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Month: December 2018

The Most Magical Time of the Year

It’s that time of year again. The season changes from Autumn to Winter. We begin the journey toward Spring and New Life. It’s also called the most magical time of the year. Do you believe in magic?
I don’t mean the hocus pocus of Penn and Teller.
Nor, do I mean the song by the Lovin’ Spoonful.
I mean Magic.
Something that cannot be empirically explained.
A world where the laws of physics that exist in our world
simply don’t hold anymore.
How about ‘Spirit’? Sentient beings who may, or may not, inhabit the World of Magic.
Let’s tease this out a bit more.
Do you believe that Magic and Spirit can interact with us in THIS world?
Well? Do you?
I think that these ‘Other’ things are, in fact, a reality.
Let me explain…
In order to see these places, a special tool must be used. It’s a tool called “Child-Like Faith.” And, it’s not just for kids! But, children seem to come about it more naturally than we who are older and wiser. Children are naturally aware of a reality that can’t be measured or quantified. They seem to be able to intuit things that we Olders find it necessary to study and explain.
I think that this is something more than mere belief. Olders can “believe” in something if we can find a tangible basis for it. Like a book or something. But, kids don’t need a book to tell them to believe. They can stand in wide-eyed wonder and awe as the white, fuzzy top of a dandelion wafts away on the breeze.
It’s Magical!
They are able to enter into a story and see and smell the forests where fairies dwell and the oceans that contain wonders that no human eye has ever seen.
It’s Magical!
Who are we to say that such a place doesn’t exist? Perhaps, the people who would say that such belief is delusional or ignorant are actually the ones who are delusional and ignorant!
There are stories in every culture that tell of worlds that are inhabited by beings that no biology book has ever described. Things that Darwin did not see in his travels. But, Odysseus did. Many of these stories were told for training and morality. Aesop’s Fables and countless others that carry messages that are used to form our ethical foundations. But, there are many other stories that don’t fall into that category. Stories where magic and spirits are real and the world of the senses are foiled. Could these stories be windows into real worlds that truly exist? Places that inspire Awe and Wonder in children?
Let’s speculate a bit.
Our empirical sciences point to various electro-chemical reactions in our brains as the true source of creativity. With this in mind, we have created ways to exercise and stimulate these reactions. With enough exercise writers, musicians, artists, and others who visualize thoughts into reality can strengthen their craft and ‘Create.’ And, there you have it, Ladies and Gentlemen. Scientifically proven…there’s nothing special about it. And, absolutely nothing magical.
But, what if?
What if there is something within each person that can be attuned to some other reality? Of course, we would think that science would have identified such an organ, or gland, or something by now. Right? They have pretty much mapped the brain. They can see how various stimuli ‘light up’ different parts of the brain. They can measure and quantify the results of these stimuli. Can they identify the source? What if there is no external stimulus? What reveals different worlds to the writer? Where do melodies and harmonies derive their existence? Where in the world did Picasso get his inspiration?
I’m just a guy who imagines things. I have no idea where the science has or hasn’t traveled. But, what if there is something that lies quietly within us? Some latent ability that enables us to ‘see’ other realities where Magic and Spirit dwell?
That would be truly Magical!

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The Nativity – Revisited


Nativity

Here’s the annual repost of my take on Jesus’ birth at Bethlehem. If you have read my blog you know that I do not hold to the whole “Away In A Manger” story. That story really has nothing at all to do with 1st Century Palestinian life. I believe that this story is a better representation of that. Read with an open heart and mind. Perhaps, we may find a greater understanding of who Jesus was and our part in His family.

The caravan moved slowly up toward Jerusalem. It had been a long journey from Galilee through Samaria. We could not travel very fast because of the young, pregnant woman. Most of the caravan stopped in Jerusalem. We, however, had a few more miles to go to get to our ancestral home of Bethlehem.

We entered the town and located the home of Joseph’s cousin. Entering, we greeted those already gathered. “Shalom! Baruch hashem Adonai!” “Peace! Bless the name of the Lord!” Unpacking our donkeys, we noticed that there were a lot of people already present. It seems that the whole clan had answered Caesar’s demand that we return for this census. Joseph helped Mary up to the living quarters while I got fodder for the donkeys. As I turned to climb the stairs I saw Joseph gesturing angrily.

“No guest room?! My wife is going to give birth at any moment! You must make room for her and the child!”

