Soul Keeping

One of the best pieces of advice I ever received was the year before I entered ministry training, when someone asked me what I was reading. I listed a few books with enthusiasm--and pride, I'm sure. He asked if he could offer some advice, and I agreed. "Don't read books," he said. "Read authors."

I can't say I've followed his advice to a T since then, but when I find a good or great book, I seek out other books by that author.

John Ortberg is one such author. I love his writing style and the way he handles biblical texts and teachings. So I was anxious to read his book, Soul Keeping: Caring for the Most Important Part of You. He says that many souls in this day and age are starved and unhealthy, unsatisfied by false promises of status and wealth, and the way to depth and fulfillment is to give attention to the soul, and to care for it well.

I loved that the book was crafted around Ortberg's relationship with another of my favorite authors, the late Dallas Willard. In fact, I found my interest piqued every time Willard entered the scene. Overall, however, I didn't find Soul Keeping as helpful and engrossing as the other Ortberg books I've read. Maybe that's because I read it at the wrong time, or at the wrong pace, or something like that.

But I can recommend it nonetheless, because it's solid teaching and helpful insights on an important subject, with some flashes of brilliance sprinkled throughout. And who doesn't need that?

Nudge

I read virtually everything Leonard Sweet writes (although he is so prolific he seems able to write faster than I can read). Yet I delayed reading Nudge: Awakening Each Other to the God Who's Already There. I wasn't highly motivated to read another book on evangelism.

This wasn't that.

Nudge (like everything Sweet writes) is compelling. It is both strikingly simple and truly revolutionary, as incredible as that may seem. Also like most of what Sweet writes, Nudge expresses much of what I've been feeling and thinking but could never have explained without his help. In my view, he captures perfectly what "evangelism" is, and what it must be, moving it away from the modernist and revivalist traditions (which he and I share as part of our backgrounds) and toward a relational, respectful, and responsive way of helping ourselves and our fellow earth-dwellers to awaken to and interact with, well, the God who's already there among us.

The book is divided into two sections. The first--titled "Shining"--defines "nudging" and "nudgers" as part of a process based on three assumptions: (1) Jesus is alive and active in our world, (2) Followers of Jesus know him well enough to recognize where he is alive and moving, and (3 ) Evangelists nudge others around them to wake up to that activity. "Nudgers," he says, "meet people in their context and nourish their souls in some way." The second section--titled "Sensing"--explores how "nudging" works through each of the five senses, a chapter at a time.

Like all the other Sweet books I've read, I highlighted so many memorable lines that it would be unwieldy to share them all. But here are some of my favorite bits:

The more I discover who God is and who God made me, the happier I become.

I have a friend, Michael Blewett, who is a rector in Bowling Green, Kentucky. He informs his parish that they have three things to spend in life: time, money, and attention. And the greatest of these is attention.

One of the worst mistakes you can make in life is to confuse fallow time with shallow time.

If you want to make God laugh, show him your plans. If you want to make God cry, show him your planet.

The quieter we become, the chattier God gets.

I have no right to argue with you until I can state your case to your satisfaction. I have no right to tell your story until I can state your story to your satisfaction.

Jesus’ image of fishing was not solitary but social.

In the Jesus story of the miraculous catch of precisely 153 fish, the number 153 is the celestial calculus for completion. The ancient world believed there were exactly 153 different species of fish. A catch of 153 fish symbolized the church’s need to reach in its communal netting every culture upon the earth.

Nudgers live and love as Jesus lives and loves: with a blend of fortieth in re, suaviter in modo, or to translate this ancient theological phrase into English, "resolutely in action and gently in manner."

It’s so hard for people to hear ‘God loves you so much’ when the church loves so little. ‘Love All. Serve All’ is the corporate motto of Hard Rock Cafe.

Lancaster Seminary professor Frank Stalfa hammers into the heads of his students this six-word mantra: "Truth without compassion is merely aggression."

It's all so good. So good. So much so, in fact, that I can honestly say it not only reawakened me to the God who's already there, but also to the Gospel and the Great Commission.

From Tablet to Table

I don't think there is any author who resonates more with me than Leonard Sweet. And his latest book, From Tablet to Table: Where Community Is Found and Identity Is Formed, is the latest example.

He makes a biblical, theological, liturgical, and practical case for bringing back the table to our homes, churches, and neighborhoods. In the first section of the book, titled "Table It," Sweet compellingly shows the importance of the table in Jesus' ministry and in the history of the church, and contrasts it with our contemporary fast-food, microwaved, shallow, and distracted lives. The book's second section, "Life's Three Tables," focuses on the table's function in the home, the church, and the world. It read so well and so quickly that I was surprised and disappointed when it came to an end.

