Live. Love. Laugh.

“Life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans.” – John Lennon, “Beautiful Boy”

We often live our lives waiting for the future. We make big dreams. We have desires, the plans for our lives, or at least, the way we want our lives to pan out. “Shoot for the moon,” every high school valedictorian honestly (but unfortunately, so tritely) proses, “for even if you miss, you’ll be among the stars.”

We want to be extraordinary (who wants to be ordinary?). We want to reach our fullest potential, to do things with excellence (which, in Christian circles is usually guilt-tripped into you by some goofy proof-texting like “let all things be done decently and in order” [1 Cor. 14:40] or “make the most of every opportunity because the days are evil” [Eph. 5:16]). We are convinced, like everyone else, God wants to use us for something great; or if this is unachieveable, as one cliché proposes, “If you can’t do great things, do small things in a great way.”

Philosopher Martin Heidegger, was well aware of this phenomenon—not of bad commencement speeches, but of the way the future shapes our lives. To him, the authentic self does not live in the present but in the future. He looks straight into the eyes of death and takes life by the horns and makes something out of it. Each one of us is thrown into a set of possibilities beyond our personal choice or abilities—the “(un)natural lottery” as some thinkers prefer to call it—and it is from this array of future possibilities that we take ownership of who we are.

But human freedom, nonetheless, and as evident as it is, life often tends to take us by the horns. Our dreams are fettered by impossible obstacles—we do not live in an “equal opportunity” world. Our plans are redirected upon some new, unknown trajectory by a decision here, indecision there, indifference in this aspect of our lives, time that passes by too quickly. Singleness. Divorce. A life-changing accident. Cancer. An unplanned pregnancy. “Life comes at you fast,” one commercial reminds us, but no insurance policy can help us regain an understanding of our own (mis)identity amidst the flurry of activity, events, and even mundane routines that make up our fleeting existence.

A different hand is dealt us than we expected. At first, we become disoriented or angry; we blame God and others for this life that becomes our real life. We get frustrated that our short lives are largely composed of the same boring activities: sleeping, eating, practicing personal hygiene, clothing ourselves, sitting in traffic, buying groceries, doing laundry. And when we realize “each man’s life is but a breath. Man is a mere phantom…” (Ps. 39:5-6), we wish to be a cat with nine lives, or we secretly hope reincarnation is actually true so we can come back and do all the things we missed out on in the next time around.

Then, after this bitter pill goes down, we realize a sweetness in its aftertaste. No matter how lame or boring our lifestyle sounds when we tell it to someone else, we find that it is far better than we had ever anticipated.

We find meaning in the squeal of an infant who is squirming while we change his diaper. The local (and by many comparisons, pretty pathetic) restaurant becomes a storehouse of cherished memories. We feel the beauty in the simplicity of our lives, in a brief lunch break with a friend or a drive through the country at dusk on a cool summer day. We enjoy waking up to a kiss even if it includes bad breath.

We relish in the distinct smell of tomato plant on our hands after working in the garden, or a new book freshly unwrapped, or the genuine leather of a baseball glove, or “the smell of a newborn baby’s head” (thanks U2). We enliven our soul with the taste of watermelon on the 4th of July, a cold beer after a hot summer’s day of work, wassail or hot chocolate when frost outlines our windows, and fresh chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven (good anytime).

We find our history by participating in that same cycle of life—birth, school, puberty, more school, marriage, child-rearing, death, and estate taxes—that has been experienced for thousands of generations. Our routine becomes a rhythm, the heartbeat for our life; the hum of the refridgerator, the buzz of the computer with its dying out fan, the ear-piercing alarm clock, the laughter of summer, the fury in insects’ wings who have made their way into the house, the creek of the long-since oiled screen door, and the bodily noises of an infant become the orchestra for the soundtrack of our lives.

We look at all of this and see that it is incredibly more than we could ever ask for or imagine. We taste and see life and declare it is good, no, very good. Life is Beautiful.

“But everything I had to lose
Came back a thousand times in you
And you fill me up with love
Fill me up with love
And you help me stand
'cause I am a family man…
This is not what I was headed for when I began
This was not my plan
It's so much better than” – Andrew Peterson, “Family Man”

Becoming an Emotionally Mature Adult, Part 2

Part 2 of the Sermon...

