Book Review: Tragedy to Truth: A Story of faith and Transformation by Casey Cease

I met Casey Cease while we were both making our way through seminary. Our paths crossed from time to time as we shared a couple of classes together, but we didn't know each other very well past the superficial acquaintance. Other than the occasional greeting in the hallways while waiting for classes to begin, I don't think we shared more than a few words during those four years at Southwestern. This often happens as we journey through life. Our fast-paced culture drives us in different directions, with our field of vision focused directly in front of us. People pass on the left and right, quietly in our blind spots as we push the speed limit, hoping to "get there" without being bothered. Unfortunately, and much to our disadvantage, we often realize that we’ve missed scenery along the way that would have blessed our souls and made the journey all the more brighter. Casey was that scenery that I missed on my journey, and now knowing more of his story though his book Tragedy to Truth, I wish that I would have slowed down just a bit and glanced through my side windows.

Casey and I are also both writers who have been able to incorporate writing into our ministries. One of the most important elements of good writing is the ability to tell a story. In fact, I would go so far as to say that this is the most important aspect of communicating through the written word. Casey has the ability to tell a story, and reveals that fact very clearly in Tragedy to Truth. As I began to read the first few pages, I was given the opportunity to be an observer and was transported into a story of which I felt I was part.

Casey and I have also both battled anxiety through much of our lives. As the book begins, I read of a sensitive boy that is dealing with childhood anxiety and I share his fear. Through his vivid description of his early years of life, I remembered with sadness similar scenarios in my own life. As we walked together in the story through junior high, I began to get to know Casey. I remembered the similar experiences of awkwardness during these years of life and the struggles that most of us face in trying to fit in while developing an identity of our own. As Casey shared his first encounters with the opposite sex, I remembered that familiar feeling of indescribable joy in the pit of my stomach, and felt the pain that assuredly always accompanies it. Junior high is a tough time for many kids, and Casey does an incredible job of painting that picture with vivid imagery. He takes you back in time, puts his arm around you and confesses, “I was just like you.” You feel it. You hear it. You smell it. You’re there. 

Things inevitably change in high school, and Casey paints a picture of striking and contrasting ups and downs that make his story unique. I felt as if I was more of an observer at this point of his journey, but none the less felt captivated by the story. It becomes obvious that the path of his journey is becoming darker and I began to read with nervous anticipation of what was to come. Bad decisions, creating false personas, feelings of isolation and self-destruction become elements of Casey's story. The warning signs begin to appear in on the road. Yield. Proceed With Caution. Rough Road. Reduce Speed Now. Road Narrows. And although I could not relate to all of the particulars of his journey, I could feel the intense pain. I shared the fear, anger and frustration and was saddened by the turn of events that culminate in the "Tragedy" of this story.

Death has a feel to it when encountered face to face. I could feel death as I began to read of the life changing event that is the pivot upon which this story turns. The eerie cloud of unexpected death covered me as Casey shares this dark part of his life. Feeling as though I was standing at the scene of the accident, I could smell the gasoline, oil and engine fluids mixed with blood that must have been pouring on the street. I could feel the chill in the air as well as the chill upon Casey's soul as he became conscious of what had happened. I could hear the screams and panic in voices as others reacted to their surroundings. I could hear the distant whine of police cars and emergency vehicles and felt the fear that must have overwhelmed him at the exact moment that reality joined the unconscious. I felt as if I were the one sitting in a crashed vehicle, covered in glass and blood. I imagined the feeling of not knowing exactly what had happened, but knowing something tragic had occurred and that life as Casey knew it was about to be drastically altered. Casey's life was altered forever, and this is this is the point when truth begins to be ushered into his life.       

                               

Casey earns the right to share his faith with you. By building trust in sharing his story, the reader senses that trust has been built and I found myself eagerly wanting to hear him out. I will admit that even though I work in ministry as well, I’m not a big fan of traditional evangelism. The “in your face” techniques never worked with me before I found Christ, and they don’t appeal to me now. I believe in building relationships and sharing my faith through my life, actions and love. From all practical perspectives, I could have tuned out during the second half of Casey’s book. But there is one element that kept me reading, engaged and connected with his story: Love.