Some of the high points of the book--and there were far too many to mention them all:

Modern Christianity has become more “modern” than Christian, having sold out to a fast-paced, word-based, verse-backed, principles-driven template for truth, a handy little tablet of rules and regulations.

The Pharisees lived by laws, rules, and exclusions. Jesus showed us how to live by love, grace, and inclusion.

There is a reason Jesus made eating a sacrament.

The first word God speaks to human beings in the Bible—God’s very first commandment—is “Eat freely” (Genesis 2:16, NASB). The last words out of God’s mouth in the Bible—his final command? “Drink freely” (see Revelation 22:17).

When we all speak the same language, fewer words are necessary. When we don’t speak the same language, more words are required. One of the reasons for the “wordiness” of the church at this point in its history is that we no longer speak the vernacular of the culture.

As a Jew is bar mitzvahed or bat mitzvahed, so a Christian might be thought of as bar or bat messiahed.

We are to manifest Christ, not just mimic him. We are to be not imitators but incarnators of Christ.

Adam means “human.” Eve means “life.” A human needs another for “life” to come alive and become living. Identity can’t grow ferally, only communally. We were meant to eat together, not solo. Eve’s solitary eating is what got her in trouble.

most theologians ask too much of the table in terms of theology and too little of the table in terms of community.

We don’t love our neighbors merely by not bothering them or by doing nothing bad to them. We love our neighbors when we reach out to them, when we listen to them, when we “give them something to eat” (Matthew 14:16). We love our neighbors when we share a table with them, when we bless and break bread together. Jesus likened the kingdom of heaven to going to a party where you don’t have to prepare the food or clean up afterward. If that’s how Jesus pictured the kingdom of heaven, shouldn’t that be the image we show to the world? The firstfruits of the future, the earnest of eternity, the foretaste of what heaven is going to be like, is found where? For Jesus, at the table.

As with all of Leonard Sweet's books, I can't recommend this highly enough. It is a book to be savored and digested.

Why I am an Atheist Who Believes in God

I was interested to read Frank Schaeffer's latest book, Why I am an Atheist Who Believes in GOD: How to Give Love, Create Beauty and Find Peace. Partly because he is the son of Francis and Edith Schaeffer. Partly because his spiritual journey has been tortuous and tumultuous, to say the least. And also partly because I thought he might challenge my thinking and living and maybe even give me a new perspective or two.

I was wrong.

I was strangely touched, early on in the book, by his portrayal of himself as a man who often doesn't believe in God but can't stop praying...or praying with his grandchildren. I loved his statement, "Embracing paradox helped me discover that religion is a neurological disorder for which faith is the only cure." And I found it compelling when he said, "To the extent I choose to go, church is one of the places I may offer my grandchildren a vision of life that is about more than status, stuff, education and money."

But I couldn't even finish the book. I got halfway through and, while I found parts of his story to be interesting, even captivating, I started to feel yucky (look it up, it's a theological term). His frustratingly a priori pronouncements seemed to be laced with so much bitterness and acerbity that I just couldn't keep going (he even looks mean and grumpy on the book cover!).

Maybe I should have stuck with it in the hopes of getting to the "Give love, create beauty, and find peace" part. But life is too short, and it would have taken too long...if it ever did get to that).

Searching for Sunday

Let's get this out of the way first: I'm a fan of Rachel Held Evans. I wish everyone would read her with an open mind, especially her book, A Year of Biblical Womanhood (which I reviewed here). Unlike some, I don't read her blog or her books because I see her as a nuisance or a threat, but because she is unfailingly honest, vulnerable, entertaining, thoughtful, and insightful. So I expected her latest book, Searching for Sunday (subtitled "Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church"), to be the same.

It is.

It is a thoroughly honest, searchingly vulnerable, wholly entertaining, thoughtful, and insightful book. It tells the story of Rachel's solid fundamentalist/evangelical upbringing, her subsequent questioning of, disillusionment with, and departure from the church as she had always known it. Much of her story and struggle will ring true for many, especially with her generation (but not exclusively, as it often tracks with my experience, and I'm pretty ancient compared to her).