Practice the Presence of People
Why is all of this important? Because its absolutely central to framing our relationship with God. Allow me to explain. In the account of the story of Moses who asked to see God's glory, God promises to “cause all my goodness to pass by” (Ex 33:19). But what is God's goodness? Well, in the same verse, God tells us: “I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.” Moses is engrossed in the goodness of God and it turns out to be mercy and compassion. God's goodness is not an abstract ideal. It is not a feeling that warms us up inside. And it is certainly not something we can control or possess absolutely. God's goodness is active compassion and mercy, a certain kind of disposition towards the Other. While in our desire for the Infinitely Desireable, we are apt to conceive of it as something to be enraptured by, something that causes us to forget everything else in the world. But the humble God of Philippians 2 who “empties himself,” deflects our desire to simply gaze upon the face of God, because what is really near to God's heart is showing compassion and mercy. In our desire for God, God turns our gaze to our neighbor, to consider how we might show compassion and mercy. Indeed, God could not be called good unless he diverted our desire for him into attention to the needs of the Other. True Religion, is to tend to the needs of the fatherless and the widow. Like the God who empties himself, my being/existence is grounded in my dis-interestedness in my own existence, in my “non-being,” in the emptying of myself for the needs and interests of others.

In this chapter, Pete Scazzero suggests that we not only practice the presence of God, as Brother Lawrence long ago coined; rather, we must “practice the presence of people.” He writes:

Loving well is the essence of true spirituality... God invites us to practice his presence in our daily lives. At the same time, he invites us 'to practice the presence of people,' within an awareness of his presence, in our daily relationships. The two are rarely brought together. [179]

Here, Scazzero makes use of the thought of Jewish philosopher, Martin Buber. In his book, I and Thou, Buber points out that most of our lives are spent treating people like objects, like an it. Like freshmen biology students dissecting frogs, we objectify and dehumanize people, we reduce them to what they can do for us. My neighbors exist to mow their yards to increase my house's property value. The cashier exists to hand me my purchase and run my credit card. My professor exists only to give me the information I need to get the grade I want. But in fleeting moments, we encounter a person not as an It but as a Thou. We relate to them, acknowledge them rather than treat them as an object of knowledge. And in that moment, a sacred space is created between us. In that relation, while allowing the Other to be themselves – to be beyond our comprehension – we encounter the Eternal Thou. Buber writes,

“I know nothing of a ‘world’ and a ‘life in the world’ that might separate a man from God. What is thus described is actually life with an alienated world of It, which experiences and uses. He who truly goes out to meet the world goes out also to God.” (95)

The primary way we interact with God is through other people. We might put it thusly: To love your neighbor as yourself is how to love the Lord your God with all your heart. We don't practice God's presence and practice the presence of others as if they are two different disciplines. They are irrevocably connected. To practice the presence of people is to practice the presence of God. If you really believed this fact, how would it revolutionize the way you view the world, view people?

Scripture points us to this reality, but it seems that our sermons have missed it. Jacob, after stealing his older brother's birthright, flees for his life. Only many years later does he come into contact with his brother, Esau. Jacob, feared the worst – that perhaps, Esau would kill him or his family. But when it became evident that Esau was not going to repay evil for evil, that they could live in harmony with one another, Jacob exclaimed: “To see your face is like seeing the face of God” (Gen 33:10).

By our ethical actions toward the Other, we enact God's presence. When we bless those who persecute us, we incarnate the God who has mercy on whom he will have mercy. When we love others and practice hospitality we realize the God who has compassion on whom he will have compassion. When we do everything we can to live at peace with one another, we exhibit the God who is slow to anger and abounding in love. And when we feed the hungry, clothe the poor, and care for the stranger, we care for Christ, who told us that “as much as you've done for the least of these, you've done it for me.”

Respect for Self, Respect for Others
Now, there may not be orphans and widows at your every turn. Too often, when we speak of love, we only think of the Mother Theresas of the world, as if the kind of love God wants us to practice is so grandiose that only a small few can achieve that state. But all of us are called to be an emotionally mature adult, for in each day of our lives there are people we are called to love, to treat as a Thou. For we enact our infinite responsibility even by the most mundane of acts, like holding the door open for someone else. As Victor Hugo said in Les Miserables, “There are many great deeds done in the small struggles of life.”