As Casey shares the details of how he found Christ, you sense nothing but love for the reader; not just “readers” in general, but “reader”, because he's talking to you. As I read of Casey’s faith, I felt as we were sitting at a table in Starbucks. He clearly reveals how his story is intractably connected to his faith in Christ and this kept me listening and wanting to know more. I found myself wanting to continue reading because I felt that Casey cared about me.  If I were not a follower of Jesus Christ, I may not be convinced, but I would have quite a bit of thinking to do about Christianity. I would dig deeper. I would read more. And had I not already been conversing with the God of the universe, I would definitely consider initiating a conversation. 

As Casey shares his faith in Christ, I imagined the Apostle Paul, standing on Mars Hill while debating with the Epicureans and Stoics in ancient Greece. As he pleads his case with love and compassion, revealing the identity of the UNKNOWN GOD, the philosophers of the day listen with interest, fascination and anticipation of a new possible truth being revealed. In Acts 17:22-31, the words pour from Paul’s heart because the truths that he speaks of are intertwined with the truths of his own life. The facts are presented, his heart is poured out, his case is made. And as he ties everything together in the truth of the Resurrection, some walked away unconvinced, but some opened the door for further discussion: “We shall hear you again concerning this.” 

In reading Tragedy to Truth, some may walk away unconvinced. But many will close its pages, reflect on Casey’s story and resolve in their hearts, “I will hear you again concerning this.” Casey will be there; the pastor as well as the accomplished writer.           

Best Day Ever

Yesterday was a good day.  In fact, it just might have been the best day ever.  That is, unless you were to consider today, which consequently was the best day ever.  And if we happen to meet somewhere tomorrow, I will declare with certainty, "Today is the best day ever!"  Let me explain.  In order to keep two nine year old boys occupied for the afternoon, and also keep my sanity, I decided to take my youngest son Lucas, and his best buddy Braden, to Putt Putt Fun House; our local Arcade/Miniature Golf/Laser Tag/Bumper Boats/Bowling/Pizza Eating/Rock Climbing/Over-Stimulating/Sugar High Inducing....well....Fun House. It originally only offered miniature golf, back in the 80s; hence the name Putt Putt Fun House. They had go carts at one time, and it was a great place for dates in high school, but I digress.

Putt Putt is the only place in town where you can spend $10 worth of game tokens in order to proudly redeem your winnings for $1 worth of prizes and feel like a champion and millionaire, all at the same time. Yesterday was no exception. Since I only allocated them a few bucks each, both boys decided early on that it would be more efficient to combine their prize tickets in order to redeem a higher quantity and quality junk, and since they are practically inseparable these days, I agreed that it would be a safe transaction. After about 20 minutes of Las Vegas style junior gambling, they made their way to the ticket calculating machine to see how much Lady Luck had graciously bestowed upon them. Their excitement increased as they fed stacks of orange tickets into the hungry mechanical cage cashier. When they began to realize that they were going to end up with an excess of well over 2000 tickets, they high-fived each other, agreeing that sharing in the glory was much better than individual acclaim. So far, it was a pretty good day!

 As the ticket feeder produced a grand total of 2289 points with much pomp and circumstance, Lucas suddenly declared, "This is the best day of my life!" The best day of his life? Really? Have I done so badly a job as a dad that this is his best day so far? I mean, we just got back from a week long vacation, two days of which were spent at one of the biggest water parks in the country, and this is your best day? Are my son's expectations of life really that low? What will his worst day look like? Do I suck as a dad? "This is the best day of my life!" Wow! "Lucas, my son. I love you! But you really need to get a life! Please! Before you get too old and the best day of your life ends up being......"
There I was, watching my son have the best day of his life, when as always, when I let my guard down,   some deep theological truths hit me between the eyes through the simplicity of life. As always, I realize that the complexity of life does not always make us more efficient, more profitable, better or happier for that matter. When you get right down to it, contentment in life comes in the brief moments when we simply breath in and out and realize that this is all we have, all we need.  In reality, this was the best day. Through the eyes of my son, I was transported into a radically different view of life, and it was the best day of our lives. Right there. Right then. Why? Because it was the only day we had access too, right at that very moment. How could it not be the best day?

