Wrecked for the Ordinary - : Social Action for Spiritual Misfits

Jesus and His Fridge:Adult Crayon Art

Tue, 8 Mar 2011 00:00:00 GMT

If God has a fridge, does He tape our crayon art to it? I hope so. I made some for Him.

A few years ago, after a trip to Kenya, I felt God telling me to paint. So I did. I created some watercolors of the people, animals, and places of Kenya. I wanted to expose people to Africa's poverty and hope in a new way. I'm glad I listened. I had the most successful year as an artist that I had ever had, which culminated in two things: I was featured in the summer edition of World Vision magazine, which has a HUGE readership, and I raised enough money from the Kenya art sales to fund a large portion of my recent trip back to Africa. I also donated 25% of my proceeds back to World Vision. The whole thing felt really right.

After that experience, I still felt the need to paint. I probably will for the rest of my life. Around fall of 2009, I kept coming back to painting something for God. I didn't feel specifically called to paint like I did with the Kenya paintings, but I love Him so much that it's just something I wanted to do.

I'd been fascinated by the Hebrew names of God, such has Jehovah Jireh (Our Provider), but I didn't know as much about the names of Jesus. I'd been intrigued by Byzantine icons (think Madonna and Child paintings), but I didn't know much about them either. Last, I occasionally wondered why current art doesn't represent God like it used to in periods such as the Renaissance.

So, I decided to paint seven watercolors, each one based on a Hebrew or Greek name of Jesus. Each is done in the Byzantine style, but is modernized a bit in order to reach today's audience.

One of my favorite paintings in the series is Man of Sorrows/Ish Makoboth.

As I'm sure you can figure out, Ish Makoboth is the Hebrew translation for Man of Sorrows (Isaiah 53: 3-4a). The name refers to Christ as someone who "took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows."

Structurally, this painting is similar to Giotto di Bondone's Ognissanti Madonna because of the Madonna and Child surrounded by saints and two angels against a gold background.

However, in my painting, Instead of Mary holding Jesus, it is Jesus holding a child against a gold background. Instead of being surrounded by saints, He's surrounded by people in pain. Each is giving Him an object that represents a sorrow in that person's life. The man in red holds a fly, which traditionally symbolizes disease. Notice the closer each individual gets to Christ, the whiter his or her clothes become. Christ is wearing a crown of thorns and His clothes are completely black. Through His death on the cross, He's taken away their sorrow!

Through the viewing of each painting, I want each viewer to be drawn closer to Jesus. I want people to see the title, read the painting description, see the symbols, read any scripture references, and be led to Him. We worship Him through the bible, through music, through prayer. Why not worship through art? Why not worship with our eyes?

One surprise for me was how the creative process became an act of worship. Through reading scripture references, finding the right Byzantine symbols, studying Byzantine paintings, and the act of painting itself, I was reminded that He is: the Child, the Beginning and the End, the Man of Sorrow, the Prince of Peace, the King of Kings, the Way, the Truth, and the Life, the Son of God, and the Son of Man. I already had an idea of what each name meant, but I learned it at a deeper level. I believe in Him even more.

I hope Jesus has a refrigerator. I've got seven crayon drawings waiting for Him.

Andrea is an in-store artist for Trader Joe's grocery store in the Seattle area. She loves travel to far off places, art, books, social justice, a good laugh, her friends, her family, and God.

The Problem of Wealth: Reflections on Poverty in Kibera

Sat, 8 Jan 2011 00:00:00 GMT

From Kenya:

"He who loves money will not be satisfied with money, nor he who loves wealth with his income, this also is vanity."

-Ecclesiastes 5:10

As we have walked around Kibera, sharing the Gospel and encouraging the believers, we've run into one central problem - money. No one has enough; everyone needs more. Unfortunately, our white skin sticks out and screams wealth to the people of Kibera. We've become beggar magnets.

And to a certain extent, it's true. My old lifestyle was probably double or triple the price of the lifestyle around here. My old lifestyle was incredibly extravagant in comparison. I can understand why these people come to us.

I have never lived under a roof that leaked when it rained. I have never gone without a meal because I couldn't afford anything to eat. I have never chosen my toy from a pile of garbage. I am well provided for, thanks to wonderful family and friends whom God regularly provides through. I have never known true want like we live among here.