But don't think this is a diatribe against evangelicals, much less the church as a whole. It is far from it. Organized around the seven sacraments recognized and practiced among Catholics, Episcopalians, and in Orthodox traditions, Searching for Sunday is a hopeful book. It is shot through with love for Jesus and his Body. It is this:

Not every young adult gets married or has children, so we need to stop building our churches around categories and start building them around people. 

It is this:

Even when I don't believe in church, I believe in resurrection. I believe in the hope of Sunday morning. 

And this:

The good news is you are a beloved child of God; the bad news is, you don't get to choose your siblings. 

And these:

Sometimes I think what the church needs most is to recover some of its weird.  

Sometimes the church must be a refuge even to its own refugees.  

[After relating the story of the woman caught in adultery] Perhaps it would be easier for us to love if it were our sins we saw written in that dust and carried off by the wind. 

I often wonder if the role of the clergy in this age is not to dispense information or guard the prestige of their authority, but rather to go first, to volunteer the truth about their sins, their dreams, their failures, and their fears in order to free others to do the same.  

Our various traditions seem a sweet and necessary grace.  

As my friend Ed puts it: "When you join a church you're just picking which hot mess is your favorite."  

The truth is, the church doesn't offer a cure. It doesn't offer a quick fix. The church offers death and resurrection. The church offers the messy, inconvenient, gut-wrenching, never-ending work of healing and reconciliation. The church offers grace. 

Like almost everything Rachel Held Evans writes, Searching for Sunday will prompt tears and laughter, anger and "amens," nods and groans. It may not change many minds, but I hope and pray it will open hearts.

The Blue Parakeet

I'm sorry I didn't read Scot McKnight's book, The Blue Parakeet (Rethinking How You Read the Bible), when it was first published, in 2008. Then again, I don't know if it would have resonated so much with me back then. But it sure does now.

The blue parakeet of his title (which he explains in the book's second chapter) refers to those passages in the Bible that Bible-readers and Christ-followers today manage to either ignore or rationalize while claiming to "believe" or "follow" what the Bible says. "What happens to you when you encounter blue parakeet passages in the Bible," he writes, "will reveal all you need to know about how you read the Bible." He masterfully illustrates how, despite many claims to the contrary, everyone picks and chooses from what the Bible says, but few people know they're doing it, fewer know why or how they're doing it, and even fewer can sensibly articulate their thinking and their choices. However, he doesn't recommend that we stop doing so. Instead, he suggests that we learn to read and apply the Bible relationally and missionally. What does he mean by that? Read the book.

That is my summary of the first half of The Blue Parakeet. In the second half of the book, he presents a lengthy case study--one that is very near and dear to my heart--of rethinking how we read and apply the Bible via a thorough examination of how and why the church approaches and discusses and decides the issue of women in ministry and leadership in the church. He shows how leaders, pastors, theologians, and teachers have harmed the church with their teachings on this subject. He shows how most teaching and preaching on the subject in the last two thousand years ignores an important question, similar to the "What Would Jesus Do" meme; that is, "WDWD: What Did Women Do" in Bible times. He asks, "Do you permit women to do in your churches what women did in the Bible and in the early churches?" He then goes on to thoroughly and systematically tackle all the relevant Bible passages in light of that question (he could have--and maybe should have--made that whole section into another book entirely). McKnight, who is Karl A. Olsson Professor in Religious Studies at North Park University in Chicago, manages to discuss that thorny subject in a measured, rational, reasonable, and fair way.

The Blue Parakeet (Rethinking How You Read the Bible) deserves a wide readership. I wish it were required reading for every church leader and preacher and teacher. It would make a huge difference and might just ignite a revival of Christian thinking and living.

Preaching: The Art of Narrative Exposition

"Preaching is an art in which a studied, professional sinner tells the less studied sinners how they ought to believe, behave, and serve."

So says Calvin Miller in his book, Preaching: The Art of Narrative Exposition. That statement is a fine example, all by itself, of why I love Calvin Miller and his writing, and why I fully expected to love this book.

In my view, he is among the most creative and insightful preachers of the last fifty years. He "gets it." For example, he says, early in the book, "Preaching remains too captive to 1950 to transform the third millennium." Oh, amen, brother. He says, "Could it be that during the past five decades the world was learning to listen in a new way, while preachers continued talking in the old way?" Preach! He makes the case early on (in "Part I: Analysis: The Exegesis of All Things") for old-but-new ways of preaching--which the book's subtitle refers to as "narrative exposition." He suggests that preachers today must exegete more than the text; they must exegete the preacher, the audience, and more.