This is how kids look at life; from day to day, hour to hour, second to second. Their minds don't jump ahead at how things could be better, because they usually see what is before them as the best. They don't lament and ponder why yesterday wasn't as good, because yesterday was the best up until now. And if it wasn't the best, they've already moved on because that's just how their minds work. They see life at it's best and I think this is exactly what Jesus was getting at when He said, "I'm telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you're not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in. Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God's kingdom. What's more, when you receive the childlike on my account, it's the same as receiving me." (Matthew 18:3-4 MSG)  According to Jesus, the best is the Kingdom of God. Kids see the best. They see the Kingdom, and through their eyes exists a doorway to God's Kingdom that comes to as close to fruition as we can get. The Kingdom of God is here. It's the best day ever.

Living in the moment is not an easy concept for us to grasp, especially as we grow older.  Our lives continue to accelerate as we tirelessly strive to find the best.  Tomorrow will always be better than today, and today does not ever seem to be quite as good as yesterday.  How often do we contently rest in the realization that the best is here and now, realizing that the moment is literally all we have.  As much as we would like to, we can't exist one second in the past or one second into the future.  We exist moment by moment.  Why are those moments not considered to be the best, regardless of circumstances?

As I reflect on the simplicity of my son's words yesterday, I'm reminded that God expects no more from us than this.  After all, He taught us to pray for our "daily bread".  Not complain about the dry bread from yesterday, or anxiously fret because we may not have bread tomorrow.  And as He stands by, watching us count up our winning tickets and redeeming them for junk, I think He simply longs to hear us declare, "This is the best day of my life!". 

A Center Stage Theologian, and a Fool.

I recently wrote an article on my children's ministry blog, The Emerging Child, about the importance of praying with the children in your life.  As usually is the case, after meditating on the topic for a while, I found that there was an underlying reason that I wrote what came to mind.  Thinking that I was primarily sharing my thoughts for other parents, pastors and teachers, I quickly found that the proverbial finger was being pointed at me.  I saw myself on center stage, called "bullshit" on myself and didn't like what I saw.       

Its funny how our thoughts don't always follow our actions.  We develop great ideas in our minds and can even implement them from an outside perspective, but when it comes to internally carrying out what our minds eye sees, we often fall short.  I wonder why this is.  Why is it so difficult to carry out what we believe and follow through what we hold as true?  I assume it's just part of our fallen nature and that we can be pretty screwed up creatures.  Paul was familiar with this all too well when he wrote, "For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.  Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it."  (Romans 7:19-20)


We live in a state of constant duality between knowledge and implementation.  In an increasingly relative culture, living what we actually believe becomes more and more difficult.  The tension increases and our strength fails, and this is where the real test comes into play.  Do we really believe what we say and do?  Are the thoughts that run through our minds really issues that we will carry out to the forefront of life, or are they words that fall on deaf ears?  Do we have deaf ears as well?  

Back to my children's blog topic and the idea of praying with kids.  After spending a good deal of time thinking about this, I came to a very sobering conclusion.  If I pray with my boys, or any other kids in my life for that matter, I better be damn sure that I mean what I say and say what I mean.  I better know without a shadow of a doubt that my words are being directed to a holy God, and not just being recited to impress those that listen.  Because guess what?  Kids are natural bullshit detectors.  They can sense insincerity a mile away and know when something isn't real.

Pray with the children in your life.  Don't preform for them.  Or you'll find yourself alone on center stage.

Mike

Those of you that know me, know that I can be a rather melancholy person.  Because of that, I've always been somewhat obsessed with death.  It's always caused an inner conflict within me and I'll admit, some fear as well.  I've read verses like 1 Corinthians 15:54-58 and meditate on the words "O DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR VICTORY? O DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR STING?” and thought to myself, "Really?"  I don't know about you, but I've felt the full sting of death many times.  There is an uncertainty with death, and  regardless of the depth of my faith, there are times when I think and wonder at the mystery of my existence.  If you say that you are 100% sure of what will happen to you when you die, you're lying, or you have some spiritual insight that I've not yet grasped.  Because regardless of how strong our faith in God might be, there will always be a hint of doubt.  That's part of what faith is about.    

