Want to actually understand what is going on with the US economy?

Listen to these great podcasts- mortgage and banking crises explained in normal, understandable language.

This American Life – Episode 355: Giant Pool of Money

This American Life – Episode 375: Bad Bank

This American Life, by the way, is an awesome radio show / podcast, which basically just interviews regular people and tells their stories. Every week has a different theme. Very good if you’re something like a sociology major, or aspiring writer, or any kind of person who’s interested in the diversity of life experiences in this country called America (I myself could tell you, and maybe will, sometime, how many interesting people you can find in just one building).

Also, once again we’ve had a hiatus. Basically this whole school year has been a hiatus for this blog.

But.

I refuse to let the dream die. =)

The blog lives on.

1 Corinthians: Reflection on Chapter 1

“Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? 21For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe. 22For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, 23but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, 24but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. 25For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.

26For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. 27But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; 28God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, 29so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. 30And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, 31so that, as it is written, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.”"

1 Corinthians 1:20-30

I am weak, but Christ is strong. Can I confess this? My salvation does not come from my own strength and understanding. It is a hard thing, to need help. This is the place where something in me dies. This is where I am freed, and begin to live. In open confession of brokenness, in return to the open arms of God, something new is sparked within me, and I begin to mature in Christ. In the words of Paul, I am “being saved”. I am one of the saints, the “set apart”. What does that mean? Right now, I can tell you that it means pain. It hurts to die to oneself. It hurts to constantly have to relearn what true wisdom, strength, and power are. But I also rejoice. As God has worked in me, I have come to see the wisdom of his foolishness, the greatness of that different way in which he works. I have experienced it in my life. Though stubborn, I welcome the outpouring of his grace, even though it brings discomfort, even though it brings the unexpected.
However, that doesn’t mean that it still doesn’t look like foolishness sometimes. I take joy that Christ would use a broken person like me, but often lose heart at the brokenness of the church, of the many mistakes the “saints” have made throughout history.  God is saving the world through a man who died, a “rebellious people”, and an old book? Often, I feel inclined to trust instead in what I understand, what I can touch: modern sensibilities, American pragmatism, the wisdom of the universities, the march of technology, the comfort of middle-class suburban life.

True Allegiance

“They live in their own native lands, but as aliens; as citizens they share all things with others; but like aliens, suffer all things… Every foreign country is to them as their native country, and every native land as a foreign country…”

Living as I do in the midst of so much Christian nationalism, in which to be un-Christian means to be un-American (and vice versa), these sentences hit me with a blunt force. How it restored my hope, to read such a clear statement that we follow and serve a King whose suffering love extends to all peoples, and that as his followers we are to be known for the same.

“They are passing their days on earth, but are citizens of heaven. They obey the appointed laws, and go beyond the laws in their own lives.”

In my History of Christianity class (which is where I came across this “Letter to Diognetus” in the first place), the teacher remarked that while Rome had many gods, Rome’s real god was Rome.

Rome’s gods were subservient to the Rome’s dreams and Rome’s thirsts, Rome’s lusts and Rome’s rages; and Rome allowed people to keep their gods as long as they swore allegiance to the idea of Rome and the strength of its legions.

During the 2nd and 3rd centuries, Christians were singled out for persecution because they believed it was Christ (and not the empire) who would bring healing and peace to the world.

My question for today is simply this, and I ask it sincerely and with all seriousness:

Do we believe in America more than we believe in Jesus?

Do we believe in America more than we believe in Jesus?

In our pride and our hurt and our “strength” we have declared that we will love those who love us, and hate those that hate us. We blunder across the stage of the world swinging futile arms. We work ourselves into frenzied tangle swinging at that which cannot be fought with human powers. We try to douse fire with kerosene, as if believing it to be water.

Is it in the strength of men that we place our hope?

Can the gun and the sword and bomb bring us salvation?

No, our salvation is found in the cross, and in the way of the cross, and in the Spirit that gives us the strength to walk that path in love, in union with Christ our Savior and our Friend.

Letter to Diognetus

We have about 1,800 years between us, the author of the “Letter to Diognetus” and I. And yet, I can’t dismiss him as unelightened, ignorant, or hopelessly pre-modern. Though translated, his words express a hope and understanding that I believe we should be both inspired and humbled by. His hope in the ability of Christ to work healing and redemption through regular people is large. His understanding of the relationship of Christians to the world, to the societies in which they find themselves, is frankly more mature than that of many American Christians.

I will be writing some responses, and posting them separately.