“No, we cannot. There are too many people. We cannot have one room given to her alone.”

“Wait,” one of Joseph’s aunts said. “We can fix a place for her down below. There is plenty of fresh straw. And, we can put blankets down to help make her more comfortable.”

Mary, being young and new to the family looked at Joseph and nodded. She was already suspect, being pregnant already. She did not want to give the family any more reason to look down on her.

Evening came. Mary was having contractions every few minutes. One of the aunts acted as midwife. They made Mary as comfortable as possible.

Joseph was upstairs with the rest of the family. He was pacing the floor. One cousin scolded him, “Sit down and relax! Everything will be fine. This is not the first child ever born!”

But, everyone knew that many first pregnancies did not end well. Especially, when the mother was as young as Mary. In addition, both Joseph and Mary were anxious about the child. That strange man that had appeared nine months ago had said some very strange things about this child. As the birth drew near, the young parents wondered what kind of creature was about to enter their world.

It seemed as though Mary had been laboring for hours. With a final push the child arrived. With a cry, the child took his first breath. The midwife lifted the child and tied off the umbilicus.

“It’s a boy!”

Joseph gave a sigh of relief. The others began to pour bowls of wine and a party celebrating the birth of a first-born son began. They sang and danced and drank. When Mary was cleaned up and the child wrapped in clean cloths, Joseph was summoned to come down. He looked compassionately at Mary. She was so strong and brave…no longer a child. Joseph reached into the feeding trough in which his newborn son had been laid. He picked him up.

“My son, Yeshua!

A little later I looked up and saw a small group of people entering the house. By the staves that they were carrying I could tell that they were shepherds.

“Who let this rabble in?” I thought. Shepherds were not usually welcome among respectable people. They walked over to where the child lay sleeping.

“We were out in the field tending the sheep. Suddenly, there was a great light in the sky! We feared that something was going to take our sheep and harm us! Then, we heard a voice saying that a child had been born…here…in Bethlehem. The voice said that this child is the Messiah who we have been waiting for!”

Another shepherd spoke up saying, “Then there was a great host praising God! They gave God glory and said that peace was to reign between God and those whom God favors!”

We poured bowls of wine for the shepherds and continued to celebrate throughout the night.

However, Mary had a puzzled look on her face. She said nothing!

May God Bless you all and Merry Christmas

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The Eyes Have It

They say that the eyes are the window of the Soul.

Not so much that they allow light to enter,

But, they allow the light within to radiate outward.

People may change the color and style of their hair or the shape of their nose.

Grimace and pout; Giggle and laugh.

Fold arms and raise angry fists.

Dance a jig or march a dirge.

The eyes, though, are truthful.

Nothing is hid from one who knows how to see.

Open your eyes! And, I will see your soul’s light reflected in my heart!

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Wednesday Musings

Yesterday was interesting. And, not because anything out of the ordinary happened.
I had lunch with the Rector of the church I’ve attended since September.
But, before I left to meet Fr. Alex, I watched “Ghosts of Christmas Eve” with
The Trans Siberian Orchestra. I really like TSO. Being a musician I appreciate
what the arrangers did. Especially, since I cut my musical teeth on Prog Rock from
the early 70s, the mash-up of classically inspired shredding guitars is a favorite.
So, when the first scene opened I found it strange that my emotions began to surface.
In fact, until late in the program it took a concerted effort to not sit there and bawl like
a baby. Now, I’ve had music affect me emotionally before. Certain passages and sequences
of notes charge me up. Chills and constricted arrector pili muscles appear on my arms.
Yesterday was different, though. And, honestly, I have no clue why. The script and acting
in the program were mediocre at best. Contrived and frivolous at worst. Was it simply
the music? I don’t think so. The wave of emotion began well before the music really took off.
Maybe, it was the idea of the young runaway spending Christmas Eve in a run down old
theater. The old story goes that no one should be alone on Christmas. As I write this, I’m
still not sure what the deal was.
But, I’m kinda glad for it. It proves, once again, that I am not Mr. Spock. I do have emotions
that surface and cause me to reflect. And, in spite of everything, I am connected to other
people and the World at large in ways that are not always predictable.
Maybe, that’s a good thing.

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Jesus Wept

Today, as I sat quietly, I remembered how I felt Sunday morning.
Emotions rose within me as I considered the injustice of the “ruling class.”
I held back tears as my I saw those who live privileged lives ignoring the pleas of
those that they consider “Other.” Especially, those who profess to have faith in God through Jesus Christ.