But I have learned something here. You don't have to "know want" like Kibera to have money problems. We went to a wealthier (as compared to Kibera), westernized church today and heard a sermon all about money. Even the people of this church.... who all have houses, electricty, running water... all their needs and wants... aren't satisfied. They are spending weeks and weeks learning how to earn money, save money, and increase their wealth.

So whether you are an unemployed single mother in Kibera or a wealthy land owner in Nairobi the theme song remains the same... Never satisfied...

And in comparison what does God offer? What is my response to this? What do I do with the beggar on the street and the rich man in church? God has the same message for all:

"Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy, and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; hear, that your soul may live; and I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David." -Isaiah 55:1-3

Is this a promise of God to provide wealth for all those who accept Him? What is rich food? What is this nourishment that causes the soul to live?

It's the message of Christ. Christ came among the poor and the destitute. Christ came among the rich and the affluent. And He came with one message: "You need Me."

That has to be my message, too. I can provide a loaf of bread that will last a few meals or I can provide the bread of life which lasts through eternity. By God's grace sometimes I can provide both. But the latter definitely carries the weight of importance.

"Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, 'I will never leave you nor forsake you'." -Hebrews 13:5

That's the key right there. That's the message: He's alive; He's here. And He wants to be with you forever. That's my mission; that's my message. And that's my hope for all eternity.

When I stare real poverty in the face, knowing that my feeble efforts may barely make a dent in the real problem, that message gives me hope. And that hope is easily shared. That is the "rich food" that can sustain any family much longer than a loaf of bread. That is true "sustenance". That's why I'm here.

Laura is from Abilene, TX. She went on the World Race in 2006 and now works for Adventures in Missions. This story is from her travels around the world. Follow her blog to read more.

Finding Community in a Cambodian Dump

Sat, 8 Jan 2011 00:00:00 GMT

Three days ago, I met Gaiw, a 10-year-old scavenger boy, living in a dump community on the outskirts of Phnom Pheh, Cambodia.

After a long day of work, collecting scrap metal in baggies, Gaiw exchanges his metal for $1. His days seemed endless to me. He collects scrap metal... to survive? What thoughts go through Gaiw's mind each day?

Does his imagination run free?

Gaiw spoke with Ratanak and proudly shared his greatest finds with his dedicated friend. I know they chat about the way they can unwind the coils and cut them into strips to bring in a larger profit. What a humbling experience to see two young boys sharing a genuine friendship in the middle of a wasteland.

Their shiniest treasures did not stand a chance against their matchless bond.

I wondered: "Gaiw, do you dream? Ratanak, do you share with Gaiw about what you want to be when you grow up?"

I desired for their childhood to look different. I wanted to save these boys from their conditions and present them with something better. How crazy to think I had all the answers.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So, we fix our eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary but what is unseen is eternal." -2 Corinthians 4:16 - 18

I couldn't help but grieve the innocent childhood they were being robbed of. Or, maybe they were not. Their friendship will most likely stand the test of time. In the desolate plain there was an irreplaceable camaraderie. More unique than anything I had ever seen.Their friendship was rooted in loyalty. What a testimony of the warrior spirit living inside of them. I couldn't help but think: "Lord, do they know you? Is their hope in you? Do they find peace in your love amidst the waste?"

My steps through the dump seem to be increasing these days -- from Happy Land in Manila Bay to the dump on the outskirts of Phnom Pheh. Why the repetition? A simple question remains: Who is a voice for the voiceless? In the wasteland of the dump, there was silence; yet, I found souls eager for life.

They were searching, seeking... looking for something more.

What I found was a hidden treasure... a matchless friendship.

The interaction between Gaiw and Ratanak was a rare find. I'm discovering the importance of keeping my eyes open for all the treasures. Often, they are hidden, in the most unexpected of places. Don't miss them.

"For where your treasure is your heart will be also." -Matthew 6:21

Emily recently finished a mission trip around the world called the World Race. You can follow her blog here.

Unexpected Grace in India

Sat, 8 Jan 2011 00:00:00 GMT

From India:

Grace came to me unexpectedly today.