My friend Mike died just over 13 years ago.  I'm not sure why I'm thinking about him today.  Maybe it's because my mind is wandering from excessive writer's block.  Maybe it's because Summer is coming to an end, kids are going back to school and change is in the air.  Maybe it's just because I'm feeling a bit nostalgic and yes, melancholy this afternoon.  Or maybe it's because I just read a blog posted by a friend of mine about loosing one of his best friends this week and the grief he is now experiencing.  Nah, that can't be it.

Mike died on the Monday after Labor Day in 1997.  He came to my house on Sunday for lunch, bringing with him his beautiful little daughter, Jordan who was only 1 year old at the time; the same age as my oldest son, Ian.  We cooked hot dogs for lunch, drank a few beers, ate Popsicles and filled up a little baby pool for the kids, and our feet.  It was a good day.

Mike was having a rough time with life, as well as his marriage, so we talked a lot.  He shared a lot of his struggles with me.  I listened.  It felt good to listen.  It felt good to talk.  When he left that afternoon, I walked with him out to his car.  After getting Jordan situated in her car seat, he looked me right in the eyes and thanked me for inviting him over.  I could tell that it meant a lot to him.  You could see it in his eyes.  Just before he drove off he rolled the window down and said, "Hey, let's going fishing tomorrow since we have the day off."  I thought about it, hesitated a few seconds and then declined the invitation.  I would have loved to have gone fishing.  We were fishing a lot back then and I was always looking for an excuse to go.  But for some reason, I felt the need to spend more time at home and with my family.  I had no idea how much more was going on by turning down his offer.

The next day was Labor Day.  Mike went fishing anyway, with another friend named Tommy.  I didn't know Tommy very well, but we had all fished together a few times.  I felt a little jealous that I wasn't the one who went.  It should have be me with him.  That morning I felt a twinge of regret, thinking how nice it would have been to be in the water, hooking a few speckled trout.  But the day went on.  We sat around the house and did as little "labor" as we could.  We watched TV and played around on the computer.  All in all, it was a pretty boring day, but it was good to spend time with my wife and son.  It was good to rest.   

Just after we finished lunch, I was sitting at my desk on the computer when the phone rang.  It was Mike's wife, Kim.  She said my name, paused and her voice began crackling.  I could hear her crying and my heart began to race, feeling that sinking feeling deep in my soul.  You know that feeling?  The feeling you get just before something bad happens?  That feeling that you are right on the border of a tragedy?  As soon as you step over the line of acknowledgement, everything in your immediate world is going to change, and you feel it.  You sense it.  Here we go.  Stepping over the line.  

My first thought was that Mike had left Kim.  Not too long before, Mike had run off to Florida to escape marriage problems and the stresses of life that were troubling him.  I imagined that he had again decided to temporarily escape, and Kim was naturally upset, and was calling in hoes that I would help her track him down.  That's what I was thinking.  I wish that had been the case.  Something so simple could have been solved.  Something so simple could have been worked through.  I would have been glad to have driven out to Florida to find him.  I would give anything to have the memory of finding him fishing or sitting in some beach bar drinking a beer.  I would have convinced him to come home.  He always listened to me.  We would laugh about it today.

That's not how things worked out.  After the phone fell to the ground, I remember hearing someone picking it back up.  I heard a voice that I didn't recognize.  "Jake, this is Kim's aunt.  Kim was calling you to tell you that Mike was killed this morning.  I'm so sorry."  I stepped over the line.  Everything changed.  My reality changed.  Everything looked different.  Everything sounded different.  It was as if I stepped into another dimension.  The sting of death.

"What?  What?  What?"  That's all I remember saying.  I looked around the room, back and forth in quick movements of panic.  She hung up the phone.  My wife Kelly was sitting on the bed across the room.  She knew that it was one of those phone calls.  It was one of those lines crossed in life that you can't cross back again.  She was crying.

Through tears she muttered, "What?  What happened, Jake?  Is it Mike?  Is he dead?"  I nodded my head and began weeping uncontrollably.  It was the kind of weeping that comes from deep inside your soul and you have no control over it.  My head fell into my hands and my shoulders began heaving up and down.  This was one of the rare times in my life that I've felt the full force of mourning.  I understand grief and the powerful clutch of it.  The cold embrace of death surrounded me and I felt empty.  I walked outside and on to my driveway, staring up at the sky.  What had just happened?  Why wasn't I there with him?  Why didn't I go?  Could I have saved him?  Would I have died as well?  Why, God?  Why?        

