenty. But in spite of the whining about my past, there is at least one positive aspect. Because of my own experience, I understand the pain of being an outsider. I know how it feels to come into a new place with no friends, and to show up at school, not knowing anyone, and attempt to somehow make it through the first days and weeks without doing anything spectaclularly idiotic that would forever brand me as nerd, wierdo, slacker, whatever... Since I know how it feels, it pains me to see it happen to someone else. I'm motivated to DO something.
I'm also made keenly aware of grace - the grace of a group of people who have and continue to embrace me, not because I deserve it, but because they too have experienced this kind of grace. And because they have embraced and loved me, I know the grace of God. I'm no longer an outsider - I'm a part of the "in" crowd. Funny thing is - I haven't changed one bit - I simply relaxed, stopped trying to get everyone to like me, and realized that they already did. Kind of like what we hear in church, but never seem to live into - God loves us, even when we don't love back. The part I didn't catch was that if this were true, that no one could really lay claim to special status with God, that we're all pretty messed up and in need of grace. "Ragamuffins" was the word used in the passage that served as a transformational nexus for a new understanding of how much God really loves me.
And because I've experienced grace, I'm motivated to "be" grace for some outsider, some underdog. Because I know how it feels to have experienced grace, I'm motivated to DO something.
It boils down to this for me: Because I know the pain of being an outsider, and the joy of grace, I've been changed. I think that's a big part of what being Christian is about.
So... I've never been through enough therapy to help me deal with this sordid, yet wonderfully diverse past. I've got enough emotional baggage from my moving experiences to last me a lifetime. I don't know what to say when folks tell me they still know their childhood friends. I don't currently know any of mine. I'm not even sure if I can remember them. I can't conceive of growing up in the same house all of one's life, and living in the same town. I just can't relate.
The folks I relate to are Army brats, preacher's kids (PKs), and missionary kids (MKs). There's a comraderie in those who don't have an identity tied to a specific geography. We know how to unpack an entire house in less than a week. We know that you can't have a piano, grandma's antique china cabinet, or any other large or heavy items deemed unnecessary due to their bulk. We know how to live in generic, blandly decorated homes because the effort to "undo" any customizations outweigh the benefits of having something other than beige walls.
So I've got issues-a-plenty. But in spite of the whining about my past, there is at least one positive aspect. Because of my own experience, I understand the pain of being an outsider. I know how it feels to come into a new place with no friends, and to show up at school, not knowing anyone, and attempt to somehow make it through the first days and weeks without doing anything spectaclularly idiotic that would forever brand me as nerd, wierdo, slacker, whatever... Since I know how it feels, it pains me to see it happen to someone else. I'm motivated to DO something.
I'm also made keenly aware of grace - the grace of a group of people who have and continue to embrace me, not because I deserve it, but because they too have experienced this kind of grace. And because they have embraced and loved me, I know the grace of God. I'm no longer an outsider - I'm a part of the "in" crowd. Funny thing is - I haven't changed one bit - I simply relaxed, stopped trying to get everyone to like me, and realized that they already did. Kind of like what we hear in church, but never seem to live into - God loves us, even when we don't love back. The part I didn't catch was that if this were true, that no one could really lay claim to special status with God, that we're all pretty messed up and in need of grace. "Ragamuffins" was the word used in the passage that served as a transformational nexus for a new understanding of how much God really loves me.
And because I've experienced grace, I'm motivated to "be" grace for some outsider, some underdog. Because I know how it feels to have experienced grace, I'm motivated to DO something.
It boils down to this for me: Because I know the pain of being an outsider, and the joy of grace, I've been changed. I think that's a big part of what being Christian is about.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
I Wanna be a Universalist...
In case you hadn't already noticed, I've decided that the ellipsis (...) has fallen into considerable disuse. Due to its current underutilization, and to the fact that my fourth grader hasn't even been introduced to the wonders of the ellipsis, I've taken it upon myself to make it my punctuation of choice... Down with periods, commas, and semicolons!