How can they just stand there and do nothing? Less than nothing!

They are complicit in moral crimes against their fellow travelers on this Third Rock from the Sun!

This morning I reflected on that a bit. I realized that my emotions, my tears were
not directed toward those who are the victims of injustice. They weren’t poured out
for the poor and the needy.

No.

My emotion was kindled by those who instigate the injustice. My tears shed because
of their unbelief and unfaithfulness.
How can people stand by and actually feel that they are justified in their injustice?
It’s truly quite easy. As long as I can feel good about ‘Me’ and ‘My’ accomplishments;
‘My faithfulness’ and ‘My exceptionalism,’ I can separate myself from those “Others” who
don’t quite match up to ‘Me.’

I’m reminded of a story in Brennan Manning’sbook, “Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s
Path to God.” 

A couple was visiting New Orleans. As they walked around the French Quarter,
a woman, smiling, approached them and said that she could tell immediately that they were “saved.”
She continued, “Isn’t it wonderful? Don’t you just fell the Rapture is coming?” For the next several
Minutes the woman talked to them about growing tension in the Middle East that would
lead to the end of the world. At that time the ‘elect’ would be whisked away to heavenly
glory forever and ever.
Of course, this presupposes that there will by “Others” who will not be so fortunate.
How is it that this woman was apparently quite giddy about leaving most of humanity
behind while she and her like-minded friends would escape into the “Sweet By and By”?
And, I weep over her hardness of heart. Her uncaring attitude toward anyone and everyone
who doesn’t think and believe as she does.

Then, a couple other stories came to my mind.

In one, Jesus is standing on a hill looking over the city of Jerusalem.
His heart, breaking with overwhelming emotion he said,
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were unwilling.
“Behold, your house is being left to you desolate!
“For I say to you, from now on you will not see Me until you say, ‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!’

His lament was not for the victims of injustice. He shed no tears for the murdered prophets and those who were stoned to death.

No. His sorrow was directed at those who perpetrated the injustice…the murderers.

In another story, Jesus went to a village called Bethany. A few days earlier he had been informed that one of his dear friends was very ill. By the time he reached the village, his friend had died.
The text indicates that Jesus was aware of the condition of his friend, Lazarus. He was even aware that the man had died. When Jesus reached the village, Lazarus’ sisters came to him and said,
If only You had been here, Lazarus would still be alive.
Jesus looked and saw all of the mourners who had come to console the sisters over their loss.
Now, what’s interesting, is the writer made it very clear that Jesus knew what he was going to do. Jesus had even told his followers on the way that Lazarus had died. He told them that he was glad that he had not been there to heal Lazarus. It was better for them, “So that you may believe.”
Even with this foreknowledge, the text states that when Jesus saw the mourners, when he listened to the sisters as they knelt tearfully before him, the writer recorded these words…

“Jesus was troubled.”

The language that was used indicates that Jesus was “agitated; in great distress.” That his emotions were “stirred up.” This was followed by the shortest verse in the entire Bible,

“Jesus wept.”

The only record of Jesus shedding tears.

“Jesus wept.”

But, why? The mourners all thought it was because of Jesus’ great love for Lazarus. They thought that, like them, Jesus was moved with sorrow for the loss of his friend. For the loss of a brother.
That doesn’t make sense to me. Jesus knew what had happened and what he was going to do.
Why did he weep?
I think it was because of the unbelief of those gathered. Jesus had performed many miracles in and around Jerusalem. Many of these people were witnesses. For sure, the sisters were. Yet, they still did not believe.
They did not have faith.

“Jesus wept.”

The only two times where it was recorded that Jesus wept or lamented there were people who lacked lacked faith or who were faithless.
He did not lament the prophets.
He did not weep for Lazarus.
So, I weep. Not for those trying to escape death by journeying a thousand miles to seek refuge at our border.
Nor, do I weep for the millions of people who may find their health care plans eliminated.
I don’t shed tears for those trapped in addictions or who struggle with the fact that their own brain is their worst enemy.
My tears…my lament…are offered for those in power, for those who aren’t trapped in systems that dehumanize and degrade them. 
I weep for those who can make a difference.
Yet, choose not to.

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Take, Eat. This is My Body.

Today, I want to ask a favor. These posts are no longer shared by me on social media. If you would, could you select one of the ‘Share’ buttons and share this on your social media account? Also, select ‘Subscribe’ so that you will receive E-mail notifications when new posts are posted. Thank you!