Mike was struck by lightning from a small isolated thunderstorm that popped up late that morning.  I remember seeing it pass just to the West of my house, thinking how strange it was. There was no chance of rain that day.  Mike had left Tommy and the boat at the shore, while he ran across the beach to get his truck.  Tommy didn't even know what had happened until the ambulance showed up.  He was killed instantly.  The thoughts ran though my head once again: It should have been me with him that morning.  Maybe I could have done something.  Maybe I could have stopped him.  Maybe my obsessive compulsive tendencies would have kicked in and I would have insisted on him waiting for the storm to pass.  Why wasn't I there?   

About a year before Mike's death, he became a follower of Christ.  Not many people know that.  I had been a Christian for a few years before him and he had always thought I had fallen off the deep end.  But we were close friends so he eventually began  to ask me questions about what I believed.  He didn't talk about his faith that much with others, but we had many conversations about spirituality and God.  One evening in particular, when Mike was having an especially rough time in his marriage, he called me.  "I don't get it!  I became a Christian just like you encouraged me to do, but my life still sucks!  Why?"

I didn't have an answer for him.  I agreed with him that life did suck from time to time.  I shared with him that I often felt the same way and even questioned my faith occasionally.  I also shared with him the good things God had done in my life.  Mostly I just listened.  I listened to the pain in his voice and tried to feel it with him.  I told him that I understood and he wasn't alone in his struggles.  I never judged him and I never questioned his faith.  I guess that I just tried to be who Christ would have been for him, if He was sitting with him that moment; the same Christ that sat with me when Mike died.  The same Christ that works through me when others grieve a loss and feel the sting of death.  And the same Christ that reminded me of Mike this afternoon, and reminded me that I'll see him again.  The sting of death is gone, life still sucks sometime and I still miss my friend.  See you soon, my friend. 

Here

In Eugene Peterson's The Message, he paraphrases Ecclesiastes 3:13 like this:
'There's an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth: A right time for birth and another for death, A right time to plant and another to reap, A right time to kill and another to heal, A right time to destroy and another to construct, A right time to cry and another to laugh, A right time to lament and another to cheer, A right time to make love and another to abstain, A right time to embrace and another to part, A right time to search and another to count your losses, A right time to hold on and another to let go, A right time to rip out and another to mend, A right time to shut up and another to speak up, A right time to love and another to hate, A right time to wage war and another to make peace. But in the end, does it really make a difference what anyone does? I've had a good look at what God has given us to do—busywork, mostly. True, God made everything beautiful in itself and in its time—but he's left us in the dark, so we can never know what God is up to, whether he's coming or going. I've decided that there's nothing better to do than go ahead and have a good time and get the most we can out of life. That's it—eat, drink, and make the most of your job. It's God's gift."

I read these words in a new way this morning. I've been sitting in the library, trying to continue writing my book, which I began this Summer. It's not as easy as I thought it was going to be. At times, it can be isolating. Sometimes it's difficult to focus. Sometimes I feel compelled to delete every file that I've collected so far and start over. Sometimes, I wonder why I'm doing this at all. I wonder if I'll ever finish. I wonder if this is wasted time. I wonder if anyone will read it. But the words in this passage of scripture spoke to me this morning and gave me the comfort and perspective that I needed. I have no idea who's reading this, and those of you that are, I know nothing about your journey in life, and the specific paths you've taken. But you're human, and chances are, you've struggled with the same thoughts that overwhelm me this morning. I pray that it opens a door of hope with you as well.

Basically, my thoughts are pretty simple. I don't have a deep theological dissertation or a new idea of what God is trying to communicate. What rang true with me in these words is that God knows exactly what He's doing, each and every second of our lives. Regardless of the paths we decide to take in life, each one is the path that is ordained for us to walk down. Culture might classify your choices as "right" or "wrong", but what does that really mean when we are in perfect union with God? I firmly believe that if we remain connected to God in prayer and meditation, each and every life choice that we make is guided by Him through His Spirit and therefore cannot be narrowed down to a category of "right" or "wrong". My Dad often said that if we remain responsible in our decisions and pray about each choice, there are no "bad" choices. A specific decision may not be exactly what God had intended, but he still uses that choice for good and to advance His Kingdom.

