Echoes and Moments

Many people in my generation  were introduced to pop philosophy through the words of the cloaked future warrior Morpheus, played with concise elegance by one Laurence Fishburne in The Matrix trilogy. Although some dismiss the movies for their shoddy treatment of philosophical and religious themes, I've always been a fan for the pure amount of adrenaline that the series creates as Morpheus guides the hacker turned hero Neo to claim his identity as 'the one.' The series pits humanity against a race of machines that desires nothing but control through a programmed dream world. Neo awakens from this dream to a nightmarish reality where humans "are no longer born, but grown" in vast fields of embryonic chambers. He is trained so that he can face the deadliest of these computer programs, called "agents" and then proceeds to lead us in a series of increasingly impressive action sequences where his skills are honed and we are generally reminded that the purpose ...

Today marks the last full day I'll spend as a resident of the city of Roseville. Tomorrow I embark on the great adventure towards which I've striven these past six months: the move to the inner city of Fresno to minister to college students there. While I never expected to live here as long as I did, there are a few things that I've learned to love about this place, even though it represents a great contrast from the place that I'm called to live in for this next season of life. It's important to me not to reject the life I've found here, for I need to be conscious of all God's children, rich or poor. 5. The Variety of Food Roseville is a large suburban center, designed both as a hub for tech business (Hewlett-Packard has a large plant here) and as a center of major shopping outlets. The entire north-central part of the city is outlined in a Specific Plan (to use the urban planning jargon that I was trained in) that guides development around a ma...

Good art shows, it doesn't tell. Therefore 'Worship Arts' may appear paradoxical at first glance, though it increasingly forms the job description for many new pastoral church staff. For a few years the title 'Worship Coordinator' formed my ministry identity as a member of youth group and later in college. So you may understand my ambivalence when I attempt to explain my practical theology of worship, which has more to do with David crying in a cave than it does with light shows, good guitar tone, and reverb-washed vocals. Let me explain. For many years the contemporary church has been embroiled in something asininely referred to as the "worship wars." Relevant Magazine has a helpful summary of the phenomena for the post-evangelical age, which I won't treat in depth here. See, I led worship for two years in a multiethnic fellowship of college students committed to seeing Jesus transform the lives of students and faculty in a profound and rea...

It hasn't been a good week for evangelical Christianity in terms of media attention. Instead of continuing a long discourse on these topics that will no doubt add to the bewildering amount of chatter surrounding Phil Robertson's controversial statements , I'd like to draw attention to one post from an artist I admire. Her name is Audrey Assad, and you might recognize her modestly beautiful voice singing alongside such fellow CCM giants as Chris Tomlin and Matt Maher. She summarizes her perspective with clarity and draws an important distinction between herself and the voices coming to the aid of Robertson's vitriol:   I want to uphold the dignity of each human life—and as a part of that commitment, I strive to resist the tendency to reduce people to their sexual drives, homosexual or heterosexual or otherwise. Phil Robertson’s perspective on the morals of homosexual marriage may overlap with mine, but I do not arrive at my conclusions about that, or my beliefs abo...

In the middle of the night When dreams suspend belief In the shadows of death's fright I saw you. You wailed my name aloud Before your arms stretched wide With hospital gown a shroud I saw you. The whirlpool of death's shame Your tyranny so clear Mind breaking every frame I saw you. And grace imbues the whole Sick with grief you wept Your majesty so bold I saw you. Mistook your "I" for mine They locked you in that room Shoved pills in every time I saw you. Naked you crawled in mourning Alive you were indeed The yoke lifted soaring I saw you. But me you did not trust You kept your mind's old game And played the part to dust, and I saw you. The little ones did say Reminding you every night The childlike way to pray, I saw you. My father raises life Adopted now you he claims Your broken tattered strife I saw you. My shoulders are enough You've suffered here and far No road will be too rough, for I saw you. And win...

This has been a lonely season for me. I would describe my station in the spiritual journey as a desert, or the wilderness, if you prefer. Don't be alarmed for me; this is a familiar (and deeply sacred) place.  If you've been reading this blog at all, you'll know that I love the desert for its beauty, peace, and tranquility. Not only does the desert remind me of my patria , New Mexico, but it encourages me to look to God when all else seems hopeless and all life seems distant.  I am reading an excellent book by that great master of spiritual formation, Henri J.M. Nouwen (1932-1996), called Reaching Out . In it, he explains how loneliness is one pole of a spectrum of the spiritual journey. The other pole, which God draws us towards, is solitude. He quotes that great master of solitude, the Trappist Monk Thomas Merton (1915-1968). I hope you find this helpful if you, like me, struggle to allow God to draw you away from yourself, into himself, and into the deeper consc...

If you're on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram, you may know that Thursdays have been reduced to a meaningless hashtag "#tbt," otherwise known as "Throwback Thursday." Although I'd normally give an exasperated gasp when scrolling through these feeds, I'm pleasantly surprised by the treasures that can be found after some good retrospective digging. My generation grew up in the 90s, a decade I've written about before and am decidedly biased towards for the extraordinary amount of good music it produced. Today, my #tbt is aimed at Radiohead's sophomore effort, 1995's The Bends . This album is never at the top of the critics list, nor does it include any of the best songs the band has written. It lies awkwardly between their debut Pablo Honey , most famous for their single "Creep," and OK Computer, often named by fans and critics alike as one of the greatest albums ever made. For a die-hard Radiohead fan like myself, their first ...