“Star Wars – A New Hope.”
Remember that?
It was called Part IV.
Part 4? We didn’t have Part 3, yet!
(Or, parts 1 & 2).
Interesting place to start a story. Right in the middle.
But, I digress.
I do want to touch on the idea of a “New Hope,” though.

In recent posts I was pretty hard on most organized religion. Especially, Evangelicalism. That’s where I came from, so I’m most  familiar with it. But, I don’t want to leave everything up in the air. There must be a better way to live and express the Faith that has been passed on from the beginning.

Many, (most?), have tried to box faith up in some kind of systematic way. People pore over the ancient texts trying to find common thoughts and ideas. They look for patterns of behavior in the characters who live within the pages. They try to separate the “Do’s” from the “Don’t’s.” Then, they package it up nicely and place a bow on top. This System is then presented to the faithful as the True way to Truly live Truthfully. What this ‘truly’does is enable people to do something, then pat themselves on the back for having done…it…whatever ‘It’ is.

I think that this process skews the truth rather than revealing it. It distills the Truth into bite-sized bits that people can munch on. But, in truth, it dilutes the Truth rendering it pretty much useless.

I share all of that so that maybe I can offer an alternative.

DISCLAIMER:
I really don’t know anything. I just want to toss this out there for consideration.

Ok, back to the alternative.

A couple of weeks back I wrote a kind of self-portrait in my journal how I felt that I had become hard. Descriptors like ‘granite’and ‘ice’ came to mind. I reflected on how I had built walls to keep people out. The walls had parapets from which I could cast down rocks and burning oil  to keep folks away. After all, weren’t they all foreigners? Invaders? Enemies  who desired to suck my life from me. Then…

“Take, eat. This is my body broken for you.”

“Take, drink. This is my blood poured out for you.”

WHAT?!

What kind of nonsense is that? That’s what Jesus said before He was crucified! What does that have to do with me?

I sat on that. Reflected on that. Chewed on that like a cow chews on cud.

I began to realize that as a person called to follow Jesus, I shouldn’t be surprised by the thought of self-giving. After all, isn’t that what God did?

“Take, eat.”

But, God?

“Take, drink.”

Really?

As Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem for the last time, he took the Twelve aside to tell them for the third and final time what was going to happen. He said to them, “We are going up to Jerusalem.” Previously, Jesus had only told them that “He” was going to Jerusalem. Now, he said, “We.”

We are going to Jerusalem where I will be mocked and whipped and crucified.”

The story continues and Jesus promises two of his disciples that they, too, will share the cup that he was about to drink.

Where am I going with this?

The Church has created a place where people can feel good about themselves. We are glad to be a part of the ‘chosen few.’ We look forward to living forever, resurrected to new life. Yet, we forget that we have been asked to walk with Jesus to the bitter end.

“Take, eat. This is my body broken for you.”

Not just Jesus’ offering. It must be mine as well.

“Take, drink. This is my blood poured out for you.”

Jesus blood gives life. So, then, should mine.

This is the better way. This is not a ‘System’ that people can follow and feel good about themselves. There is certainly no “Us” or “Them” here. This is how granite is crushed and ice melted.

This is Truly the way to Life.

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Sunday Morning Lament

As I sat in silence this morning I saw an image of the president of the U.S.
standing in the rain praising a ruling by a judge in Texas that states that the
Affordable Care Act, the so-called “Obama Care,” is unconstitutional.
My mind showed me the many people, conservatives, who have spent the
last several years trying undo this simple act to help people who desperately need
the help. I asked Why? Why do these people work so hard in order to hurt others?
As my thoughts took wing, I looked down on the people lined up at our borders.
Why are the institutions that we have created trying so hard to hurt others?
I saw the poor in other countries with no clean water or consistent food source.
Why are those governments not helping their own people? They only heap up riches
and power for themselves.
I considered the so-called religious of our culture. What are they doing? After all, aren’t
they all followers of Jesus?
Who was this Jesus? “Behold, the Kingdom of God is near!” he said.
Yeah?
Where?
Because, I’m not seein’ it.
I’m not seein’ it at all.

“How long, O Lord?”
People have said this simple prayer for thousands of years.

“How long, O Lord?”
Will You wait?
Will You allow injustice?
Until You uphold the widow? The orphan? The stranger?