Throughout the chapter, Scazzero paints a helpful picture of what it looks like to be an emotional infant, child, adolescent, and adult. These characteristics can essentially be divided into two groups: how we view ourselves and how we view others.

Being an emotionally mature adult involves a healthy respect for yourself, appreciating the gifts and abilities God gave you. The one who is emotionally immature is not comfortable in his own skin. As a result, he looks for others to care for things he ought to be able to handle himself—he often lacks the confidence to do so. He has an addictive personality—he's looking for something else to make him complete. He unravels quickly from stress and disappointments. He has difficulty communicating his needs and wants because he doesn't know what they are. He is threatened and alarmed by criticism.

The emotionally mature adult, however, recognizes the significance of being a part of the Body of Christ. This is not just a metaphor. This is reality. Metaphors don't have skin and flesh, but we incarnate God's love to the world by our blood, sweat, and tears. I am my own body. Your body is an extension of who you are. Your body shapes your personhood. This is your body and no one else's. These are your hands and feet for serving others, your gifts for contributing to the church. The body is not an inhibitor but is our vehicle for interacting with God's world. We have to learn to be comfortable in our own skin, comfortable with the shape and size of our body, comfortable with the gifts God has given us if we are to adequately serve others. And together, our bodies make up the body of Christ.

If you want to have a practical list for the emotionally mature adult, just look at the list of behaviors in Romans 12. Loving well is not simply an intellectual pursuit we perform with our minds. Romans 12:1-2 is so often preached upon all by itself as if the “renewing of our minds” is completely detached from the rest of this passage. But Paul tells us that the renewal of our minds is really the renewal of our entire way of being in the world. It has a physical component, an active component. Our flesh and blood are a part of who we are and are a part of our emotionally healthy spirituality.

As a result, the self comfortable in her own skin is in tune with her emotions and can clearly communicate her thoughts and feelings without becoming adversarial. She takes responsibility for her attitudes and actions. She is capable of accurately assessing her strengths and weaknesses – she knows her limits, her personality traits, her emotional makeup.

When we are comfortable in our own skin, we can rightly relate to others. Why is this the case? Because only then are we comfortable enough to disagree with others and to be ourselves. When we are comfortable with our own opinions and views, and with our own spiritual journey, we can be relaxed around those who think differently from us, who are critical of us, whose spiritual journey does not look like our own.

In his encountering with others, the emotionally immature adult uses others as a means to an end and can hardly see the world from the perspective of others. Because he is not confident about his own beliefs and opinions, he is easily hurt, often interprets disagreements as personal offenses, and is apt to go on the defensive. He keeps an account of the things he does for others and expects them to pay him back. He is critical and judgmental of the spiritual journey of others, comparing his journey theirs.

The emotionally mature adult not only healthily disagrees and communicates well with others, she respects others without feeling the need to change them. She appreciates others for who they are, accepting the good and the bad about them. She can resolve conflict maturely and gives people the space to make mistakes. Rather than ignoring conflict, she pursues true peace as much as is possible and sees the potential good in conflict. She is a good listener. She gives people the benefit of the doubt and is careful not to hold tightly onto assumptions about others. She clearly communicates the expectations she has for others.

There is a lot to think about here. What would it look like to be a church full of emotionally mature adults? Each of us probably need to reflect specifically on some of these characteristics and ask ourselves how we are still emotionally immature.

Allow me to end with this: In 1914, the newly appointed Pope Benedict XV called Catholics “to appease dissension and strive” in order that “no one should consider himself entitled to affix on those who merely do not agree with his ideas the stigma of disloyalty to faith.” Do we treat others with honor and respect, giving them the benefit of the doubt, or do we use our faith journeys as the litmus tests for everyone else?

Becoming an Emotionally Mature Adult, Part 1

This past week, I preached at our church, which is nearing the end of a series on a book entitled, Emotionally Healthy Spirituality by Peter Scazzero who is a pastor in Queens. I highly recommend the book which is not only a very simple introduction to the spiritual disciplines/practices but shows how emotional and spiritual health are irrevocably tied. I was asked to speak on chapter 9, where Scazzero points out that the outflow of the spiritual disciplines, the intended result of the spiritual practices, is to love others well. Rather than preaching through the contents of the chapter, I took this idea and virtually ran with it, largely depending on the thought of one of my favorite philosophers, Emmanuel Levinas. After the congregational reading of Romans 12, this is what I had to say:

Intro
Loving well, Pete Scazzero tells us, is the goal of emotionally healthy spirituality. The outflow of learning to have emotional boundaries and engaging in spiritual practices is to interact with one another with love, respect, and dignity. Silence, solitude, meditation, the Ignatian examen, all of the personal disciplines are good things, but unless they help you love others better, they are completely worthless.