In the second and the third sections, he covers "Writing the Sermon" and "Preaching the Sermon," which are excellent. Unfortunately, much of these sections could have been written by many preachers and teachers-of-preaching. I was hoping for more Calvin-Miller-style creativity and insight into preaching that is not captive to 1950.

In an appendix, he gives a fascinating thrill ride through the preaching approaches of today's masters of the craft--people like Haddon W. Robinson, Bryan Chapell, Barbara Brown Taylor, and others.

I hope and pray that everyone who hopes to preach effectively in this third millennium will read, study, and heed Preaching: The Art of Narrative Exposition.

After You Believe

Regular readers of this blog will know that I am an unabashed fan of the theologian N. T. Wright. He is one of a handful of people I would pay good money (and even travel more than ten minutes from home) to hear speak. So one of the books on my 2014 reading plan (see here for more about my annual reading plans) was his After You Believe: Why Christian Character Matters.

After You Believe is the third in a trilogy from Bishop Wright (he is a retired Anglican bishop), following Simply Christian and Surprised by Hope, which are among the best books I've read in recent years.

In After You Believe, Wright tackles the topic of Christian character and virtue. Using the wonderfully apt illustration of Captain "Sully" Sullenberger's heroism in saving lives on the ill-fated Flight 1549, he makes the case that "virtue is what happens when wise and courageous choices have become 'second nature.'...Like an acquired taste, such choices and actions, which started off being practiced with difficulty, ended up being, yes, 'second nature'" (p. 21). With his usual thoroughness and eloquence, he leaves the reader no choice but to agree and to desire such character and virtue. He makes it clear that "virtue" doesn't "just happen," nor is it achieved by following someone's example--even that of Jesus. Instead, he depicts what he calls "The Virtuous Circle" (see photo), comprised of regular and intertwining

influences of scripture, stories, examples, community, and practices--the "habits of mind and heart which develop those corporate virtues of which we have spoken" (p. 278), such as shared worship (prayer, scripture, sacrament, and giving). When this "virtuous circle" is habitual (not occasional), cyclical (not sequential), and sincere (not rote), our characters will be transformed and virtue will result.

It's impossible to do justice to what Commonweal calls "Wright’s close reading of Scripture, his clear prose, and his evident love for his Christian faith" in a short review, but After You Believe is a helpful and compelling book by one of the world's leading biblical scholars.

More Or Less

One of the things God has been doing in me lately is calling me to a life of greater generosity. More than that. He's been urging me toward more awareness of and sensitivity to the needs of those around me. More than that. He's been prodding me to reflect in my lifestyle what my Jewish friends call "tikkun olam," a Hebrew phrase that means "healing the world." So, when I happened upon Jeff Shinabarger's book, More or Less: Choosing a Lifestyle of Excessive Generosity, I knew I had to read it.

In fourteen very readable chapters, Shinabarger makes the case that, "if you are reading this book, you are rich," and can find tremendous blessing in facing that fact and coming to the conclusion that you have enough. Maybe he lays on a guilt trip, a little, but since I read his book on an iPad, it's nothing I don't deserve. But he does more than show that I have enough possessions, food, clothing, presents, transportation, time, access, and more. He also gives many practical suggestions for how to turn my excess possessions into generosity and blessing and wealth of a different kind.

It was not only his (and his wife's) generosity that interested and excited me, but also their ingenuity. He is an entrepreneur, and so when he and his wife realized that most people have gift cards just sitting around unused, they established GiftCardGiver.com. And that's just one example of the brilliant and energizing ideas that enliven this book. And the book is supported by one of the best book-related websites--with videos, discussion guides, and more--I've ever seen.

If you're interested in living better, read this book. If you're tired of consumerism, read this book. If you're not convinced that you have enough already, read this book. If you're spending more and more but enjoying life less and less, read this book. If you don't think you can afford to buy this book, read it anyway. As Shinabarger says, "Only you can contribute what only you can give to the world."

The Bible Tells Me So

Peter Enns's book, The Bible Tells Me So (Why Defending Scripture Has Made Us Unable to Read It), is delightful, insightful, entertaining, and ultimately--for me--disappointing.

I agree with his premise. I do think the fundamentalist and evangelical approach to the Bible as a "divine rule book" and "instruction book for life" does harm to the book and its readers, as well as our frequent failure to read and study it for what it is and what it says rather than for what we want it to be and say. I agree that we err by "not asking ancient questions, but modern ones" when we read and study the Bible.

