Roots: A Communal Journal

This year, our church has made "evangelism" its theme and focus. I am grateful for how our church's leadership has tried to present a robust view of what "evangelism" really means, and how it can be better understood and practiced. That has stoked some contemplation on my part, and through that, I have come to realize that I have a lot of reexamining and unlearning to do.  For most of my life in the church, I have listened to various Christian leaders, pastors, and theologians proclaim that the church’s "main mission" is evangelism. Innumerous outreach initiatives have been launched based on this assumed, obvious fact. Many people like me, raised in evangelical churches and settings, can tell their own evangelism stories. Sometimes, those stories are about highly-energizing, deeply wholesome, and humanizing interactions. Others times, they are marked by guilt-motivated, humiliating, even aggressive tactics towards complete strangers, friends, and relat...

My church has been studying Hebrews since last year. Recently, our pastor taught on Hebrews 12, where the author reminds his readers that God disciplines those whom he loves. That led to an extended and thoughtful sermon that distinguished three terms--punishment, discipline, and consequences--that parents (and people generally) tend to use interchangeably. I think it is fair to say that our pastor characterized "punishment" as problematic. He quoted from a  blog by Mark Bellanger which said the following: "Punishment is condemning. Discipline is correcting. Consequences are causational...Punishment is a punitive action done to make the offender repay the debt they have incurred. It is done for the benefit of the offended rather than for the offender." (there are a couple of other reflections and quotes in the article that more explicitly critique "punishment") Our pastor went on to say that punishment isn't about seeing reconciliation between the par...

"Not by might, nor by power, but by my...actually, scratch that. Sometimes, you just have to take power and get stuff done," says the Lord. "I, Paul, determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified...actually, that would never work. Forget that I ever said that." "If anyone would follow me, they must deny themselves, take up their cross and...you know what? What would that even accomplish? I'm sorry. So impractical." Jesus, knowing that they intended to come and make him king by force, was like, "Yes! Finally. I get to call the shots and get stuff done!" Jesus said to Peter, "Put your sword back in its...well, you know what? Go ahead use that thing to get stuff done!" Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." Peter took him aside and rebuked him. And Jesus repented, saying, "You are right Peter, what was I thinking? W...

Here I am again. It's Sunday afternoon and I'm frustrated, angry, helpless, and lonely all at once. Like when the high school youth group gets a turn leading the musical worship: I'm trying to sing along but everything is just...off. Sometimes I wish I hated my church. It has been a painful journey but I am now at peace with sloughing off the "evangelical Christian" label. I no longer feel the discordant crush of contradictory feelings and beliefs that holding onto White American Evangelicalism forced me into. I feel a freedom to question everything and find a faith that is more beautiful, inclusive, and academically rigorous. I feel thinly restrained fury when I look at what the American church has become now that I am choosing to be an outsider. Being able to hate (or at least feel repelled by) the evangelical church has made it easy to discard. But I don't hate my church. My church is full of people who love fiercely. My church has urged vaccination and fol...

Christ appears, even in locked rooms. Abandoned or in bands in spare rooms or in bright we hide, woozy and downcast— and Christ is present wedding our future to his past. Christ appears, just in locked rooms. Host as guest he arrives for the missing, the not-yet-present the downcast, the cast aside— Christ appears just in locked rooms to unlock them from inside. Christ disappears, becomes for us the unlocked room. But never absent in his absence present not as body but as breath keeping those within, anxious for those without— Christ becomes our unlocked room making space for us to doubt. Christ remains; provides all the room we need. So doors, swing open—wide and wide! And friends, uncork only the best wines! Everyone, everyone’s invited, near and far— Come, Jesus will greet you and bend to kiss your shining scars.

I am grateful to have grown under the loving care of two godly parents that shaped my imagination about God and his world.  Unfortunately, too many others like me grew up with other Christian pastors, teachers, friends, and mentors who taught that when things were going wrong in our lives or the lives of others—if life was not one moment of glory followed by another—there were two possible answers: either we were not doing all of the right things or we were not believing all the right things. A lack of faith, a misstep here or there, results in hardships and divine disfavor. Meanwhile, material blessing and convenience was a "sign" from God that we were walking in step with his purposes.   This conception of God has been showing up routinely in evangelical responses to the COVID pandemic.  Most people would call this superstition. It is certainly not the gospel. It’s ironic that for many like me, this kind of superstitious theology was not all t...