We'd been accosted by beggars everywhere we went in Hyderabad. You want to help the needy ones, but giving to beggars can be complicated. Anyone who saw Slumdog Millionaire understands how it can be a racket. And so, you pray for discernment and you pray for grace.

But your spirit can feel bruised by it all. Today was a long day and we were ready for a safe place on the eve of our departure from India. And then, walking to our last meeting, I heard behind me, "Sir, sir!"

I recoiled inside, guard up, seeing a small woman beckoning me and wondering how to fend her off.

"Sir, I have cancer. Mommy, daddy dead. I need to catch train. Help me."

"Right," I thought. There was no grace in me.

But I listened as she shared more details of her plight. And I asked her to come to where we could talk inside our building. I promised to help somehow. She agreed to walk with us.

Once inside, I got Raju to translate so she could speak in Hindi. She was skin and bones. She showed us a big lump on her neck - an enlarged thyroid. She showed us her deformed arm. She showed us her medical records.

"I think she is telling you the truth," said Raju.

"What is your name?" I asked.

"It is Grace," she answered.

We gathered some of the nearby racers and Noe prayed a powerful prayer. He declared, "Grace, God says you are beautiful! You are beautiful." She was crying. You could feel God's presence. And a wave of emotion hit me.

We sent her away with money for the train and for medicines and with hugs. And if she found grace through us in that short interaction, after a day of searching for it, we found that grace has a pronoun. I've thought and even blogged before about grace - but about grace as an abstraction.

Tonight, she took on human form and kissed our spirits. She walked away in the night, but her spirit lingered with us.

Seth is the executive director of Adventures In Missions, an organization that sends people on short-term mission trips around the world. He lives in Gainesville, GA with his wife Karen. You can visit his blog "Radical Living in a Comfortable World" at sethbarnes.com.

Autism in the Church: Welcoming Special Needs Children

Thu, 6 Jan 2011 00:00:00 GMT

Autism in the church is an invisible problem that is alienating families all over the country.

The 7-year-old boy danced around at the front of the room as the worship team played a song. His parents made multiple attempts to corral him but to the child he was just fitting in. After all, the adults were singing loud, waving their arms and swaying. This was how he waved his hands and swayed to the Spirit in the room.

The adults didn't see the worship that was happening. They looked at the child with obvious irritation. They looked at the parents with raised eyebrows silently asking why they don't get their child under control. (As if the parents haven't been trying to keep him acting in the manner that people want children to act in a church service when child care isn't being provided.)

With every giggle, every whisper to his parents that was a little louder than a whisper, every fidget in his seat the irritation of those around him seemed to exponentially grow. People would move away from the child and his family. The family was made to feel more and more unwelcome.

The child wasn't just being disobedient. The parents weren't just slacking in their duties.

The child had autism.

Every Sunday in churches all across the USA, families with autistic children are pushed to the side and made to feel unwelcome because most churches just aren't ready to deal with these children. It's not just autism either: families who have children with special needs ranging from MS to Down Syndrome to cerebral palsy find themselves being pushed to the perimeter of the "church family" until they quietly leave on their own.

Every Sunday there are thousands of families who would love to spend time worshipping God with other followers of Christ who feel they have no place to go because they are not made to feel welcome simply because the child God gave them doesn't fit the "normal" societal template for a child.

The church will tell them that they're not equipped to handle a child with special needs. They'll tell the parents that their child is "too much of a disruption for the other children." If the family is invited to stay they'll be asked to sit in the children's area with their child to "help them."

How does that help the parents grow in their relationship with God or other believers? They can take care of their child at home without the dirty looks that will inevitably be given to them by others who don't understand the struggles of a child with special needs. And those dirty looks, snide comments and cold shoulders are very noticeable to the parents of those children.

The problem goes a lot deeper than just the church hierarchy that is usually not prepared when a family with a special needs child walks in their door. There's a profound lack of understanding and support from the Christian community as a whole. Our worship time is seen almost in a selfish manner by so many of us. We like to sit in certain spots. We like to hear certain songs. We get very irritated if something throws off our experience like a child who doesn't act like the perfect angel. Instead of taking that moment to show the grace of God that we're claiming to seek ourselves in the worship service we allow anger to be our guide.