I also agree with so much of what Enns--an evangelical scholar and Abram S. Clemens Professor of Biblical Studies at Eastern University--writes. For example:

I believe God wants us to take the Bible seriously; but I don’t believe he wants us to suppress our questions about it (p. 8).

This kind of Bible—the Bible we have—just doesn’t work well as a point-by-point exhaustive and timelessly binding list of instructions about God and the life of faith. But it does work as a model for our own spiritual journey. An inspired model, in fact (23-24).

Starting with the wrong assumptions actually devalues the Bible that we have by wanting something else (89).

Getting the Bible right and getting Jesus right are not the same thing (164).

Great stuff. As is his explanation of how (and possibly why) the Bible offers multiple and conflicting accounts of the same events. As is his elucidation of how Jesus quoted and alluded to the ancient Scriptures while also applying them in new and clearly revolutionary ways. As is his similarly insightful depiction of Paul's creativity with the Hebrew Scriptures (though speculative as to Paul's motives or thought processes to a degree I don't think he acknowledges).

But I couldn't shake the sense that he treats the textual record as authoritative when setting up problems ("what kind of God regrets what he's done?" 158) but malleable in order to solve problems ("[the Bible] doesn't lay down at every point what all the faithful for all time should believe about God. It shows us how Israelites understood God on their journey with God, in their time and place" 153), and seldom (if ever) mentions other plausible explanations for some of the challenges he works to solve (though, to be fair, to do much of this would surely have made the book less entertaining and accessible). He makes the Gospel writers sound like PR flacks who made up stuff to exalt Jesus. And though he affirms the Bible as the Word of God, I don't think he ever really explains what he means by that.

Having said all that, I'm very glad to have read it. And I'm still thinking it over and over in the days since I finished it, which is one of my preferred metrics of a good book. So it may well be that my disappointment is the result of having expected the wrong things of The Bible Tells Me So. Which, I will agree with Enns, is the kind of attitude I too often bring to the Bible. Point. Just maybe not "set" and "match."

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Last Child in the Woods

I debated reviewing this book on the Desperate Pastor blog, because it's not a book on leadership, pastoring, ministry, etc. But I could not shake the belief that it is an important book for the Church and for church leaders.

I'm talking about Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children From Nature-Deficit Disorder by Richard Louv. The author's premise is that today's children face a "nature deficit," one that negatively affects imagination and creativity and leads to numerous dysfunctions and disadvantages for them and for the society they will live in as adults.

The book hit home with me. Though I grew up in the Cincinnati suburbs, I spent more waking hours in the woods than in my house, it seems. I fell in love with Creation. It shaped me in many ways, as it did most kids of my generation. These days, however, only the most aware, conscientious, and involved parents can tear their children away from TV, computers, video games, smartphones, and other indoor and relatively sedentary pursuits to go outdoors and explore creeks, climb trees, turn over rocks, and get dirty.

Louv explores the current and coming outcomes of this "nature deficit." He warns of effects on education and national parks, science and society--all of which concerns me. But I couldn't help but consider the impact of this deficit on the church, as well as the possible role the church has played in the problem and can play in the solutions.

Sure, much of our children's church experience and Christian education takes place (and maybe always has) indoors. But what will happen in a generation or two if church leaders have a shriveled sense of the splendor, beauty, intricacy, and majesty of Creation? What effect will a "nature deficit" have on how future Christians and church leaders read and understand and teach the Bible? Will our theology suffer? And what role should the church be playing in addressing this societal shift? Are there ways for the church to champion Creation in constructive ways? Should more churches--even in urban settings--be helpful in getting kids outside, taking them camping, teaching them to garden, taking them hiking, giving them never-to-be-forgotten experiences in nature? Is this one of the ways for the church to connect our spiritual mission with a cultural need?

I think these are important and urgent questions. I recommend Last Child in the Woods, and hope it will spark something for you.

A Month of Thanksgiving

It happens at least once a year: Someone says, "We should be thankful every day, not just on Thanksgiving."

Here's the next best thing: A month of Thanksgiving.

My friend Ray Hollenbach has created a thirty-day devotional, available in hard copy and ebook, that will help you cultivate a habit of thanksgiving (if I were a preacher, I might say, "an attitude of gratitude") and celebrate a full month of thanksgiving rather than a single day, once a year. Designed to be started on November 1 and last through the month, each reading presents a short, thought-provoking meditation followed by a question for self examination, a practical idea for cultivating a life of thanks, and a quotation from one of many spiritual guides through the ages.