I have been disappointed to see so much fear mongering and hand wringing by Christians over the somewhat recent California rules , which restricts, among other things, singing and chanting in enclosed spaces, as well as larger indoor gatherings. The concern seems to be this: Christians have an scriptural obligation to gather together in the same physical space, and to sing in sufficiently large groups, even when they know that doing so poses significant risks to their communities and will likely extend the ongoing pandemic through further outbreaks. That's just stunning to me. Absolutely stunning. Certainly, the Bible teaches that we owe God our worship, and that worship often takes the form of singing. We're also not supposed to "forsake the assembly"  (Hebrews 10:25), and some have argued that refusing to meet in person is to do just that. But when we love our neighbors, when we walk the extra mile, when we become the servant of all, when we l...

As this pandemic continues and its effects take a toll on our communities and collective morale, I feel a responsibility to spur fellow white American evangelical Christians away from the grotesque roleplay of the political martyr--a role I admit we have been trained in for at least two generations--so that we can mobilize to meet our neighbors' needs. Churches should be thinking creatively and compassionately about how to bring healing where there is suffering, and to do so with the confidence that we are welcoming the presence of Jesus each step of the way. I am more convinced than ever that the white American evangelical church has utterly forgotten cruciformity --meaning that we are a people who, as Jesus taught, deny ourselves and carry our crosses. Said differently, we are a  people shaped by the cross and its implications.  I fear we have forgotten this basic truth, and along the way, our imaginations shriveled up. We have become so consumed with obtaining ...

"All I can point to is the collective trembling of the world; the mass anxiety simmering within us; the seemingly endless cycle of grief that story after story has brought; the fear that can shapeshift so quickly to anger; and the protectiveness of a fragile hope that seems to evade us one day and triumph the next ...I am reminded that our hope is not fragile. It runs deep and wide and everlasting. It is not afraid. It is already victorious. Our hope is in a God who is much, much greater than even a global pandemic. A God who told the sun to rise this morning and to set last night. A God who, even now, mourns with us and restores us." - Mango, Love in the Time of Corona -- Thank you for this post. It was encouraging, profound, and also convicting.  When I read your post* I was reminded about how the kind of "simmering" instability you describe is more common for more people than I might like to acknowledge. If I am honest, this broken world's norm is...

[ The "National Memorial for Peace and Justice" located in Montgomery, AL ]   -- Note: In January, I  posted  what amounted to a public confrontation with my with experience growing up as a White American Evangelical, and more specifically, the anti-Christian, violent impulses which I believe animate much of that community's public and political behavior. It was an attempt to kick-off a series of self-examinations on how my upbringing has shaped my development, tainted my values, and affected even my most basic understandings of the Christian faith. This post is a continuation of that "confrontation" and examination--it was also my answer when I was asked recently what it means to be "white". I welcome your perspectives and insight. -- To talk about whiteness, I feel as though I have to begin with what Chanequa Walker-Barnes describes as the "great moral injury" at the heart of whiteness (see her book I Bring the Voices of My Peo...

Last month, in an attempt to explain white evangelical support for President Trump, Brit Hume of Fox News wrote the following: " And he's willing to fight ."  I have been thinking about this tweet for weeks now. It's become a kind of magnet for many of my wayward reflections on race, politics, faith, and my own white American evangelical culture. That is, at least in part, because I believe Hume unwittingly identified the central deception which has captured the imagination of white American evangelicals: they regard their place in the wider American culture in terms of combat . It is this error which has led the vast majority of white American evangelicals to believe that the POTUS is fighting alongside them. For some time now, I have been reflecting on evangelicalism—the culture of evangelicals—and white American evangelicalism in particular. I grew up in a white evangelical home. We were homeschooled, watched Veggie Tales , attended non-denomin...