And I'm not talking the child who's screaming and yelling and making an obvious huge disruption. I'm talking the child who just rocks back and forth in the pew. The one that dances during the worship time as he's made to stand up like everyone else. LITTLE things that can be such a huge sore spot for so many people that they'll condemn and exclude the families of those children.

Would Jesus really turn away the family of the special needs child?

Do you think He wants us doing that?

Yet it happens every Sunday.

How do I know these things happen? Because I have a son with autism. And I've experienced some of it. I've been involved with other families who have special needs children who have dealt with some of the things I've mentioned. The families who are told it's unreasonable for them to expect the church to help with their child so the adults can have even an hour of interaction with other adults to worship God. The families who are told if they want the church to be able to care for special needs children then those parents need to start and run the program.

The families who are made to feel it's somehow their fault their child was born in a way other than "normal."

There are some churches that are doing wonderfully when it comes to helping the families of children with special needs. Our family has been tremendously blessed by finding one. We've tried to invite other special needs families to attend but have had our hearts broken many times when they say "we simply don't want to put our family through it again."

So if you're a church leader, I ask you: what would happen if a family with a special needs child walked through your door? If you're just a Christ-follower not in leadership, I ask you: how would you react to the child who is acting a little differently than the other little boys and girls?

Jason has been blessed with great trials that have refined him through fire both figuratively and once literally. He's had his faith stretched to the breaking point and has seen God come through in amazing ways that he's now sharing through his website and the upcoming Mustard Seed Year. A former 20-year veteran radio broadcaster, Jason now lives in Nashville, Tennessee with his family where he focuses on writing and speaking.

Is Jesus the Way, the Truth, and the Life?

Wed, 29 Dec 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Is Jesus "the Way, the Truth and the Life" as we often hear in church? Really? How?

In John 14:6, Jesus says, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." (NIV) While this is an oft-quoted verse about the theological exclusivity of Christ, I want to explore a deeper, often missed meaning.

If we Christians believe these statements to be true, then how are we living as if they are true?

That is, if this man called Jesus -- whom we believe to be the Son of God -- is, in fact, the way and the truth and life, wouldn't that have an impact on we lived every minute of every day of our lives, including how we processed ideas and truth claims, how we treated other people, and how we interacted with God? Let's explore that for a moment.

If the above scripture is true, and I believe it is, then Jesus represents all the essential fulfillment needs in life that we are searching for: a place to belong, something true to cling to, and a purpose to live for. What more do we need than those?

Jesus as the Way

I admit that I have, at times, missed Jesus. Like a traveler without a map, I thought that I was able to navigate through life on my own, without a guide. I believed in God and felt that I was generally a good person; therefore, I believed that I was on the right path, forging my own destiny, my own way to purpose in life. From a religious standpoint, I believed that Jesus had, more or less, shown me the way and was telling me to walk in it. For the most part, however, I just had a long list of stuff I couldn't do.

Regardless, I never imagined a God who would walk the hard paths of life with me.

But Jesus didn't come to merely show us the way, as we sing in the popular. Rather, he came to be the way. That distinction can fundamentally change how we live our lives.

Jesus as the Truth

Jesus didn't come to teach us the truth. He is the truth. Right doctrine isn't propositional, as Len Sweet might say. It's relational. Truth is not an idea or an essence; according to the Bible, it's a Person.

As such, that means we can interact with Truth in an organic way; it is not a series of points that we simply assent to, but something that has substance and personality and even a voice.

Jesus as the Life

This idea is particularly prevalent in evangelical circles: that the statement, "Jesus is the life," means that we get a free ticket through the pearly gates. When someone decides to follow Christ, he gets a lot more than heaven as his reward. Sure, we get eternal life, but that begins now, not when we die and not in a thousand years. Right now.

If we're seeking to know the God of the Bible, then we are compelled to believe Jesus for what he says -- that he is our very life. Not just a fire insurance policy or a far-off and distant reward. That means (unfortunately, for some of us) that following Jesus should make a difference not just after we die, but each day of our lives before we die.

The implications of these differences, if we take them seriously, could be revolutionary in our faith. Either Christ is our example for good behavior, or he is the very road we walk. Either he taught a series of philosophical precepts that we memorize and make intellectual assent to, or he is the very truth we comprehend. And either he is our prayer into the good life when we die, or he is himself the life we are longing to live in the here and now.