“How long, O Lord?”
Our governments are corrupt. Our leaders care only about their own power and prestige.
They abuse those that they have been called on to serve.

“How long, O Lord?”
The institutions that are established suffer from rot. They care only about surviving.
They care not a whit for those that put their trust in them.

“How long, O Lord?”
The systems that prevail over all things are altogether corrupt.
Racism, sexism, corporations…all tools of the powerful against Everyone Else.

“How long, O Lord?”
Atheists trust in knowledge and humanity’s ability to grow. They trust in the wind.
Progressive Christians trust in humanity’s ability to usher in the Kingdom of God.
How many centuries ago was this proven to be folly?
Evangelicals. Well, they are just dangerous. They hide behind their faux faith and
Like the Pharisees of old, “do not enter the Kingdom and prevent others from doing so.
Rome is altogether corrupt. Self-seeking old men who crave honor, prestige, and power.
Yet, they have castrated themselves and are now impotent.
Orthodox seek God in Spirit and Truth. Yet, they do nothing for anyone outside of their
own cloisters and cathedrals.

“How long, O Lord?”
Martin hoped that the arc of history would bend toward justice.
I don’t see it.

“How long, O Lord?”

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Musing on a Saturday Morning

This past week was hard. I wrote and posted some pretty harsh words. The topics engender my ire and stoke my passion. Injustice and hatred have always been triggers for me.
The issues that I wrote about are absolutely links in chains that bind many, many people. I would love to see those links broken, lying on the ground in pieces. So, I write about them hoping that my words may enlighten and encourage others who struggle, as I have.
There are other links and other chains, though, that are just as binding. These are ones that bind us to a particular path in life. They hold us fast to iron fixtures that are fastened to the cold, stone of dungeon prisons.
We all have them.
They are made up of the expectations that we, and others, have piled on us over the years. The lost or missed opportunities to pursue our dreams are the bolts that secure the chain. Words that may have been meant to guide, yet became the shackles that have held us fast, unable to move.
When I was young I remember wanting to make things that people liked. I drew pictures. I made up songs and dances. I was a kid! And, kids do these things as expressions of what they are learning. We all wanted our productions, our ‘art,’ to be accepted. How many of us who drew a picture that our mom or dad just gushed praise on said, “Here! Wait! I’ll do another one!” Then we ran off to our paper and crayons and instantly produced another masterpiece. Just walk into any American home today where young children live and take a look at the refrigerator. Most will have all kinds of magnets that secure the work of a budding Renoir or, maybe better, a young Picasso.
“Here! Look what I made!”
We grow older, but the desire to create things that please oneself and others is still there. We just choose other ways of expressing that creativity. For me, it was music. I was blessed, (cursed?), to grow up when rock was young. Bands like The Beatles and Jan & Dean were popping up all over. Folk music was at the pinnacle of its popularity. I remember standing in our living room with The New Christy Minstrels playing “Green, Green” on our mono record player while holding a tennis racket like a guitar. Yep! The beginnings of air guitar right there. My parents thought that I might like learning how to play the real thing. So, at 9 years old, I was presented with my first instrument. I don’t remember the brand. I just remember that it was a big old acoustic with a warped neck. I couldn’t even press the string to the fretboard past the third fret. But, it was mine! My dad signed me up for lessons at a local music store. “Gardner’s Academy of Music.” My teacher was the owner. King Gardner. He was an older guy, thinning hair and a mustache. After taking lessons for a while it became apparent that the instrument I had was woefully inadequate. So, my dad parted with $80 to buy me a red sunburst Harmony Rocket. Wow! My first electric guitar! King also sold us the small Danelectro amp that we used in his studio. I was set. Watch out world! Here I come!
I joined my first band when I was 12. We knew, I don’t know, about 8 songs. But, that was enough to play parties and some dances. And, if nothing else, we were loud! I continued to play and learn. At one point I spent about 8 hours everyday practicing. I walked around thinking guitar and playing air guitar. My dad used to chide me, “What? Are you afflicted? One hand waving in the air and the other scratching your navel.”
Soon, though, reality began to set in. At least for those people who knew better. My parents began to press me toward learning something that I could actually make a “real” living at. Aunts and Uncles soon joined that chorus. I had to listen. They were older and wiser that I was.
“You can have it as a hobby, of course. But, you’ll never make a living doing that.”
Ok. I kept playing in small bands on weekends. It was fun, I guess. But, the joy of discovery and forging a new path in the Unknown was gone. What had once been a fiery passion had now been tamed. As B. B. King once sang, “The Thrill is Gone.” Of course, his song was about a relationship between two people. It was still fitting for me, though.
A link was forged.
The chain made longer…heavier.
I share this because I think that we all have similar experiences. We find something that fires our passions. We find joy, love, acceptance, and accomplishment. Then, someone comes along and says, “Well, that’s real nice and all. But, it’s not real.” Or, “That thing will never fly, Orville.” Over years we listen to these voices. Many times, perhaps most, it’s our own voice telling us these things. We become so conditioned to what’s right or acceptable that we learn that language and speak it to ourselves.
I don’t know. I’m just rambling. Maybe, it’s the time of year. Maybe, it’s the time of life.
They say we can never go back. And, they’re right.
But, maybe we can start something new.
Maybe there’s still hope for that child who was so full of wonder and delight to poke an impish face around that corner and say,

