Took a quick break from the underworld to twitter my despair and found Michael Hyatt’s tweet. Hyatt is the CEO of Thomas Nelson, and he was bemoaning an author’s woes over a new book they’re publishing on the faith of Obama. (That sounds a little sarcastic, but I don’t mean it to be.)
On his blog, Stephen Mansfield writes about the internet mugging that left him feeling victimized,
Everyone is drawing conclusions from a single article on a single political blog. Yet my secretary has been fielding dozens of emails assuring that I am going to roast for all eternity. I’m deceived, serving Satan, in the employ of Obama, in the employ of McCain, in the employ of Oprah, and I’m apparently not going to be alive on Election Day.
I’ve also had conservative politicians calling in anger and liberal politicians calling in welcome.
So, I’m going to hell. Or, more likely, this is hell and I don’t know it yet. Whatever the case, my point here isn’t that I’m getting smacked. That goes with the job. My point is one that draws attention to a tragic potential of our times: the power to project a lie in the guise of truth at lightning speed.
Mansfield doesn’t link to the Politico.com article for obvious reasons, but here’s the link. Just don’t send Stephen hate mail about the time he’s going to spend in hell burning for writing about Obama.
All of this reminds me of two questions I asked Tony Jones on the phone yesterday. Instead of asking him about the Church Basement Roadshow or another explanation of what he means by emergent, I asked about politics. Why not? I’m bored with the language of who’s emerging and who’s not and whether we should be emergent now or emergent no or whatever. Besides, if Tony’s answers about politics stank, I could always chop them on the editing board.
So I asked.
Tony, what does it look like when politicians worship God through their work?
He answered, and it was a decent answer. Then I asked my real question.
Tony, what does it look like when voters worship God through their engagement of politics?
I haven’t transcribed that answer yet, but it was good, too. By good, I mean thought provoking and insightful.
Here’s the gist: Too much of our political rhetoric comes from our ideologies rather than our theology. It is easier to cling to planks of a party platform than to pray to the creator of the universe for insight into his nature that will bring us wisdom for all of life–whether we are in the voting booth at our local precinct or the dunking book at our local carnival.
OK, I admit that’s a lot of me interpreting what I hope I heard Tony Jones say yesterday.
Let me be even more blunt because this really bothers me. Politics really bother me. The polarization of American politics in particular really bothers me. Why can’t we be passionate about our duty to vote without sending each other to hell? Why can’t I tell you who I like without worrying that I’ll just be encouraging you to prejudge me as a leftist hippie or a warhawk or a socialist or an imperialist?
How would we as voters have a conversation about abortion without condemning the opposing view point as immoral?
How would we as voters have a conversation about war, and not just war but this war in Iraq, without propping up our own shallow opinions with the weight of morality?
How would we talk about economics? education? leadership? integrity? electoral college rules? campaign finance? gay marriage? regular marriage? gerbil marriage?
Are all of these topics too hot to handle? Is the only wisdom to stay out of the places where angels fear to tread?
I want to believe that all work is a high calling. Is there no high calling for voters or politicians? I want to believe that there is.
Note to readers: I’m still buried, but my Editor-in-Chief, Dan Roloff, asked me to post my notes from the staff devotional I led yesterday. So here they are. If you haven’t been to Dan’s blog in awhile, it’s worth a look. His posts have a lot of substance, but are still bite-sized in length. Unlike this one…
I’ve been thinking about our categories on TheHighCalling.org a bit lately. Starting with the first one from the left: Attitude. We even have a vision statement for helping people understand the importance of attitude:
Oswald Chambers says, “Moods don’t go by praying; moods go by kicking them.†Our words and actions come out of our attitudes. We shouldn’t let circumstances shape our perspective. Instead, we can use a good perspective to shape our circumstances.
That sounds nice, doesn’t it? So I was wondering. Is it biblical? Are we relying on some trendy truth to assemble that vision or does it flow from the eternal truth of the Bible?
The concept of attitude is hard to find in the Bible. It seems to be more of a 20th and 21st century concept, but two words stuck out as I was browsing through my Bible programs.
phroneÅ - from verses like Romans 12:1-3. (You can see where that word appears in the Greek by going to the Blue Letter Bible and scrolling down to the Strong’s Concordance for phroneÅ)
Dan is interested in phroneÅ, but that verse in Hebrews got into my head.