For now, this is what he has to say:

“For Christians are not differentiated from other people by country, language or customs; you see, they do not live in cities of their own, or speak some strange dialect, or have some peculiar lifestyle…They live in both Greek and foreign cities, wherever chance has put them. They follow local customs in clothing, food, and the other aspects of life. But at the same time, they demonstrate to us the wonderful and certainly unusual form of their own citizenship. They live in their own native lands, but as aliens; as citizens they share all things with others; but like aliens, suffer all things. Every foreign country is to them as their native country, and every native land as a foreign country. They marry and have children just like everyone else; but they do not kill unwanted babies. They offer a shared table, but not a shared bed. They are at present ‘in the flesh’ but they do not live ‘according to the flesh’. They are passing their days on earth, but are citizens of heaven. They obey the appointed laws, and go beyond the laws in their own lives. They love everyone, but are persecuted by all. They are unknown and condemned; they are put to death and gain life. They are poor and yet make many rich. They are short of everything and yet have plenty of all things. They are dishonored and yet gain glory through dishonor. Their names are blackened and yet they are cleared. They are mocked and bless in return. They are treated outrageously and behave respectfully to others. When they do good, they are punished as evildoers; when punished, they rejoice as if being given a new life. They are attacked by Jews as aliens, and are persecuted by the Greeks; yet those who hate them cannot give any reason for their hostility. To put it simply – the soul is to the body as Christians are to the world. The soul is spread through all parts of the body and Christians through all the cities of the world. The soul is in the body but is not of the body; Christians are in the world but not of the world.”

The Splash Down

This week, certainly, has been more than eventful.

Life at university has begun once again, and with it a whole world of happenings and persons.

I came to my senses a couple hours ago, after my last class ended. Hey, the week’s over! I don’t mean that I was literally asleep or intoxicated or anything like that, just that in the midst of the rush of things all you can see or think about is that rush. It’s like being in a water-slide. You’re in the tube, flying along, and you forget about everything else for those seconds. You shoot out the end and splash down into the water. And then there’s that moment, which figuratively I feel like I’m at right now, where you come up to the surface. The ride’s over. Welcome back to the in-between world, where you have time to think about other things, put on sun-screen, and perhaps buy some overpriced food.

So, now that I’m here in this in-between, and can think again, perhaps I will share and reflect on how things are going thus far:

1. Dorm life: I’ve moved into the Shalom Community Center, also refered to variously as the Nursing Home (for humor), Cornerstone (for official purposes), or “Shalom Home” (the best one because it rhymes). I’m about 75 to 80 percent unpacked, which means I’ve unpacked everything I need in order to function. Winter clothes and a substantial amount of books remain stuffed under the bed in all of their glorious disorder. So far the building has been, appropriate to its name, peaceful, a good place to retreat to between classes. We have twelve students living here, and two “graduate assistant ministry interns” to look after us and lead us in our goal of being an intentional community that pursues God’s wholeness and peace. This week we met to decide on dorm policy, followed up by some late-night ice cream and cake in the downstairs kitchen. But it’s this next week that we’ll meet again to really get down to business and discuss our dreams and visions for what our life as a community will be this year.

2. Classes: I’m looking forward to the interplay between History of Christianity, Sociology of the Middle East, Conflict Mediation, and American National Politics. Very distinct classes, but I think they will all have things to say to each other and I have the feeling that the combination will be very thought-provoking.

3. School tradition: I had forgotten how great Traditiation is. But yelling the old Carlson chants, the cacophony and waving flags at Mock Rock, and the over-the-top muddiness of the Carlson water-slide, brought that back (Meanwhile, “Shalom Home” has the funny dynamic of being neutral and a newcomer. Feels a little like being Switzerland).

4. Being a sophmore: The influx of about 500-600 newcomers on campus means a new sea of unfamiliar faces. In such a situation, people that I thought of as just acquaintances last year are nevertheless that much more likely to become friends this year. In general, seeds planted last year have sprouted, paths set out upon have led to exciting new territory. The year seems full of the promise of growth, intellectual, spiritual, practical. I think the greatest danger for me will be taking on too much.

To end with, just a couple of more minor points:

1. At this point (pre-Winter), having a bike is allowing for very fast transport around campus, which is a wonderful thing. And certainly more fun than walking.

2.  Aradnha. These people’s melodies have been stuck in my head all week; right now I’m in that honeymoon, listen-every-day phase of discovering an really good band. Seriously, for the sake of your happiness, check these people out.

Timothy and Mary, part 2

Timothy and Mary live under the bicycle underpass five minutes from my house. A little-used bike path that runs alongside Escondido’s drainage canal suddenly dips down under a somewhat-more-used highway, and there in the shade, with the concrete of the canal yawning to one side, the couple has set up camp.

“It cost the city millions of dollars to build this underpass,” Timothy tells me, then laughs, “We were the first ones in.”

I laugh too. Its a quick moment of shared acknowledgment. There’s some sad irony here.

We have been accidentally generous to the broken people on our streets, have acted out an unintended grace. How sad that it was an accident, that it was not meant.