  “SURPRISE!”

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There is Hope

Ok, I’ve been a bit hard on Evangelicalism recently. And, with good reason. The theology that this particular brand of Christianity preaches is toxic. Like I wrote yesterday, Evangelical theology is rotten. The whole root is rotten. It needs to be yanked out of the ground and burned on the garbage heap.

That being said, I really need my readers who are Evangelical to know that I don’t begrudge them their faith. I wrote yesterday that these folks really desire to follow Jesus faithfully. But, I don’t believe that they are being given that chance. They are locked into a system that cannot accept any kind of question or dissent. For Evangelicalism to survive it must enforce a “my way or the highway” mentality.

It’s very clear that many religions deal in binaries. That is, everything is either right or wrong; black or white; good or bad. That’s the primary way in which they determine who is in and who is out. (Another binary.) Perhaps more importantly, these binaries assure ME that I am right. Evangelicalism provides this kind of hope to its adherents. By making a “decision” to “commit my life to Jesus” and be “born again,” I place myself on the “right” side rather than the “wrong” one.

And, this produces a real feeling of security for a person. It allows them to see themselves as part of a large family.

It also places them within a theocratic bubble.

A line is drawn that separates my new family from everyone who is NOT a member of that family.

This is problematic. Mostly because, unlike Paul Simon’s wish to be a Rock or an Island, humans are not isolated like that. We are all members of humanity first and foremost. That, my friends, isn’t wishful thinking. It’s an empirical fact. So, even if Evangelicalism provides a mechanism to divide Us from Them, this is at best a false dichotomy. People become lulled into thinking that all the stuff that those people “out there” are part of or produce is somehow tainted. “We can’t be a part of that!”they say. Or, “Those products are part of that world. We can’t use them! Let’s make our own!”

Walls go up. Divisions become set in stone. Dislike and disdain grow steadily until their natural fruit, “Hatred,” is ripe.

I hope that you can see where I’m going with this. Evangelicals are all good, well-meaning people. But, they have been duped into believing a false narrative that positions them in opposition to EVERYTHING ELSE!

This is not the Way of Christ. Never has been; Never will be.

The Way of Christ is one where the playing field is level. There is not male or female; slave or free; black or white; gay or straight; us or them. There isn’t. There just isn’t.

It’s wrong whenever people build walls to keep the ‘Other’ out.

It’s especially egregious when they use God as the mortar to build those walls.

That is exactly what Evangelicalism does. It is Evangelicalism’s only raison d’être.  It’s sole purpose to exist. From the beginning this theology was designed to separate people. It is past time to put a stake in it and move on to a better Way.

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Desiderius Erasmus

When I was in seminary at Ashland Theological Seminary working toward an M. Div., I wrote a paper for Church History on Erasmus. Before then, I had never heard of the man. But, at that time there were a lot of things I didn’t know. (That’s not to say that I know much of anything now.) 

For me, Erasmus became a hero of sorts. He was the first person at the time to show the importance of studying the original Greek texts of the Scripture. He was a true ‘Humanist’ at that time. That word meant something much different than it does today. In the 16th century, a humanist was a person who sought to get back to roots. So, for Erasmus, that meant a return to the teachings of the Church Fathers and original texts.

I remember sitting in a church service and the person who was speaking bad-rapped Erasmus. He was an ignorant twit who had never met Erasmus. But, I digress. Enjoy this post be Brian Zahnd and,

Meet my friend, Desiderius Erasmus!

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