Many of you know that I had a bad experience with the last church staff on which I served. I spent most of the Summer being angry with those that hurt me, and with God as well. I demanded God provide a reason for what happened, and begged Him for me to be vindicated. I questioned my decision to join this church, and questioned if God had even called me there in the first place. But just as I reached the pinnacle of confusion and frustration, God revealed to me that everything happened exactly as He had intended it. There was a "reason" for what happened, and I didn't need to know what it was. And I have found a peace with this realization.

So I sit here, in a dark corner of the library, banging on my laptop and knowing that there is a time to write and a time to serve on a church staff. There is a time to feel lonely, isolated and there is a time to enjoy company. There is a time for confusion and a time for clarity. There is a time for the wilderness and a time for shelter. There is a time for depression and a time for peace. A time for anger and a time for joy. There is a time to fall and a time to get up, but also a time to just lie there for a while. There is a time for each event in our lives that God sets into motion. And just like the seasons throughout a year, they often seem to be in complete conflict with each other. But they all work together in complete unity and reveal to us a simple truth: There is a time to trust God, and a time to....well...I guess that's it.

Asking Questions

Lately, I've been getting into some discussions regarding questions about the Christian faith. What I've seen is that a large number of these questions stem from one thing: doubts or a lack of faith. I'll admit, my first reaction to some of these conversations has been frustration, but after meditating on some of the underlying motives, my heart began to soften a little. I began to see that maybe my frustrations were only a natural defense mechanism for my own questions of faith. I know what your thinking, and before you make a decision about my underlying motives for this blog, please indulge me for a cyberspace minute or two. I think you'll see where I'm going with this and maybe even come along for the ride. If not, no worries because I'm paying for the gas, and it's my vehicle.

From time to time, we all have questions about our faith. As we stumble and bump around this life, like a clumsy toddler learning to use his legs, we inevitably bump into things that just don't make sense. We wonder. We question. We wrestle with our thoughts. We get frustrated and many times, we give up. There is so much about God that falls into the unknown, so how can anyone with all honesty say that they have it all figured out? If they do, they either suffer from a slightly swollen ego, or they've been conditioned to believe that questioning God is just a step away from being a heretic. Our Church culture has built a structure that discourages questioning and subtly belittles those who do. And doubts or even unbelief? Forget it! Full out rejection!

But is it OK to question our faith? Is it a natural part of our spiritual walk? Are doubts and fears about our faith acceptable, or are they manifestations of unbelief. Is it possible to believe, but still struggle with unbelief? St. Augustine revealed the nature of questioning faith in Confessions. For him, the mere act of questioning was actually a portal into a deeper faith and a closer relationship with God. In his experience, he saw questioning as an energy that moved him toward God. Learning to ask questions, and how to ask questions is reflected in much of his work. But one thing remains clear, Augustine saw questioning of God and faith in general, as a natural and healthy form of spiritual discipline.

In Mark 9:13-30, Jesus heals a boy that is possessed by a demon. When his father asks Jesus to help them he says, "But if you can, take pity on us and help us." Jesus responds, "If you can? Everything is possible for him who believes." The boy's father responds, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!" Jesus then cast the demon out of the boy. There were no preconditions on the man's faith, and there was no chastisement for his lack of belief. The man proclaims that he understands some of what's going on with Jesus, but some of it is also difficult. Perhaps this man had seen and heard of the miracles Jesus had preformed. Maybe he had heard murmurings that Jesus was the long awaited Messiah, but His rejection by the religious leaders caused him to doubt these claims. Maybe he was afraid. Afraid of letting go of tradition and what he had been taught his entire life.

For me, questioning is liberating. It is a doorway that reveals to me that I serve a God that is big enough to handle the tough questions that I have about Him. But the interesting thing about questioning, is that it actually moves me toward a deeper faith and knowledge that I lacked to begin with. I think that if we remain in unbelief and stubbornly ignore our doubts, we end up with a shallow faith that is actually more dangerous than questioning.

Don't get me wrong. I do believe, I just need help with my unbelief.

