I’m drawn to biographies of inspiring men and women.  This summer, I enjoyed Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas.  Bonhoeffer, of course, was imprisoned for his participation in a conspiracy against Hitler, ultimately paying the ultimate price of his life.  Several things gripped me about his story, however.

First, Bonhoeffer lived a bold, risky, and public faith.  He got it, and got it when he was still very young.  He and his family saw through Hitler’s narcissism and racism, and many family members (including his inspiring grandmother!) stood against the growing tyranny.  Bonhoeffer took on ecclesial authorities, friends, and mentors…often at great cost.

Second, Bonhoeffer started seminaries.  At first, this does not sound radical.  But, in a generation when pastoral education had become stale and irrelevant, Bonhoeffer went off the grid.  He started schools to educate a new generation of pastors, valuing the importance of life in community, prayer, theological integrity, and cultural engagement.  This was short-lived vision, as he was found out, but the lasting impact is seen in a good number of influential friends and students made during these days.

Third, Bonhoeffer was a scholar-practitioner.  In other words, Bonhoeffer was a leading thinker and a leading doer.  At different points, he sacrificed the privilege of being either/or.  He turned down prestigious teaching positions.  And he left prestigious pastorates.  This is because he saw no dichotomy between the two.  His clear thinking about the implications of Christian faith led him to an irreversible lifestyle of costly discipleship – eventually costing him his life.

It’s easy to think about Bonhoeffer in idealistic ways, as if he were a saint without fault, or a disciple who took the road-less-traveled at every turn.  Metaxas shows a very human Bonhoeffer, a man we can all relate to.  He documents Bonhoeffer’s edgy and angry personality, which often erupted in sharp letters.  He shows Bonhoeffer’s pride and self-pity.  He shows an uncertain and confused man, wondering which path God would have him take.  He shows a man falling in love amidst a world in conflict.  And he tells of a man who seems to be vacationing and playing as much as he is risking and studying.  In other words, he shows us a saint for our own time, an imperfect life, but a life to which we can aspire.

Biographies have an amazing capacity to inspire.  The best biographies tell the whole truth, which tell our truths.  The great novelist Frederick Buechner says in his memoir that our stories tell something of our own humanness, our capacity to achieve great things and make horrible mistakes.  Every good story has its peaks and valleys.  Mine does.  I’m sure yours does too.

Every good storyteller will tell this story.  And Metaxas tells it well.  Bonhoeffer inspires, in part because he risks in ways in which I long to risk, and in part because he’s your average Joe – laughing, loving, playing, working, loving, and looking to live a meaningful life in the meantime.

His “meantime,” of course, was at the height of Nazi Germany.

Yet, does our “meantime” hold any less risk or promise?

from today’s Daily Office, a canticle of St. Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury (d. 1109)

Jesus, as a mother you gather your people to you:
You are gentle with us as a mother with her children;
Often you weep over our sins and our pride:
tenderly you draw us from hatred and judgment.
You comfort us in sorrow and bind up our wounds:
in sickness you nurse us,
and with pure milk you feed us.
Jesus, by your dying we are born to new life:
by your anguish and labor we come forth in joy.
Despair turns to hope through your sweet goodness:
through your gentleness we find comfort in fear.
Your warmth gives life to the dead:
your touch makes sinners righteous.
Lord Jesus, in your mercy heal us:
in your love and tenderness remake us.
In your compassion bring grace and forgiveness:
for the beauty of heaven may your love prepare us.

+ + + + +

Why post this?  Because exclusively paternal images of God don’t do the Bible justice.  And they rob us of the motherly comfort and care God wants to offer us, particularly when we are a mess, or feel unlovable.  One of my favorite images in the Bible is of an extravagantly loving Father running toward his screwed up, addict of a son.  It’s in Luke 15, and it’s one of the most moving and motherly images of God in the entire Bible.  If you want to learn more about God as a loving and compassionate Mother in Luke 15, read Kenneth Bailey’s fantastic book.

I was speaking at a retreat this weekend when I mentioned that Christians back in the first centuries of the church rescued newborn little girls from large piles of trash.

“Why did you have to say that?” someone said afterwards.

“Because it happened.”

“But that’s just sad,” she said, as we stood there in silence.