For those seeking to follow Jesus and struggling with these concepts, I propose a more personal approach. Try repeating this phrase next time you read the above text: "Christ is my way, my truth, and my life."

What does it mean for you that Christ is the way, the truth, and the life?

Jeff graduated from Illinois College, a small liberal arts school, with a degree in Spanish and Religion. He lives in Nashville, TN with his wife Ashley. He works for Adventures in Missions, edits this silly little magazine, and loves to do new things. Check out his blog: Pilgrimage of the Heart.

Billy Graham on the Limits of Technology

Sat, 25 Dec 2010 00:00:00 GMT

In 1998, Billy Graham delivered this fascinating and compelling TED Talk about technology and faith.

This is not the first technological revolution, Graham says. Technology has helped and aided humanity in many ways, but it will never be able to solve some of humanity's greatest moral dilemmas: particularly, the problems of human evil, suffering, and death.

That wars and poverty rage on in a world where the most advanced technology exists is a painful reminder of the limits of technology and human achievement. Moreover, Rev. Graham notes, we are all going to die.

The length of our lives may be extended by technology, but we will still eventually meet the grave. "The moment when it is terrible to feel regret is when one is dying," he quotes Solzhenitsyn.

Listening to this talk for me was, admittedly, a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect Billy Graham to be so deep and intellectual. I know have a much better understanding and appreciation for why he is on the world's most sought-after speakers (not just as a preacher, either). Graham's delivery in the Ted Talk is both powerful and compelling.

Enjoy the video and share your own thoughts:

What are some other limits of technology?

Deliverance: A Poem

Fri, 24 Dec 2010 00:00:00 GMT

LOVE

ablaze

Has taken a soft landing

in my heart...

Once broken and cracking

Manifesting as migraines.
Hardened by
mistakes
resentment
unforgiveness
self help
yoga
feng shui
poor choices
Wrong turns and
Forbidden fruits consumed that consumed me...
unknowingly
PLEAD- FLEE EVIL in the name of the Most High
WRESTLE - TAKE THESE THORNS FORM MY HEAD
DELIVER ME
Out in legions,
Bent over, wailing, retching, writhing- convulsing
But held by my daddy- loved.
Evil cannot prevail
The doors are closed
Angelically painted red with blood
But the hole? Refill the hole with LOVE
Hallelujah! All PRAISE on high!
Mended heart ...
stronger still
at peace at last
Stitched together with a holy needle and thread of blood
The gaping chasm left from
Dabbles on dangerous ground
Forever filled with fluttering wings
Of the spirit of holy fire
May it burn ablaze until kingdom come... and come...and comes

Jen is a Kingdom citizen, homeschooling mom, writer and photographer living between Juno Beach, Florida and a suitcase on the road with her amazing husband and two boys. When she's not on the road traveling, she can be seen beach combing in pursuit of all God's treasures. Visit her reality at JenReyneri.com.

Advent: The Journey to Christmas (An Evangelical Perspective)

Fri, 24 Dec 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Movies often talk about the "magic" of Christmas, and I am beginning to rediscover the wonder of this time of year. It's all about anticipation. About the good things of God that have been promised to us. About hope and restoration. About change and the coming of better things. It is a season in which we believe anything is possible -- particularly that discouraging circumstances can, in fact, be redeemed.

Ultimately, this is a season about receiving "gifts" -- but not in the wrapping paper and ribbons sense of the word. Like George Bailey, we are reminded of the fact that we all have opportunities to live "a wonderful life" if we stop and take a moment to appreciate the relationships we have.

We evangelicals don't do a very good job of celebrating Advent, a practice of preparation for Christmas that many mainline Protestants and Catholics have been doing for quite some time now. I never really celebrated this time of the year (other than blowing lots of money on gifts). I never took time to think about the coming of the Christ child into the world and the significance of it. I never really prepared my heart for Christmas. That is, not until a few years ago.

A few things happened when I first moved to Nashville in 2006.