You see, the writer of Hebrews tells us how to keep our attitudes in check. He writes, “For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart†(4:12).
Without looking at the context, this sounds like a simple call to study the Bible. “The word of God… judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.†But look at all of chapter four when you get a chance. It is a chapter about people who don’t obey God’s call to enter into his rest.
Earlier in the passage, the writer discusses Joshua, concluding that he was not able to lead God’s people into rest. Barnes’ Notes explain that “Joshua ‘did’ give them a rest in the Promised Land; but it was not all which was intended, and it did not exclude the promise of another and more important rest.â€
Growing up, I learned a lie about rest that I’m still trying to unlearn. I was taught that the Promised Land was an archetype for heaven. “To Canaan’s land I’m on my way, where the soul of man never dies.†I’m not going to quibble about the theology of these songs, but to my young brain they meant that God’s rest was something that came after I died. Salvation was a ticket to heaven.
In fact, I thought of heaven like a big ski resort because I loved to ski. When I got saved, baptized, prayed the prayer, got Jesus, whatever language or ritual you prefer to label it with, I knew I had a ticket to the resort. I got my lift pass. But I’d have to spend the rest of my life waiting for the resort to open.
Even worse, I didn’t grow up with any sense of eternal security. I was taught that my lift pass could be taken away if I wasn’t good. That’s a scary burden for a teenager, let me tell you. Thankfully, I didn’t think about it too much.
What I did was work much too hard. I figured if I just worked hard enough, I’d prove to God that I deserved to keep my lift ticket. My faith would be real through my works—just like James says.
I’ve heard that Martin Luther wanted to rip James out of the Bible. And to be honest, I understand why when I look at chapter two. Faith without works is dead. That can be twisted into some seriously scary stuff.
You know, James 2 goes right along with Hebrews 4 in some ways. The author of Hebrews says,
If Joshua had given them rest, God would not have spoken later about another day. There remains, then, a Sabbath—rest for the people of God; for anyone who enters God’s rest also rests from his own work, just as God did from his. Let us, therefore, make every effort to enter that rest, so that no one will fall by following their example of disobedience.
As a kid, I took that line about making every effort to enter God’s rest a little too literally. I still do.
Let me be honest. I’m not good at resting. In my heart, despite myself, I still believe that the Promised Land comes when I die, that Salvation is a golden mystical crown in a city full of Revelation weirdness. In fact, I look for passages about adjusting my attitude, and find a work ethic prescription right there in Hebrews:
“For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart†(4:12).
So I think to myself, the Bible itself helps me judge the thoughts and attitudes of my heart. Great! All I have to do is get up earlier. Study more. Work harder. And I’ll find that attitude of rest.
But I’m pretty sure that’s not what this verse means. Sure, reading the Bible is a good thing. It helps me get my head on straight—and surely attitude has a lot to do with keeping a right perspective. But Hebrews doesn’t say the Scripture helps us judge us judge. It says the “word of God†helps us. The logos from John 1 who was in the beginning. Certainly, the “word of God†means Scripture, but it also means much more than that.
And in this context, the word of God seems to mean something even more specific than Jesus himself or Scripture itself. It also means a specific word from God about rest.
God calls us into his rest.
This reminds me of a little video that’s been a big hit in our house lately.
When my mother-in-law watched this with us, she was horrified. The song does trample on the protestant work ethic a bit. But I think there’s more to it than that.
Somehow, like in the little song, my work flows out of my rest. So that I say, “Oh yes, I also practice trumpet everyday.†Or “Oh yes, I also edit words everyday.â€
When editing words or practicing trumpet becomes work—that’s because I’ve forgotten to let God’s rest permeate everything I do. Surely, there’s no better prescription for adjusting my attitude than that? We’re talking about the ultimate attitude adjustment here. Work itself includes rest. This doesn’t mean we don’t also take time off.
Our culture idolizes work in some ways.
I need to unplug from the computer on Sunday. I need to have no agenda on Sunday. I need to go see Kung Fu Panda with my son on Sunday with no agenda except to laugh and laugh and stop for Chinese food on the way home.