Avatar and Worship

Yesterday afternoon, my oldest son and I ventured out for some "guy time" and saw Avatar. If you haven't seen the movie yet, let me just say that if you saw the 1990 epic, Dances with Wolves, you already know the basic story line. In fact, one could easily say that it's just a futuristic rip-off in CGI form. Don't get me wrong, Avatar is an amazing and beautiful journey into pure fantasy and was worth the money. It's an escape, which is what most of us need these days. But is there much more to it?

Despite the usual political rhetoric regarding "evil" humans, and how we are too stupid and greedy to avoid destroying ourselves, and eventually other planets, the movie is very enjoyable. But I'll warn you... you may walk out of the movie carrying a burden of humanistic guilt the size of a Mountain Banshee! There's also the whole "Colonists suck, Indians rock" theme going! Avatar also smacks of universalist theology, pantheism and goddess worship, but what can you expect from Hollywood, and the man who arrogantly prides himself on miraculously discovering Jesus' tomb? The plot is very predictable and leaves you with the underlying theme that it is uncool to be Human.

Believe it or not, it is not my intention to slam Avatar. Like I said, I liked the movie and was very entertained, and I usually try and keep political agendas out of the picture. I'm not a film critic, but as with any movie I see, I always try and dissect the underlying theological significance and how it applies to today's culture. After watching Avatar, this wasn't difficult to do. One aspect resonated with me more clearly than any other movie in many years. It's subtle, but definitely there, and is also one of the main objections I had to the movie: the faith and worship of the alien civilization around which the movie revolves.

The Na'vi are a primitive race of aliens that inhabit the planet Pandora. As the movie progresses, you begin to see the lifeblood of this culture, which is its faith in their deity, Eywa. The center of worship is The Tree of Souls, which seems to be the point of spiritual contact with Eywa and the civilization's ancestors. The energy that emanates from this tree, and Eywa, is a living network that carries through all of nature, living creatures and the Na'vi themselves. It's the center of life on Pandora.

The point is, the Na'vi saw their deity and it's power as the center of their lives. Nothing existed independently from their god. To this culture, there was no distinction between faith and life. All aspects of life were united and flowing together, with their god at the center. It was a holistic picture of faith and one of the more beautiful images in Avatar. No, it was not Christian worship and I acknowledge that this movie paints a picture of a false god, and a fantasy god at that. But what I am focusing on, is the simple act of worship within this culture and what I think we can learn from it as believers in Christ.

As I've said before, we live in a very compartmentalized culture with very pluralistic belief systems. One compartment holds our faith. One compartment holds our family. One compartment holds our work, hobbies, friends, etc. Very rarely do we encourage, or even want the elements of our faith intertwining with other compartments of our life. But what would it look like if we did? What would it look like in our churches, if all elements of our lives revolved around our faith communities and the worship of Jesus Christ? What would it be like to see the power of the living God transcending every compartment, until we were left with a holistic picture of life, with God at the center? Everything moved within and intertwined until there was no distinction. No conflicts. No barriers. Just faith in a God that lives within us as Scripture says.

The ancient Hebrews knew this well, and it makes me wonder where we've lost hold of this essential key of worship. In Deuteronomy 6:4-9, God encourages His people in saying "Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates."

In John 15, Jesus reinforced this essential holistic relationship with God when He said, "I am the vine; you are the branches." Just before this in John 14, He says, "Believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me;" Do you see this holistic picture that God has been painting since He first spoke to the people of Israel? God is the essence of all that has life. He lives in us and through us, and gives life to all that is around us. Why should we not then attribute all the aspects of our individual lives to God, and see that He is the object of our worship, not what He has created, but Him who is the creator? Worship as a lifestyle? Not just a Sunday morning ritual? Now that's an alien concept!

Balloons

Life is filled with various types of moments, isn't it? We face pivotal moments when our lives are drastically changed forever, and we face moments that pass without a second thought into history. We face moments of joy, hope, regret, shock, peace, fear, etc. But sometimes we face moments that just make us stop and think. These are simple, uneventful moments that derail the progress of a typical day, cause us to hit the pause button, stop whatever it is we are doing, and just kind of zone out. Nothing major. Just a subtle blip on the screen of life. Well, I had one of those moments today. And I was blowing up balloons.