First, I joined a church -- a small fellowship of people who were committed to each other and to God, in both big and small ways. I needed that after spending the previous season without much a church home or family. It just so happened that this church celebrated Advent, a practice to which I was not accustomed. In fact, shortly after my beginning to attend Franklin Fellowship, we started lighting candles and reading prayers and scriptures out loud together. While that's the norm for many Christians around the world every Sunday, it was new and interesting and slightly uncomfortable for me.

Second, I started spending time with the homeless. Now, I will just tell you: if you want your whole notion of Christmas to get messed up, spend your December with people who have virtually nothing. It will open your eyes to all kinds of issues of materialism and self-centeredness and just plain greed (most of which, by the way, is in just you). I guarantee that it will humble your heart and increase your gratitude, come Christmas morning.

As I began to learn more about this season of preparation and meditation, I realized that Christmas is shallow without Advent. And I began to understand that the best way for me to reflect on the birth of Christ in a meaningful way was through intentional meditation and service.

Four years ago, I spent Christmastime with a community of homeless men and women who lived underneath a bridge. My friend Paul and I brought them blankets and clothes and candy canes (yes, even candy canes) from friends and coworkers who had donated them. The experience of growing to know and care for this community opened our eyes to a world neither of us had ever seen before and brought significance to a holiday that had, for the both of us, often run hollow.

Since that first Christmas in Music City, I've continued to find intentional ways to both be still and serve. The two, I've found, are essential if we are seeking to align our hearts with baby refugee born in a manger who would one day wander as a homeless man and be executed as a criminal.

Recently, I've fallen more in love with the liturgical calendar, growing to relish the respective seasons of waiting, death, and rebirth throughout the year. I love that Lent and Advent represent more than a moment, that they speak to the journey of life. One website put it this way:

Christmas is not meant to be an isolated day, but a festival of the Incarnation in the midst of the Church year. Christmas is only properly understood after having the preparation provided by Advent. In the midst of the secular excesses leading up to Christmas, Advent provides a welcome solace and an opportunity to continually re-orient ourselves to God's will as we expectantly wait with patriarchs, prophets, and kings for the true meaning of Christmas: the Incarnation of God the Son.

As we near Christmas, I'm reminded of what a gift this season of waiting truly is. As someone who used to celebrate December 25, often placing impossible expectations on one day and then being disappointed with it, I have learned to embrace this entire season of coming. It's not just an arrival, I've found, that makes Christmas special; rather, it is the journey itself.

Without Christmas, Advent would be meaningless. Without a destination, we would never embark on a journey in the first place. The final arrival gives value and meaning to the trip. But without Advent, Christmas would be superficial and hollow. (This is the revelation that is really striking me these days.)

In United States, we know this all too well. We are inundated with shopping sprees and meaningless festivities that are quite hard to connect with the biblical account of Christ's birth. A day like Christmas holds little meaning for us anymore, and some are forced to invent traditions to recapture some of the mystery of the season. We have focused on the destination, while neglecting the journey.

We need both Advent and Christmas. Together. The two are kissing cousins. Both are essential to understanding the coming of the Christ child into the world and the significance of it to us. Each needs the other, and we need both of them. However, I'm convinced that many of us need to recapture the importance of taking a spiritual journey more than just relishing in the act of arriving through the observance of a moment.

What do you think about Advent? How do you prepare for Christmas?

*Photo appears courtesy of Malene Thyssen.

She Doesn't Know that She is an Orphan Yet

Thu, 23 Dec 2010 00:00:00 GMT

From South Africa:

She doesn't know it yet, but her mother is dead and her father is not around. In fact, no one knows who her father is. She has beautiful brown eyes, and skin and hair.

She is four months old now, and has been living at the private orphanage we've been working with this month for her entire life. But she won't be able to stay forever.

Her grandmother won't sign her over to be adopted, instead opting to have her raised in an orphanage, so she can visit when she feels like it.

When being the operative word. She is in limbo right now. She isn't given up or taken in.

Good thing she doesn't know.

These comforting walls will eventually be replaced by a large white washed concrete group home. These caring hands will be replaced by who knows what. Her warm crib could become a cot, or a tile floor.

Will she be hugged?

Will they tell her she is beautiful?

Will they hold her when she cries?

Will she ever know that she is loved.

Will she ever know God?