Simply put, it is easier to have a positive attitude in our work and our daily lives—an attitude of rest—when we obey God’s specific call to rest.
The first HighCallingBlogs.com meme is spreading around the net. We’ve got people reflecting on lessons from some really odd jobs - a BBQ busboy, a Venus Fry Cook (not really), a sorter of phone cords (phones have cords?), and one really frightening picture of gas masks.
Drop by our main page to read some of these fun articles and insights.
And if you’ve ever had an odd job, write about it! Then shoot me an email so I can include you in the group. My Editor-in-Chief for TheHighCalling.org has tentatively agreed to let us publish the best meme entry on TheHighCalling.org. It could be you!
A few months ago, I had the opportunity to interview Francis Collins for TheHighCalling.org. (You can read part one here.) Dr. Collins is the author of the New York Times hardback and paperback bestseller, The Language of God.
As far as I’m concerned, this book should be required reading for all Christians.
At Laity Lodge, we’ve had a close connection to J. I. Packer for many years. Every year, I get the chance to hear this man speak and open the Scripture. At first, his style seemed dry to me, but gradually I came to appreciate the incredible wisdom he has. One Laity Lodge director described listening to Packer as being something akin to drinking from a firehose.
In the first ever posted Laity Lodge video, here’s J. I. Packer describing his calling to write. (I’d be curious what you think of the video, too.)
50,000 words each week. That’s how much people are writing as participants of HighCallingBlogs.com. A new draft of a nonfiction book about faith and work–each week! How awesome is that?
Gordon and I are slowly getting a handle on the gargantuan task of managing the network of HighCallingBlogs.com.
For Christmas, the Christian Science Fiction and Fantasy Folks are featuring the second issue of the ezine Wayfarer’s Journal. The journal has had a bit of a slow start, only publishing two issues last year, but there are a few stories and poems to browse through.
My favorite elements of the site are nonfiction. For example, Brandon Barr’s discussion of Christian themes in Cordwainer Smith or Terri Main’s article on Luke Skywalker vs. St. Luke (great title). Terri Main concludes, “In all literature a character’s Christianity should set him or her apart from non-Christian characters. They must not only believe differently, they must also act differently. That means that they cannot use carnal weapons, either figuratively or literally, to win a spiritual war. They cannot confuse the agents of the enemy for the enemy himself.”
Now, that makes me think. I agree with the sentiment, but I wonder what kind of advice that becomes for someone who is sitting down to tell a ripping good yarn.
On their home page, Wayfarer’s Journal states that their mission is to “publish and review science fiction with a spiritual dimension.” Although that mission only implies that they are looking for ripping good yarns, focusing on the spiritual dimension is still a worthy, ambitious goal.
And it raises an important question for writers of Christian science fiction–or Christian fantasy, Christian fiction, Christian poetry, Christian drama, even good old fashioned Christian nonfiction.
What makes something spiritual?
(Keep reading, and I promise I’ll get to the picture of the fishheads.)
Mary has already traced this meme to the fifth generation. Impressive! I’m a delayed first generation post. The rules are self-explanatory, but you can read the details at Mary’s original post.
Quick: What were you doing ten, twenty and thirty years ago?
Reading Craver’s post about insane soccer parents, I got to thinking about competitive sports.
This weekend, I went to a preseason Spurs game against the Houston Rockets. It was the last game of preseason, and I’ve never seen anything like a preseason game.
Early in the game, the players were giving encouragement to <i>the opposing team</i> after good plays. Coach Popovitch gave one Houston player a big hug during an early timeout.
Took a quick break from the underworld to twitter my despair and found Michael Hyatt’s tweet. Hyatt is the CEO of Thomas Nelson, and he was bemoaning an author’s woes over a new book they’re publishing on the faith of Obama. (That sounds a little sarcastic, but I don’t mean it to be.)
A few months ago, I had the opportunity to interview Francis Collins for TheHighCalling.org. (You can read part one 
50,000 words each week. That’s how much people are writing as participants of HighCallingBlogs.com. A new draft of a nonfiction book about faith and work–each week! How awesome is that?
For Christmas, the 
Mary has already traced this meme to the fifth generation. Impressive! I’m a delayed first generation post. The rules are self-explanatory, but you can read the details at 