This is the chapter most forgotten in books on the spiritual disciplines. So often, the Christian life is focused only on contemplation, on our vertical, individual relationship with God, while our horizontal relationships are all but forgotten. This is the devastating heritage of much of Christian spirituality throughout church history. Christianity appropriated the Greek philosophy which diminished the physical world, virtually viewing the body as evil, and placed a high value on unity with the One, or God. Augustine, Aquinas, the ascetics, monks, and mystics like Theresa of Avila, by accepting this set of values came to view the goal of life as to continually disassociate with the things and people and relationships of this world in exchange for a detached, intimate, personal encounter with God.

This way of thinking still bears its mark on the way we think about relating to God. While we do talk about the Christian life as being part of a Body, as we just read in Romans 12, and occasionally we speak of God's covenant people when we speak of the Old Testament, by and large, ingrained into our mind is the necessity of a “personal relationship with God.” Perhaps its the result of our hyper-individualistic culture, or the remaining effects of modern conceptions of God that make us so confident we can neatly mark the parameters of God's character and actions by our own ingenuity. On the contrary, as Peter Scazzero continually notes, God is incomprehensible. He is the Incomprehensible. Even Moses, who it is said God spoke to “face to face, as a man speaks to his friend” (Ex 33:11) – whose interaction with God it should be noted, was the exception and not the rule among the Israelites – was not able to see God face to face, could not bear to encapsulate the divine in one image, in one moment in time.

We are Inherently Ethical
I want to suggest that, loving well is not just the goal of emotionally healthy spirituality; it is actually the beginning. Let me repeat that: our relationship to the Other is not just the goal of emotionally healthy spirituality but it is actually the beginning.

What do I mean by that? I mean that our existence is defined by Others. Think about it for a moment. What makes us humans unique? What about us is essentially human? We might ask, what does it mean to be made in the Image of God? Aristotle defined man as a “rational animal.” Descartes called man a “thinking thing.” By these definitions, our mind is what distinguishes us from everything else in the world. Monkeys, for instance, cannot perform calculus. Well, most of us cannot perform calculus.

But to reduce man to a “thinking thing” is problematic as well. For one thing, it continues the dualism that I mentioned before, the idea that what is really real, what is most important about us humans is what cannot be seen, that our bodies are relatively unimportant and not integral to who we are. To be a thinking thing reduces the Christian life to a mental activity, to aligning our mind with the mind of God. For another, we could point out that if the progress of technology continues as it is, there will be robots in the world plenty capable of thinking better than we can, capable of logic, capable of placing every action into a certain equation.

So is humanhood reducible to the fact that God breathed his breath or spirit of life into us that we may be a living being? No, because Gen 1:30, 6:17, and 7:15 tell us that the animals also have this breath of life. Are we essentially human because we have language? Ants and dolphins and parrots communicate by means of signs. Is it that we are social beings, that we crave and depend on interaction for our sanity? Wolves hunt in packs, geese fly in flocks, and elephants gather together to mourn their dead.

Instead, what makes us essentially human is that we are a particular kind of social being, and that our minds are put to a particular use: We are inherently ethical beings. I am responsible for the Other before any agreement or contract. Before I even know the Other's name, her face commands me: “Thou shalt not kill.” We are moral beings. The existence of Others and responsibility they inherently establish upon us is what ultimately makes us human. Like the Trinitarian God, the Father, Son, and Spirit, who in their humility—which is a moral quality—are endlessly looking out for the interests of each other, we are not to think of ourselves more highly than we ought to think but rather honor one another above ourselves. Like the Father, Son, and Spirit, we are to live in harmony with one another.

Ethics is not an afterthought. It is not the byproduct of right thinking. Ethics is who we are, what defines us. It precedes right thinking. That ethics even precedes thought can be seen by those moments when split second actions are necessary. A child runs into the road in front of my car and I slam on the brakes or swerve around him. I do not know this child but I have an ethical responsibility for him.