The early followers of Christ were bold.  But, for the most part it was not a boldness that felt like the “in-your-face” Christian zealotry of today.  It was simple.  Humble.

And the world took notice.

Isn’t it the case that the simplest things often get missed in our all-too-frequent attempts to be profound?

Consider love.  It’s the thing we, Christians, have the hardest time with.

It defines God, and yet we spend more time defending God’s right to be angry with people than His desire to love.

1 John 4:8 hits me square between the eyes.  Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. I know theology.  I know about God.  I know how to diagnosis emotional and relational disorders.  I know why my theology is right and yours is wrong.  All of these things can be studied and learned.

But I have great difficulty with love.

I suspect it takes a wisdom that comes with time.  It involves learning what love isn’t by hurting others and failing.  It takes seeing how wrong I am, even if or when I have my facts right.  It requires vulnerability.  It chooses to listen rather than to correct.  It means saying hard things with great humility, and overwhelming concern for the well-being of the other.  It is elusive, because when you think you’ve discovered love’s secret, you inevitably fail at it again.

Christians at their best have been known by their love.  They rescued newborn little girls from trash heaps in the first centuries of the church.  They became advocates for the poor and rejected.  They presented an alternative to the greed-and-power-driven.  They risked their lives to put the Bible into the hands of ordinary people.  They rejected distinctions of Hutu or Tutsi, Croat or Serb, Jew or German, choosing to stay and become a target.  Today, they abandon lucrative careers in law to join International Justice Mission in the fight against sex trafficking in Third World countries.  They start La’Arche and live among the mentally handicapped.  They stay in marriages with difficult people.  They own their failures with a kind of recklessness that defies our human tendency to self-protect and defend at any cost.

I know a lot of theology.  But do I know love?

Many Christians like to reminisce about more noble times long ago.  They say things like:

“Our country was founded on Christians values.”

“Our culture is becoming worldly and evil.”

“The young people of today are so selfish and corrupt.”

Just the other day someone said to me, “I wonder what San Francisco was like before the sexual revolution.  It’s such a beautiful city.  Too bad it’s been so contaminated by people of low character.”

Hmmm.

It’s seems to me that the Bible is chock full of screwed up people.  Some of the great heroes of the faith include King David – an adulterer and conspirator to murder, King Solomon – a man who makes Tiger Woods look like “Pa” on Little House of the Prairie, Rahab – the prostitute, Tamar – the seductress, Peter – the power-happy betrayer, Paul – the murderer…and those are merely the biblical characters.  A brief look at the history of Christianity turns up an even more sordid array of questionable characters.

To the person who longs for a San Francisco prior to the Sexual Revolution, he will need to deal with the truth-twisting that comes with a narrative that ennobles the men who came in the late 1840’s searching for that great “American dream” of a new life.  Those same men, who we venerate as heroes and pioneers, left their families in search of the dream of wealth, but also found the need to fulfill their sexual dreams, too.  They ultimately paved the way for rampant prostitution and sexual exploitation of young Asian women, in particular.  Sometimes, we glorify the past and venerate the great heroes, but do we really believe they were any different than David and Solomon?

I heard a television personality bash President Obama the other day as a man who dares to call into question the great and noble history of our American nation.  Does it really help when we say, “How dare you question our country’s noble Christian history?”

Have we forgotten about original sin?  Are we really naïve enough to believe that sin suddenly escalated in the late 60’s and 70’s, and now finds its headquarters in Hollywood and San Francisco?

It’s time to go back and learn our history.  It’s time to read our Bibles.  And, perhaps more importantly, it’s time to look in the mirror.

Do you notice how we are prone to say “A part of me feels this way, and a part of me feels that way”?

Do you have times when you feel at harmony with God, the world and yourself – something contemplative have called a “unitive” experience?  And do you have other times where you feel as if you’re divided within, stumbling over yourself, acting in discord with yourself?

Have you ever done something stupid and said, “I’m not sure who did that.  It wasn’t me.”

Postmodern psychology has speculated on the idea that we are multiple, manifesting in different selves for every occasion.  I’m more persuaded that we are one and many, unity and multiplicity, particle and wave – in the image of our Trinitarian God.  In fact, I think it makes a lot of sense out of the confusion, disunity, and disharmony we feel within (and experience in our communities).