For example, the November 5th reading includes this gem:

Your Heavenly Father is not the author of evil in your life, but he is the editor. What men mean for ill, God can use to build goodness into us. A thankful spirit flows not from the fatalistic acceptance of every event but from the conviction that God is with us.

A Month of Thanksgiving is a perfect way to deepen and broaden your Thanksgiving celebration--and an ideal prelude to the approaching season of Advent and Christmas.

I love this idea. I wish I had thought of it first.

The Sacred Year

Michael Yankoski's book (brace yourself, the subtitle just goes on and on), The Sacred Year: Mapping the Soulscape of Spiritual Practice How Contemplating Apples, Living in a Cave and Befriending a Dying Woman Revived My Life sounded like my kind of book when I first heard about it. So I got it and read it.

It was not the book I expected. But I wasn't disappointed at all.

The book tells the story of how Yankoski, a motivational Christian speaker, became disillusioned with his shtick--and with his life. So he goes on a retreat to a monastery, where he sits down with a Father Solomon (Yankoski's description of the tone and technique of the priest/spiritual director is dead-on). Father Solomon tells him, "A carnival is a wonderful place to go every now and then, but a terrible place to live."

I was hooked.

Guided by Father Solomon, Yankoski undertakes a "sacred year," in which he systematically pursues a series of spiritual practices, one at a time. He distinguishes these practices and places them in sections in the book as "Depth with Self," "Depth with God," and "Depth with Others." For example, he plumbs new depths in himself by pursuing the practice of attentiveness, simplicity, and creativity (among others). In pursuing depth with God, he explores the practice of confession, solitude, and wilderness (among others). And pursuing depth with others took him to new experiences in gratitude, protest, and community (among others).

I appreciated his style and self-effacing humor. I loved his choice of practices--the unexpected (like mortality) among the unsurprising (like Sabbath). And I thoroughly enjoyed the means he used, such as gardening (simplicity) or digging a grave (mortality). And I tried hard not to drool with envy at his descriptions of visits on Iona and St. Paul's Cathedral, among others.

More importantly, I found myself longing for more depth in my life, too. Depth with "self," with God, and with others, perhaps with my own version of a "sacred year." I'm checking air fares to Scotland right now.

Before Amen

Max Lucado never disappoints, and neither does his latest book--Before Amen: The Power of a Simple Prayer. In his inimitable style and with his signature sensitivity, Lucado distills the prayers of the Bible into six short lines:

Father,
you are good.
I need help. Heal me and forgive me.
They need help.
Thank you.
In Jesus' name, amen.

He writes of prayer in such an inviting way that any reader will be likely not only to keep reading but also to begin praying. And that's the point, of course.

Lucado's take on Scripture has always resonated with me, and this book is no exception. His recreation of the wedding at Cana is delightful. His illustration of the scapegoat is impactful. His retelling of the parable of the friend at midnight is fun. And I enjoyed his handling of the familiar (and often misused) Revelation 3:20 ("I stand at the door and knock"):

Jesus waits on the porch. He stands on the threshold. He taps...and calls. He waits for you to open the door. To pray is to open it.

Even better, pre-ordering the book (see the button below) could net you not only a free copy of Lucado's book, Second Chances, but also a chance to win an iPad mini. But notice that you have to pre-order by September 29. Which I suggest you do. And then give the iPad mini you win to me. After all, I'm the one who told you about it.

Falling Upward

Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life is the first Richard Rohr book I've read--though I had (of course) heard of him and his books for some time (he's written roughly a whole bunch). I'm encouraged to read more.

His way of writing and expressing himself was new, and a bit off-putting at times. He leans heavily on Jung and Homer, employing The Odyssey as a framework for understanding the two halves of life. He turns to the teaching of Jesus, frequently looking at Jesus' words in new ways and applying them (and in at least one case, in my view, misapplying them) to his thesis.

While I think he paints with too broad a brush, his message is well taken. He says that many people, regardless of age, never truly enter--let alone successfully navigate--the second half of life, and I think he's right. He suggests different priorities and strategies in life's second half, which ring true in my experience. And he points out that most human institutions (including the church) tend to focus on "first half" issues rather than "second half" priorities. Again, I think he's right.

As someone who is well into the second half of life (a thought that came as a surprise to me), I think (or at least I hope) that he's close to the mark when he writes:

In your second half of life, you can actually bless others in what they feel they must be doing, allow them to do what they must do, challenge them if they are hurting themselves and others–but you can no longer join them in the first half of life. You can belong to such institutions for all the good they do, but you no longer put all your eggs in that basket. This will keep you and others from unnecessary frustration and anger, and from knocking on doors that cannot be opened from the other side (pp. 141-142).