But in in the real world, there is more than just me in my car and this singular child in front of me. In our lives, we must adjudicate between a variety of decisions, multiple layers of ethical responsibilities that barrage us from a million faces. We have an infinite number of responsibilities that we can never fulfill; we must choose. But in this situation, choosing is what makes us human. How can one choose between two immeasurable responsibilities? How can one choose between two priceless lives? This impossible choice, the ability to make decisions beyond the outline of a textbook, mathematical theorem, or logical equation is what makes us human, is what makes us more than a machine.

Robots think in the black and white. They cannot practice grace, justice, mercy, compassion, and love. Robots can figure out logical sequences, make decisions based on probability and statistical analysis. But there is not a list of equations that we simply learn and then we know how to solve all the problems in the world. Equations are for machines. Ethical humans make decisions that break out of the system of logic. There is no logic to love.

D.C. Trip Day 2

On Day 2, we traveled to see the three buildings that represent the three branches of our U.S. government. But first, a really cool looking corridor. The side of the building said it was the "Post Office Building," as opposed to the "Old Post Office" across the street. However, the glass door entering into the actual office space said it was the office for the EPA. Go figure. We knew best as the place we changed Emerson's diaper.

As we walked NW on Pennsylvania Ave in the muggy heat, the revving of thousands of engines could be heard. Beginning on Constitution Ave near the Washington Mall the "Rolling Thunder" parade of 60,000 motorcycles began. Viewing all the motorcycles over the weekend certainly was a sight to see, but quickly turned into a nuisance when we were trying to get Emerson to take a nap!




















We finally made it to the White House in the late morning and Emerson had already about had it. He was sick of being in his stroller so I was carrying him around while trying to keep his burp cloth on his head to prevent any sunburn. Ah, the joys of parenting. After two months of parenting, you think you've got it all figured out. Everything seems so straight forward. He has a cry for a dirty diaper, a whimper for when he is tired, a scream of terror when he thinks he's going to starve to death, and a pain cry when he needs to burp or pass gas. So, you change him, feed him, burp him, and put him to sleep. Then, he discovers how to fight sleep to the point of temporary insanity. Then, the first vaccine which screws him up for a week (at least!). Then, you go on a trip and mess up his routine and schedule. Then, he starts teething. It's all a nice reminder that you don't know what the hell you're doing and its only by the grace of God that any child survives infancy (or that any parent survives parenting). The Bible tells us that children are a gift from the Lord. I'm guessing that if the authors of the Bible had elaborated on children any further nobody would have decided to become a parent.

And so, since I'm currently dealing with a fussy baby as I type this, I'll stop there and leave you with the following photos.

D.C. Trip Day 1

This past weekend, we spent some time in D.C. for a brief trip. The experience had a couple goals: to see how well Emerson travels in preparation for flying out to Utah in June (and the hills on the turnpike made Emerson's ears pop [as well as mine] and boy did he not like it!), to get out of Pittsburgh for a change, go some place inexpensive (virtually everything to see in DC is free), and so Amber could experience the capital for the first time. We didn't see as much as I had hoped to see (you never do, right?), but Amber will tell you I'm a bit too aggressive in my trip plans. Plus traveling with an infant just wears you out and slows you down. However, I'm totally digging pushing a stroller around - you can put all of your things in it rather than carry them!

So, here's a brief pictorial of Day 1 in pictures, starting with Emerson digging the Homewood Suites furniture and AC -- he was real sluggish in the heat and just woke right up when we got into the hotel. He did great the first day then had a train wreck on day two. Between the heat, change in routine, and possibly teething (we think) it was just too much.
Next, the Lincoln Memorial, which was probably the most moving site we visited. I'll have to write an entire blog later about that. An interesting aside - Reagan Int'l Airport is not far from downtown D.C. and planes fly directly over the Lincoln Memorial just a few hundred feet in the air, which was really spooky to me since I'm not used to that as it reminded me of Sept. 11. Then, there was the Vietnam Memorial which was packed with Vets and Bikers who were there for the "Rolling Thunder" Memorial Day parade (more on that on Day 2), so we just looked at it from a distance.