If you are curious and want to read more, check out these older blog posts:

http://drchuckdegroat.wordpress.com/2009/06/03/a-heart-divided-against-itself-cannot-stand-the-parts-we-play/

http://drchuckdegroat.wordpress.com/2009/12/08/the-habits-of-prison-the-tug-towards-home/

http://drchuckdegroat.wordpress.com/2009/10/21/wilderness-emergence/

This may be the most profound writing I’ve ever done.

I don’t often look at how many blog hits I get.  But the biggest hits I got recently were from the 40 at 40 post “Books I wish I would have written but others have written (much!) better.” That got me thinking…what might top that?

How about TV girls I loved in the 70′s and 80′s?  This is far more compelling than a bunch of Christian books, right?  Plus, all of you who are my age can relate to the times when you mentioned an old TV show, and 25 year old friends looked at you blankly.  And I run the risk of more feedback from some of you who think this is territory a “pastor” shouldn’t stray in to.

Either way, help me prove that this kind of blog will NOT receive more hits than ones that I have written about suffering, spiritual growth, mission, or other topics by NOT re-tweeting, re-posting, or commenting.  This will assure that the world is a safe and decent place, filled with reflective people.

But, here we go:

Let’s do this as a Top 5:

At # 5 – Suzanne Somers from Three’s Company – Chrissy is who the other guys talked about, so I had to chime in too.  But, she lacked depth and characterization, something a 7-year old ought to know.

#4 – Pam from The Greatest American Hero – Connie Sellecca – From 1981 to 1983, William Katt played Ralph Hinkley, perhaps the worst superhero ever to attempt to save humanity.  Pam saved the show.

#3 – Wonder Woman. Played by Lynda Carter, this superhero convinced all 7 year old boys that there really was an Amazon colony of women on Paradise Island located somewhere near Bermuda.

#2 – Stacy from TJ Hooker - Played by Heather Locklear,  Stacy showed that even though she was the Captain’s daughter, she was also a great police officer.  My sister said that her hair was “feathered,” whatever that means.

#1- Athena from Battlestar Galactica – Yes, sci-fi nerds, there was another Battlestar Galactica back in the 70′s, our television version of Star Wars.  And between the ages of 8 and 10, I became a fan not only of Apollo and Commander Adama, but of the beautiful Athena, my first love.  I include her picture to conclude this very deep and meaningful post:

My friend Dave says “we live in the future.” He should know. He helps create it.  And I’m most proud of his wise reflection about it.

I believe Dave.

I did an entire Ph.D. in Psychology virtually. If I needed a book, it was in my snail mailbox the next day, or in my email within minutes as an e-book. I had access to every journal and article I needed via the John Hopkins University database. I didn’t step foot in a library once. And I completed the degree in 3 years all because I didn’t need to go anywhere. It all came to me.

A professor in seminary back in the mid-90′s told us that there would be a day very soon when we, the pastors, would no longer be the experts. He told us that people would sit in our congregations armed with information never before available. This new phenomenon called the internet, he argued, would land in the hands of ordinary people (much like the Bible landed in the hands of ordinary people courtesy of Martin Luther)…and it would be in their hands even as they sat in the pews. They’d look up those big Greek and Hebrew words we were using, and perhaps even question our use of them because of their instant access to online dictionaries, lexicons, and more.

It made no sense at the time.  But the future is now, Dave says.

Christians living in the past will likely react how many reacted when Luther galvanized the use of the printing press for the Gospel.  Change never comes without a fight.  But, the reality is that traditional ways of learning and living are dying.  The newspapers cannot give us information fast enough.  Seminaries cannot train pastors quick enough.  And phones…well, who wants a phone that merely allows you to hear another person when you can see them.  Intimacy, after all, is conveyed powerfully through eye contact.

But what technology cannot bestow to us is wisdom.  Wise practice is what changes people and civilizations.  And even wise practice is elusive.  Luther didn’t know that putting the Bible in the hands of the people might create deep division and biblical malpractice unlike anything the church had seen previously.  Wisdom, it seems, is not something instantly delivered.