Falling Upward is worth reading, regardless of your age or assumed level of maturity (spiritual or otherwise). It will make you think. It may perplex you in places. And it might even focus you, your life, your walk with God, and your ministry.

Astonished

Full disclosure: Mike Erre, the author of Astonished: Recapturing the Wonder, Awe, and Mystery of Life with God, is a friend of mine. I knew and loved him before he was a big shot, big church, pastor-type guy. And I'm kinda miffed that he writes such good books now--five of them, in fact. That used to be my thing.

But Mike's Astonished is his best yet. In it, he says that "Christianity has become a substitute for real, vital, biblical faith." He says, "The American church has bought wholesale into the cultural assumptions of glory, power, and strength. One of the reasons our churches and ministries are so ineffective is because we don't make room for God's power, since we are so enamored with our own."

In three sections, entitled "The Nature of God," "The Nature of Faith," and "The Faith-filled Life," Erre eschews platitudes and formulas in favor of mystery, desperation, surrender, and surprise. He says, "We must be prepared to be surprised....In the Gospels, Jesus was often found where you'd least expect the Messiah to be. The same thing is true today." He intentionally avoids offering how-tos, but focuses instead on correcting and adjusting readers' vision and expectations, calling us to an honest and rugged faith in a mysterious and unpredictable God.

Praying With the Church

I really track with Scot McKnight, author of Praying With the Church: Following Jesus Daily, Hourly, Today. Some parts of his spiritual journey parallel parts of mine. His tone as a writer and priorities as a Christ-follower resonate with me. So of course I found his book touting the wisdom and blessings of fixed-hour prayer an excellent and beautiful conversation.

Like McKnight, I have come from a spiritual background that generally considered spontaneous, freeform praying more spiritual and efficacious than the set liturgies and written prayers of "prayer book" traditions. But also like McKnight, I have since discovered great depth and breadth and height of blessing in praying--as he puts it--not only "in" the church but also "with" the church, by means of fixed hour prayer and such resources as The Book of Common Prayer and the multi-volume The Divine Hours.

After an introductory chapter that presents a great word-picture involving the Portiuncola of St. Francis inside the Basilica of St. Francis in Assisi (which is then sustained throughout the rest of the book), the first section of Praying With the Church profiles the prayer life of Jesus, and makes the case for praying with him in "sacred time," "sacred terms," "sacred rhythms," "sacred prayers," and "sacred tradition."

The second section of the book offers an overview of the major prayer books of the Roman Catholic, Orthodox, and Anglican traditions, along with the more ecumenical (and my go-to prayer aid) The Divine Hours, by Phyllis Tickle. He gives an overview, sampling the structure and prayers of each, and very helpfully lays out the best--and less-than-best--parts of each one. I must admit to being surprised that my familiarity with all but one of these resources didn't lessen my interest in and enjoyment of these chapters. They were as delightful as if I were encountering the information for the first time.

A concluding chapter lays out McKnight's nine suggestions--which he phrases as things we need to do--for ways anyone, no matter how busy or changeful their schedule, can pray with the church.

I loved this book, as I have already come to love the rhythms and benefits of daily fixed-hour prayer with the church. I have experienced what the author says on page 2: "Nearly everyone who practices a sacred rhythm of praying finds it life-shaping." I think everyone should read Praying With the Church: Following Jesus Daily, Hourly, Today and learn from it. I admit I am biased but (to borrow McKnight's own confession) I am also accurate.

Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road?

Brian McLaren has long been among my favorite authors, not because I always agree with him (I don't), but because he always makes me think, always enlarges my understanding, and always does so from a perspective that shows his love for Jesus and regard for the Bible as God's Word.

He mostly does it again in his book, Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road?: Christian Identity in a Multi-Faith World. In it, McLaren asks the question, "To accept and love God, must I betray my neighbor of another religion? To accept and love my neighbor, must I betray the God of my religion?"

The book is his answer to the question, his quest for a strong and benevolent Christian identity, rather than having to choose between a weak-but-benign sort of Christian life and testimony or a strong-but-hostile experience. He describes his quest in four sections:

The Crisis of Christian Identity. He says, "We Christians will not experience a reorientation of our identity until we are willing to go through a profound rethinking of our history." He suggests that "what we call Christianity today has a history, and this history reveals it as a Roman, imperial version of Christianity"--one that mixes Christ-like elements of love, joy, peace, and reconciliation with "strictly imperial elements" of superiority, conquest, domination, and hostility.