* These songs echo throughout our home all year, but especially during this season. -- Josh Garrels |  O Day of Peace  &  Come to Him O day of peace that dimly shines through all our hopes, and prayers, and dreams Guide us to justice, truth, and love Delivered from our selfish schemes May the swords of hate fall from our hands Our hearts from envy find release Till by God's grace our warring world shall see Christ's promised reign of peace Then shall the wolf dwell with the lamb Nor shall the fierce devour the small As beats and cattle calmly graze a little child Shall lead them all Then enemies shall learn to love All creatures find their true according The hope of peace shall be fulfilled For all the earth shall know the Lord Come to Him with all of your heart Come and lay your burdens down For peace he came to give and joy shall be the crown And joy shall be the crown

Don't forget that To walk the sandy shores of the Kingdom To catch the dust scattered by the sandals of Christ Is to relinquish the dreams and the ads and the liturgies that teach Death Is to embrace the wisdom and the mysteries and the other who breathe Life Is to understand that God's good gifts are always Restless in the hands of the receiver until they are given away Again and again For those hands must be kept Open to receive to repent to listen to bow to forgive to bear a Cross We will never have to carry For how can we receive the Kingdom For how can we taste the Christ without first forgetting without first denying without first receiving without first befriending without first selling All that we have in great joy for that abandoned and overgrown lot down the block And so Christ's poverty is our lavish inheritance a Kingdom passed down to its enemies We steal what was never rightfully ours and we begin to understa...

Zealously We endure  like the dining room candles burning at both ends of the day with all our hearts Sowing, reaping, working not for ourselves and yet for ourselves passionately, patiently, perseveringly, pursuing Idols we cannot believe Stories we cannot hear Dreams we cannot have Treasures we cannot hold We are left Smoldering like a weary candle Ashes to ashes, smoke rising  like that fire down the block Noteworthy, dangerous, tragic We are left Bruised like a river's reed Broken, deformed, chaff  tossed to and fro by the cold winds Desolated by desire But behold My Servant will proclaim justice in the streets will make peace where quarrels reign will not break the bruised reed will not quench the smoldering wick And in His Name We hold and have and hear and believe Zealously We participate in his death resurrecting even drinking from the servant's basin So that as he makes peace our strivings may cease

We breathe in birth at death gasps which we cannot recall and never could have intended That others witness, cherish, memorialize And just like those breaths God is with us our first and our last remembered and unremembered our Ebeneezer No less his, and no less ours He is the Word Who made the word That made the World And we, who are born of breath Walk as though sustained by it Sit as if condemned by it Lay as now robbed of it Scattered as a chaff in the wind From dust of dust to flesh and bone His breath resurrects and invites welcoming life into the family rooms of our hearts of stone

There aren’t enough hours In the day For me to live my life In every way I always dreamed of living I want to write I want to paint I want to read I want to know Every word in every book I want to love I want to befriend Too many people Are we all just dying? Is that all there is to life, dying? Are our bodies already betraying us? Are we dying of cancer Or ALS Or AIDS Is an aneurysm on the horizon? How can I live Knowing that I’m dying How can I find purpose Knowing my time is ticking? How can god be good When he doesn’t give his children Enough time to choose In a world of too many choices Of too much noise I don’t want us all to be dying -birch --- Don't worry y'all, I'm going to therapy. 

Or consider that tree  In the dead of winter See how bare-bone it is? How affected and exposed it is?  How sturdy and mortified it is? Every year, you know  New life Fresh beginnings a creation, a refuge planted by streams of living water  Sparks along the limbs Every year, you know  Old death a sorrowful bow braced by wind and storm roots creaking Stripping the body clean Every year, again and again  At nature's mercy secure, yet defenseless sheltering death and life  Together  At once The tree bears it all Do you need me to tell you?  God is like this tree naked, unashamed, other, known mercifully at our mercy invaluable, yet commodified incomparable, yet ignored struck down, but not destroyed bearing fruit in and out of season   Teeming with Life everlasting God is like this tree And we cannot imagine it without him

Review:  Stanley Hauerwas The Character of Virtue: Letters to a Godson Eerdmans Publishing Co. (2018) ________________ Note: I plan to publish a monthly book review here on Roots. Each review will focus on a book I'm reading as a part of my devotions and studies. My hope is that these reviews will weave their way into conversations already happening here, spark some new ones, and maybe even point someone to a quality read.   -- On September 17, 2001, TIME magazine named Stanley Hauerwas "America's Best Theologian" . The irony of the award was likely lost to most. Hauerwas had spent his career calling the church away from the center of national attention and back to the margins. And in the shadow of 9/11, Hauerwas' lively and outspoken pacifism coupled awkwardly with the American thirst for vengeance.  Perhaps TIME hoped to highlight Americana ideals and virtues, but even then, the virtues Hauerwas championed had very little to do with America and e...