From there, we walked down the Mall toward the Washington Monument (America's biggest phallic symbol - I mean seriously, what's the point?) and the recently built WWII memorial. The WWII memorial was significant to me since my grandfather fought at the Battle of the Bulge and was wounded while serving for the 101st Airborne. It also was not in existence when I went to DC as a child. To be honest, its not really a spectacular sight to see, but its admirable to honor those who fought in the war... although my feelings are mixed. On one wall at the WWII memorial, there was a quote by General George C. Marshall which said: "We are determined that before the sun sets on this terrible struggle our flag will be recognized throughout the world as a symbol of freedom on the one hand and of overwhelming force on the other." It is too bad these qualities are believed to be inherently connected. I wonder, when freedom and "overwhelming force" are combined together, which one wins out? Which quality is America most known for today?

Next, we walked by the Smithsonian Castle - a very beautiful building, but there's not much inside (its basically a visitor's center). We actually did not get to spend any time in the Smithsonian museums. That was on the docket for day two, but alas, we were too tired and Emerson too fussy to go through any of the myriad of museums that make up the Smithsonian (which is also free). I remember as a child, my older brother Brandon and I, while going through the Air and Space museum, made sure to touch the wing of every fighter plane we could get near.

Then, there was the National Holocaust Museum. We actually did not get to see much of it, because they sold out of tickets for the main exhibits literally just before we were going to get ours. So we walked around in there for a while, enjoyed the cool air, and rested our feet for awhile. Then, we made our way to leave when a security personnel shouted at us, "You're going to have to move aside, as we have a VIP coming through. Please step aside." I was expecting them to come in through the Exit doors to avoid the lines, but then an entourage of cops and guards and VIPs came through behind me. Amber was "so smitten" (as she said later) that she failed to tell me who was coming. But we were in the perfect place at just the right time for me to get off a couple (albeit lousy) shots of the VIP...

I guess Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg (Valkyrie) decided to visit the Holocaust Museum himself (you would have thought he had done it before the movie came out, right?). Hello, Tom Cruise. Dude, the guy is short.

"The War Prayer"

Caution: This post will make you extremely uncomfortable and will probably make you dislike me.

Amidst the Philippine-American War, Mark Twain wrote a short story entitled, The War Prayer. This brief work details the account of a patriotic church service focused on praying for the enlisted men headed off to war. During the service, the pastor of the church leads the congregation in a long prayer, asking for God’s presence with the American soldiers as they head into battle, to “aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work…shield them in the day of battle…make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory.”

As the pastor prays, a frail, old man appears on the stage near the pulpit. As the pastor finishes his prayer, the old man touches him on the shoulder and speaks: “I come…bearing a message from Almighty God!” This messenger tells the congregation that this prayer has been heard, so long as they understood the “full import” it carries. It turns out, the prayer is not one but two, “one uttered, the other not.” But God has heard both. For, “When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for the many unmentioned results which follow victory—must follow it.” The messenger proceeds to tell them the unuttered part of the prayer:

“O Lord our God…Help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead…
Help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire;
Help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief;
Help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended…
For our sakes, who adore Thee, Lord,
Blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage…water their way with tears…
We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love
And who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset…”

The congregation’s response to the real truth of the prayer they had offered to heaven? “ It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.” The End.

As I think of the $670 billion spent in Iraq for our military endeavor, the 4 million Iraqis displaced from their homes, the 1.3+ million Iraqis who have died since our invasion of their country, the pictures I have seen of orphaned and wounded Iraqi children, the ravaged Iraqi countryside, and the many years it will take for that country to be stabilized, I must ask, what kind of prayer did we pray? What are the implicit prayers we have prayed as a nation as we send our sons (and daughters) to Iraq? While the “unuttered” prayer in the story speaks only to the ravaging effects war has on the country being attacked, we need only think of the news headlines from this week alone to think of another implicit prayer at work as we pray for “victory”:

O God, may we damn our country before the eyes of the world.
May we shame ourselves by horrendous acts of torture upon the “enemy.”
May our leaders debate in anguish over the value of photographs depicting our soldiers’ actions.
May our men open fire upon their own platoon and send their fellow soldiers home in a coffin.
May Iraqi women be gang-raped and their families murdered.
May we hide from the truth, refusing to believe what “America” has become.