The Doctrinal Challenge. McLaren then goes on to explore how doctrines relating to Creation, original sin, election, the Trinity, Christology, and the Holy Spirit can be understood in new ways--ways that foster a strong/benevolent Christian identity.

The Liturgical Challenge. He next tackles the Christian calendar, baptism, worship and teaching, reading and study, and communion, suggesting new approaches to these practices that conform better (in his view) to the teachings of Jesus. He says, "There is no way forward in the pursuit of a strong-benevolent Christian identity that bypasses a lengthy journey through the wild and challenging landscape of hermeneutics."

The Missional Challenge. In the final section, McLaren addresses the question of how a Christian with a strong-and-benevolent identity might see his or her mission in a pluralistic world. He prescribes "subversive friendship," "friendship that crosses the boundaries of otherness and dares to offer and receive hospitality." He suggests that "explicitly Christian worship can be explicitly hospitable to Jews, Muslims, and others." And he says that "my identity as a follower of Christ requires me first to move toward the other in friendship and then to move with the other in service to those in need."

I liked most of what he said, and loved the spirit in which he said it. I was disappointed in the middle two sections of the book by the impression that the author was not always letting the Bible say what it says, but was sometimes trying to get it to say what it should say (in his view). I think he could have made the same case (and maybe even a stronger one) with a better hermeneutical approach.

Still, like all of McLaren's books, this one delighted me, made me think, take notes, and reconsider a good many things. It opened new doors to understanding and I think has already produced good fruit in me.

Barth on Prayer

Karl Barth (the guy who famously answered a questioner's plea to summarize his theology by reciting, "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so") is considered by many to have been the greatest Protestant theologian of the twentieth century.

So when I picked up Barth's Prayer, a series of lectures he gave on the Lord's Prayer from 1947-1949, in which he drew from the wisdom of Luther, Calvin, and the Heidelberg Catechism on the subject, I was pretty sure it would all be way over my head.

I am not often so happy to be wrong.

This short book is long on insight and filled with a pastor's sensitivity (Barth served as a pastor from 1911-1921 in Switzerland). Having read numerous books on the Lord's Prayer, and of course written and preached on it and from it, I nonetheless found new insights, perspectives, and inspiration from Barth's words. And I loved that he moved effortlessly in and out of prayer as he wrote on prayer.

Barth's short chapters are followed by a selection of his pastoral prayers. Barth's content is also introduced and followed by the writings of four other scholars who add much to the reader's understanding and appreciation.

As he did in his famous "Jesus Loves Me" comment, Barth packs an amazing amount of memorable depth and beauty in a short space in the book, Prayer.

Transforming Church: Bringing Out the Good to Get to Great

Every pastor I know wants to make a difference. Every church leader I know wants his or her church to thrive. Every church I know wants to bring the kingdom of God to their community, region, and beyond.

So with all this godly desire, why isn't that happening for such good, conscientious people? I think Kevin Ford's book, Transforming Church: Bringing Out the Good to Get to Great, compellingly answers that question, and gives hope and direction for "getting to great."

Over and over as I read Transforming Church, I found myself nodding at depictions and dilemmas that are all too familiar from my thirty-plus years of ministry to four growing churches. Ford, who writes from the perspective of an experienced consultant to churches, says, "This book is about churches that have the courage to embrace change and to confront adaptive issues head on--what I call transforming churches." He identifies five common, crippling dysfunctions of unhealthy churches (which correspond, not coincidentally at all, to dysfunctions in Western culture) and contrasts them with their healthy opposites:

• How church members relate to one another (consumerism vs. community)
• The church's "genetic code," often unwritten and even unacknowledged (incongruence vs. code)
• The church's leadership culture (autocracy vs. shared leadership)
• How the church relates to the surrounding community (cloister vs. missional)
• How church members see the future (inertia vs. reinvention)

With numerous examples from one church after another, Transforming Church shows how these unhealthy/healthy characteristics operate in real life, and even offers readers a free diagnostic tool (www.transformingchurch.net/tcinsight) to measure their churches against the principles mentioned in the book.

The book's tone can be a little "consultanty" (a word I just made up), but it is so full of stories-that-ring-true and information-that-makes-sense, it should be devoured by every church leader and applied to every church. It would have made a huge difference in every church I have served, and I sincerely pray that it will find universal acceptance among the churches, leaders, and pastors I know.