The church, if it chooses, can live in the future.  Here’s a question for you and me to answer:  What will distinguish wise practice from malpractice?  Maybe I’ll see if Dave has some ideas…

I got confronted the other day.  At 40, my jeans are irrelevant, or outdated, or embarrassing, or something…but whatever I wore on Sunday made a couple of mid-twenties co-workers laugh.

(Commence mid-life crisis)

Now, mind you – my jeans fit well.  They feel comfortable.  But they were apparently too light and too loose. The sale rack at Old Navy might not work for me anymore.

I can remember back in the 80′s when I got my first pair of stonewashed jeans.  Stonewashed.  It was a phenomenon.  We didn’t have the internet to research this extraordinary phenomenon of stonewashing.  Where did they come from?  Maybe a group of manly men hiked down into the Grand Canyon with plain jeans in hand, and baptized them in the raging Colorado River?  Jeans born-again = stonewashed.

We’d take our stonewashed jeans, and (if we were really cool) cuff them.  It took me a while to find a rare image of cuffed jeans on the internet.  I promise, this is not me:

The 1990′s are a blur.  I was married.  Perhaps the need to impress dissipated.  And I got tired of paying what the Gap and American Eagle required.  Turns out, Old Navy was invented – the poor man’s Gap of the 1990′s.

Since then, it’s become purely pragmatic.  Sara is shopping in Target, and I browse the men’s section.  I buy a pair of comfortable jeans.  I also discovered Marshall’s, Nordstrom Rack, and other affordable options.

So, it all came to a head on Monday.  “Chuck, what’s up with those jeans you were wearing on Sunday?”

(Crap, I’m 40.)

“Hey, we’ll take you shopping.”

So, I look around to find my tightest, darkest jeans today (which are apparently what is in…right now).  I walk into work today proudly and greet my friends, showing my nice-fitting ‘darker’ jeans.

“Dude, you need more dye.”  What?

So, my boys are taking me shopping next week.  And we’re not going to Target or Marshall’s.

40 at 40 will update you on the results…

“We are forced to do something that the Western churches have never had to do since the days of their own birth – to discover the form and substance of a missionary church in terms that are valid in a world that has rejected the power and influence of the Western nations.  Missions will no longer work along the stream of expanding Western power.  They have to learn to go against the stream.” Lesslie Newbigin, The Open Secret

It’s hard to believe that it was twenty years ago when I was sitting in Prof. Mike Goheen’s living room studying the works of Rene Padilla, David Bosch, and Lesslie Newbigin.  We were studying in Sioux Center, Ia., where mowing your lawn on a Sunday might land you in jail.  And Prof. Goheen (who would go on to complete a dissertation on Newbigin) would say, “If Newbigin were here, he’d tell us that this town needs a missionary encounter!”

Returning from India to the West, Newbigin saw with new eyes the profound secularization of so-called “Christian” culture.  If you’ve ever been to the Third World and returned to the United States, you may know the feeling.  Suddenly, it becomes a bit unbearable to hear “God Bless the USA!” playing on the radio as you shop for a pair of $100 jeans, which replace the pair you bought just a week prior that were ruined when you spilled your Double Tall Sugar-Free Vanilla Soy Latte on them.  You get the picture.  Newbigin did too.  And he believed that missionaries needed to be sent to the West, a culture blinded by power and prosperity.

All this contemporary talk of a “Christian nation” would likely aggravate Newbigin, who believed profoundly that Christians more interested in preserving power looked like the Temple High-Priest than the Suffering Servant.  Newbigin once wrote, “The real triumphs of the gospel have not been won when the church is strong in a worldly sense; they have been won when the church is faithful in the midst of weakness, contempt, and rejection.”  While we’re busy figuring out how to save ‘pagan’ civilizations elsewhere, Newbigin believed that the people who needed the Gospel most were…

…you and me.  With our Big Mac’s, Big Churches, and Big Military.  Ouch.  I’m convicted.

This “big idea” has had a profound impact on me over the years – Don’t send missionaries – invite them.  Invite them from places where they have nothing else to depend on but Jesus, and ask them how to live and love and serve.  Invite them to teach you…the one who is supposed to have all of the knowledge and power that the world knows (in an iPhone!).  Invite them to tell you about Jesus, and how he shows up among them.  Just invite them.

I’m curious…how does “big idea” sit with you?