On a completely different (though not wholly dissimilar note), the idea that our prayers often have an unuttered aspect to them makes me wonder about the underside of all our prayers, wonder how often all kinds of prayers of blessing for ourselves turn out to be a curse upon someone else. One man thanks God for a sunny day at the beach; a farmer down the road curses God for allowing his crops to die. One man prays their team will win; another prays in support of the opponent [does God care?]. One man thanks God for the 4-course meal before him; a child in Haiti wonders if God is going to do anything about the world food crisis. One man thanks God he has a new job because the new factory did indeed open; another man curses God for being laid off as the company relocates. How do we reconcile this fact? How does God deal with all of this (Which reminds me of the move Bruce Almighty when Bruce makes a computer program to keep track of everyone’s prayers and simply replies “Yes” to all of them.)? Your thoughts?

"Fireproof" : A Review

If you haven't heard of Fireproof, it's the latest made-for-Christian-audience movie that amazed critics by turning a stellar profit – beginning with a $500,000 budget and grossing over $33 million in theatres (but let's not get too excited quite yet). Indeed, the movie has taken on a life of its own, spawning the publishing of two books which have made the New York Times Bestseller list and have generated “Fireproof your marriage” conferences in church all throughout the country.

Fireproof, made by a church ministry that also filmed Facing the Giants, is the story of Caleb Holt (aka Kirk Cameron), a firefighter who's marriage is on the rocks as he struggles with internet porn, has an incontrollable temper, and saves his earnings for a boat while his wife's mother struggles to recover from a stroke. [spoiler alert] The basic plot of the story can be summarized quite simply: Caleb and his wife, Catherine, decide to get a divorce; Caleb's dad gives him a journal of things to do for his wife over the course of 40 days (like buy her flowers, clean the house, don't respond to her with sarcastic remarks, etc) as an attempt to save the marriage; Caleb's Christian co-worker, Michael, continues to challenge him to keep at the activities in the journal even when they go awry; Catherine is pursued by Dr. Keller at her job at the hospital; Caleb performs a number of heroics as a firefighter; Caleb receives divorce papers from his wife; Caleb finds Jesus; Caleb wins Catherine back when she finds out he donated the $24,000 he had saved for his boat to medical supplies for her mom. And they live happily ever after.

I wanted to like this movie. In fact, there were even three scenes when I got choked up a bit – which happened to be the same three scenes Kirk Cameron was capable of convincing me with his acting abilities. It wasn't the poor acting that bothered me so much (I was expecting that), nor the poor script with zero artistic presentation. What bothered me was the kind of Christianity portrayed in the movie and the myriad of stereotypes and caricatures that were utilized throughout it. The basic message of the movie is: its impossible to love your spouse unless you're a Christian – a message that is both untrue and offensive. Every single character in the movie who has a positive relationship is a Christian, and their marriages only got solid when they gave their lives to Jesus. Caleb's simplistic conversion experience in the movie adds to this naïve picture, as everything in his life comes together with relative ease after Jesus takes control.

Furthermore, the roles of each character play to general stereotypes that make the movie all the more distasteful: The steady portrayal of women in the movie is that they are weak-willed and over-emotional and not as responsible for the solidity of a marriage as the husband (although there is one highlight at the very end that is noteworthy). The gossips in the hospital where Catherine works are led by a heavy-set black woman. All of Catherine's “unchristian” friends continually tell her to ditch her husband. All of Caleb's co-workers (with the exception of Michael the Christian, of course) are egotistical and immature men. All the Christians are pure saints and the unChristians are either villains or only their for a dose of humor in the movie. And Caleb solves his addiction to porn by smashing his computer with a baseball bat (as if that really got to his heart).

Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure this movie and the subsequent books and conferences that have come from it have helped people (although my guess is, for the most part, it has only been seen by conservative Christians who watched it because it was what they wanted to hear). They may have even saved some marriages. The advice given to Caleb in the journal and some of the truths talked about in the movie regarding the difficulties of love and marriage are indeed helpful. And I wholeheartedly believe Christianity has something to say about marriage. But rather than creating another Christian entertainment fad that we sell to death so conservative Christians have something to spend their money on without feeling guilty (e.g., Prayer of Jabez, Passion of the Christ, Left Behind, etc), why can't we just make quality art, honest art, and tell stories about the mystery and messyness of life and stop acting like life and faith are so simple, as if we unquestioningly have all the answers (how many of these Christian marriages will need re-saving just in time for the next fad to come around?)? If we are going to communicate a message of hope to our world it can't be so compartmentalized, simplistic, naïve, and lack reflection about the not-so-black-and-white world we live in.