I do a lot of driving. One hour every day is dedicated to simply getting back and forth to work. The radio stays on the only two stations that seem to make me think:
National Public Radio and the local Classic Rock station.
(Of course I keep the local Christian radio station programmed to appease my more conservative companions)
In the way home last week, words and notes suddently sprang into life...
(To the tune of "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas")
I want to be a universalist Christian.
Only universalism will do.
Don't want no open theism, no silly gnostic ploy.
I want a theology I can live with and enjoy.
OkOk... So it's not all that great, and probably won't be on anyone's top ten list.
So...
I want to be a universalist. The concept of a God who loves creation enough to redeem it - all of it, makes me want to believe it could be true. I know it essentially destroys the concept of freewill, to which I'm firmly attached, but there's something about it that I can't dismiss.
I think the appeal stems from too much hellfire and brimstone preaching received as a kid, which painted a distorted "God doesn't like you until you pray the sinner's prayer" picture of God. A turning point for me was Brennan Manning's "Ragamuffin Gospel", which challenged me to see the universality of the human condition, our propensity to harm others and ourselves, and that the best we can hope for on our own is to "clean ourselves up" a bit, but we're all still really just Ragamuffins. He then paints a wonderful picture of God's grace that can truly transform us by accepting us unconditionally, warts and all...
It wasn't until recently that I was really exposed to those who would carry this concept to its logical conclusion. WNBC (Wednesday Night Book Club) recently worked through Gulley and Mulholland's "If Grace is True", which attempts to make a case for Universalism. Through a mainly narrative and pastoral approach, we're led down a road to meet a God who literallly will not let his creation go. The essence of this approach is that in the presence of God, finally coming face with who we are, and who God is, that we will be unable to resist such grace - even if it takes until we're in the afterlife to experience it.
I think it's been good for me to be introduced to folks who really believe this stuff. Their story makes me want for it to be true, even if I've come to the conclusion that I can't accept it on philosophical grounds. But what would the world look like if we lived like it were true?
I do a lot of driving. One hour every day is dedicated to simply getting back and forth to work. The radio stays on the only two stations that seem to make me think:
National Public Radio and the local Classic Rock station.
(Of course I keep the local Christian radio station programmed to appease my more conservative companions)
In the way home last week, words and notes suddently sprang into life...
(To the tune of "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas")
I want to be a universalist Christian.
Only universalism will do.
Don't want no open theism, no silly gnostic ploy.
I want a theology I can live with and enjoy.
OkOk... So it's not all that great, and probably won't be on anyone's top ten list.
So...
I want to be a universalist. The concept of a God who loves creation enough to redeem it - all of it, makes me want to believe it could be true. I know it essentially destroys the concept of freewill, to which I'm firmly attached, but there's something about it that I can't dismiss.
I think the appeal stems from too much hellfire and brimstone preaching received as a kid, which painted a distorted "God doesn't like you until you pray the sinner's prayer" picture of God. A turning point for me was Brennan Manning's "Ragamuffin Gospel", which challenged me to see the universality of the human condition, our propensity to harm others and ourselves, and that the best we can hope for on our own is to "clean ourselves up" a bit, but we're all still really just Ragamuffins. He then paints a wonderful picture of God's grace that can truly transform us by accepting us unconditionally, warts and all...
It wasn't until recently that I was really exposed to those who would carry this concept to its logical conclusion. WNBC (Wednesday Night Book Club) recently worked through Gulley and Mulholland's "If Grace is True", which attempts to make a case for Universalism. Through a mainly narrative and pastoral approach, we're led down a road to meet a God who literallly will not let his creation go. The essence of this approach is that in the presence of God, finally coming face with who we are, and who God is, that we will be unable to resist such grace - even if it takes until we're in the afterlife to experience it.I think it's been good for me to be introduced to folks who really believe this stuff. Their story makes me want for it to be true, even if I've come to the conclusion that I can't accept it on philosophical grounds. But what would the world look like if we lived like it were true?
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