Midway through my day, I found myself sitting in a hot closet of my church where we store a helium tank. I was blowing up balloons for our Wednesday night kids bible club. No big deal, right? Just blowing up balloons. Red. Blue. Pink. Yellow. Green. I blew them up, tied the ends into a knot and tied a colorful ribbon to the end. I planned on blowing up about 20 balloons, but around number 18, it hit me. I've just spent 30 minutes of my day making balloons. From the time it took me to gather my supplies, walk over to the storage room and make 18 balloons, 30 minuets have vanished. And they were spent making balloons! What could that possibly have to do with God, ministry or anything else for that matter. Balloons!

My mind began to wander. I began to feel that sinking feeling, and I'll admit, I started to get a little depressed. Is this what I expected I would be doing as I worked my way through seminary? Is this what I thought being called into ministry would entail? Is this activity that has taken so much of my time, helping to build God's Kingdom? Did I make too many red ones?

OK, is this all about balloons? No. Is this about effect time management? Maybe a little. I did just buy a nice new day planner. With a calculator! But I think this moment of pause in my day was for a reason bigger than helium and ribbon. I think this was a subtle way of God communicating a much deeper issue. This was just the bump in the road that snapped me out of highway hypnosis.

Scripture is full of verses on serving God. Paul says in his letter to the Colossian Church, "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men...It is the Lord Christ you are serving." What Paul is saying here is that it's not so much the action, but the motives behind the action. Are we serving God with the very essence of our souls, or are we just going through the motions. It's not about blowing up balloons. It's not about teaching a Sunday School class, preaching a sermon, cleaning toilets or writing blogs. It's about our hearts and who we are serving. Our service to God should not primarily come through and abundance of energy, time or strength, but from the overwhelming conviction that we are serving the God of creation! Sometimes, we are just blowing up balloons, and that's OK! Maybe it's in these simple moments that He teaches more about serving with Him, rather than just doing stuff for Him.

The Answer, My friend, is Blowin' in the Wind.....or after?

I live on the west side of Galveston Bay. Over the last couple of weeks, I haven't been able to write anything because of the lack of power in this area. When the lights finally came on, I was faced with the inevitable question, "Do I need to write a blog about Hurricane Ike?" My answer? I guess I don't have any choice. But what to write? How does this storm, that effected my area so drastically, fit into the realm of theology? How does not having power for a week inspire me to write something worthy of adding to my blog? What kind of deep philosophical perspective can I put on the natural phenomenon of hurricanes and how they tie into life, faith and spirituality? Well, I'm still thinking.

But, as with all storms, the wind stopped. The waters receded. And the power remained off. So as I sat in the calm quiet of darkness, the one thing that became very clear to me is this: God is very powerful. Too simplistic? Maybe. Too obvious? Maybe not. You see, I think that in our high-tech and complex world, we sometimes forget this very simple fact. God is very powerful. And as I pondered over this, I thought of the story of Jesus calming the storm in Matthew 8. Most of us have read, or heard, this story many times, and our first inclination is to interpret this passage as a comforting illustration that Christ "calms" the "storms" of life. But is this really what God is trying to say to us? Don't get me wrong, Jesus does calm the storms of our lives and this is a perfectly good passage of scripture to use in getting this point across. But is this what Matthew was really intending as he wrote these words? I don't think so.

Look at it from this perspective. What is the disciple's first reaction to Jesus calming the storm? They were amazed and asked, "What kind of man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey Him?" Think about it. They didn't cheer in excitement that the storm had stopped. They didn't release a concerted sigh of relief, realizing that their lives were sparred. They didn't fall to the floor of the boat, praising God that they would live another day. They were no longer focused on themselves and the storm. They were focused on Christ.

You see, the disciples attention turned from the power of the storm to the power of this man that just told the wind and waves to shut up! Their attention was diverted and that is what I think God is trying to get across to us in this story. Sure, God calms the storms of our lives, but more importantly, He is more powerful than the storms we face. He is above and beyond any storm we find ourselves in; figurative or literal. As Jesus spent more time with these twelve men, He revealed more about who He was. As He chopped away at their preconceptions, he opened their eyes to reality in it's fullest. God is very powerful. Sometimes it takes a storm for us to realize this. And sometimes it takes the calm.