We, the outwardly clean, respectable world of Escondido, like to forget the broken people are around, hiding the night away somewhere ‘out there’, somewhere beyond the automatic lights and locks that mutely proclaim unwelcome at every door.
When sunlight returns, we would prefer and would insist if we could that they remain in those distantly close shadows and not follow the sun out to wait inconveniently with their cardboard signs at impatient intersections.
Perhaps we fear them like we fear the grit that spoils the delicate smoothness of the well-oiled machine. You see, we respectable people have a cardinal rule that keeps everything running on. It’s the very oil that slicks the mechanisms of our word.
The rule is this: “Like proper Victorian children, all problems must be kept hidden and under control.”

Scandalously, these people cannot hide their problems. They have committed the unforgivable crime of blatantly being needy for grace- because the one thing we cannot bear is to be reminded of the human brokenness that in pride we refuse to admit in ourselves, and that in fear we refuse to confront with trust in a God greater than ourselves.

We are not broken. We do not need.
(Smooth oil of pretending, greasing the death of souls…
Repelling against the sincere transparency of water, its cleansing honesty.)

Nonetheless, in direct violation of the unspoken rules Escondido has unwittingly provided a shelter for these people. Again, accidental generosity, unintended grace.

“It’s cool here all day,” Timothy explains, “Never gets above 80 degrees.”

Of course, the city is repentant for such a slip in judgment, and makes stern-faced atonement in the form of 4 AM evictions and laws banning bikes in the park.

But here I will end this self-implicating rant, such as it is, and attempt once again to start from the beginning, such as it is.

As I explained in part one, it had been my plan all summer to step out from my outwardly clean and respectable world into the shadows, to see what Christ might teach me there. As I also explained, my confidence in my own resolve to do so was more than it should of been.

And so it wasn’t until my last week in Escondido that anything happened.
On that morning, my friend Riley and I woke early, having resolved to make the best breakfast sandwiches we could and then head out into the streets to find people to give them to.
We made our way sluggishly to my kitchen, and with our rudimentary cooking skills set to work, hoping that good flavor would be an emergent property of the various elements we had assembled: a hefty loaf of bread, butter, eggs fried in an oiled skillet, salsa, brussel sprouts (for vitamins).

Half an hour later, sandwiches now made and wrapped, we approach the couple in the underpass with a bit of nervousness. The woman in the sleeping bag struggles to sit up, rubs her eyes. We say hello, apologize for waking her up, introduce ourselves, shake hands. Her name is Mary.

I say, “We’ve made sandwiches. Would you like one?”

This is the awkward moment. Here we are, with our desire to in some way be generous and loving to “those in need.” And, of all things, this desire has become incarnate in the form of an egg sandwich.

Hamdan, Laser Monks, Malaria

Digital driftwood and news I’ve collected as of late:

1. The Hamdan trial has reached a verdict. This is the first of many pending trials of Guantanimo inmates (as well as the first war crimes trial since WW2), and though the sentence was light (5 and a half years, including the 5 years Hamdan has already spent imprisoned), there continues to be debate over the ability of military tribunals to be fair. The judge stated, “I hope the day comes that you return to your wife and daughters and your country, and you’re able to be a provider, a father and a husband in the best sense of all those terms,” but Hamdan nevertheless remains under the status “enemy combatant” and will only be freed in six months if a Pentagon review decides that he is no longer a threat.

2. Laser Monks: Monastery business enters the digital age as a Cisterian abbey markets printer ink and office supplies for cheap prices and donates 100% of profits to charity. “Commerce with compassion.”

3. Good news (finally). Possible breakthrough in the fight against malaria. The malaria virus creates a glue-like substance that causes the cells it infects to stick to the walls of blood vessels. Thus, they do not get filtered through the spleen, where the immune system would usually eliminate them. Researchers have identified eight of the proteins involved in making this glue; removing any of them would cripple the malaria virus.

4. “Key to feeding Africa called better farming”: Article about Africa’s need for improved agricultural technology and techniques. Crazy quote: “According to the United Nations, nearly two-thirds of Africa’s agricultural land has been degraded by erosion and misused pesticides. In Ethiopia, where bad farming practices have led to extensive erosion, 85 percent of the land is damaged.”

On the subject of Africa, I had no idea it was this large:

5. This site will tell you how to watch the Olympics online.

6. And finally, the quest for the perfect chocolate chip cookie.

A roadtrip, a denouncing, and Volf.

I found some thought-provoking things this week…

Firstly, Tony Jones goes on a roadtrip with a trucker:

On the other side, a view into the world of those who aren’t so enchanted with the emerging church:

And finally, Miroslav Volf (Of “Exclusion and Embrace” fame) on the relation between church and culture: http://www.npcts.edu/sem/exauditu/papers/volf.html

To draw these three items together, let me just say that I agree with Volf’s approach to the modern / postmodern debate: he critiques both sides. Instead of reducing postmodern thought to simply “the rejection of universal truth” and safely disposing of the caricature, in his writing he engages with philosophers such as Nietzsche and Lyotard and acknowledges both what they get right and where they fall short. Concerning Lyotard, for instance, he states “I am more persuaded by his critique than by his proposal…”