She doesn't know it yet, but heartache is coming. Yet, while she is within an arms reach of me, no matter for how long, she will stay wrapped warmly and fed regularly, cuddled and coddled and cooed at. Because for now, she's here.

And now is what really matters.

Stacey is a graduate of Belmont University and is currently on the World Race.

Hunger and God: Lessons Learned While Digging Through the Trash

Thu, 23 Dec 2010 00:00:00 GMT

The way they grab for food with their grubby hands, dirt under their fingernails, it aggravates me.

I was squeezing a package of black refried beans into the pan - kind of like how one rolls up the tube of toothpaste to ensure every ounce is used.

Pleased with my thorough squeezing technique, I tossed it toward the trashcan. Josue intercepted it. He motioned if he could have it. I shrugged. Really, could he get much more out of it? If he could just wait a little longer he was going to get a huge plate full.

Later that afternoon, I saw the black bean package again. It had been forgotten, thrown to the ground outside. This time it was ripped to a flat sheet of plastic - no longer a bag - licked clean.

I confess, I get angry when these boys grab at food in the kitchen, when they demand more food or juice. After making the menu for the week and the grocery list and accounting for just the right number of bananas, bread slices, pasta and rice, etc - I'm a bit of a little general in the kitchen.

The grocery store is at least an hour away. But then I have to remind myself that these aren't normal teenage boys. "Don't they trust me that I'll give them a plate of food in just a minute?" Trust. They don't know what trust is.

They usually don't get food unless they dig for it - in the trash. They don't know their father. Their mom used to be a prostitute and now is in and out with a boyfriend that lives in the dump. Their home has three walls. If they were to say they were hungry, who would they tell? If their mom was around, she'd probably tell them to go dig.

I've never hungered like they have. They don't have a mom or dad who plan well-balanced meals, make sure they brush their teeth, take a bath and wash behind their ears. The only shower they get is when they visit us at the farm, which is a slow, cold trickle.

God showed me this week myself in the boys. I do the same thing those boys do. Not trust. Stock up because I don't know when I'll get a "taste of America" again or a reminder of home.

And beyond that... emotionally I do the same thing those boys do. Their actions represent my jealousy. I envy a friend with a plan for his life or a friend who is getting married - thinking that my God has forgotten me.

I'm jealous of a God-encounter that a teammate has or the way God speaks so clearly to someone, thinking that God is holding back on me. That He favors them more than me. I don't trust that my God is good 100% of the time.

I worry about the future.

I'm acting like I don't have a good Father who has a good plan for me, who loves me. I'm trying to write my own story, grab my own "food" - often from the trash. He does know best. And He's asking me, "don't you trust me, I have something better for you. A big, well-balanced plate full."

The truth is God IS good 100% of the time. He hasn't forgotten me. He isn't out to rip me off. He has a plan for me.

He isn't ripping you off either, my friend. He has a good, good plan for you.

Will we trust Him?

Will we not hoard our food, our things for fear of what the future holds - or doesn't hold?

Will we not hoard happiness and good things to ourselves but instead trust that our God is a good, loving Father who gives good gifts at the perfect time?

He hasn't forgotten us.

Ginger grew up on a ranch in South Florida, and you will rarely find her without a camera. This story is an excerpt from her travel blog.

Getting Back the Wonder of Christmas (and Life)

Thu, 23 Dec 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Christmas time.

Every year, for a short period of time, our inner child is given permission to come out of their room. This time of year, the lights are brighter, and the fragrances call up memories deeply imprinted in our hearts. This time of year, our yards are Hallmark cards, and our love is a black-and-white movie.

Jesus is born and a Child is King.

Some of the most likable and fascinating people I know are those that have retained this sense of childlike wonder beyond the season.

In our educational system and in our churches, this sense of wonder seems to be starched, ironed, and conjugated right out of us. The wonder of God inventing light, matter, water, and companionship becomes a "story."

The brilliance of a sunset, the "bigness" of things, the vastness of space and the need to see every side of something, to take it all apart; is left in exchange for "growing up."

I'm not saying that maturity is not something to be reached and earned, only that wonder is almost as rare as seeing a man take responsibility for his actions. Some of the best and most-loved entertainers and businesspeople have been people that stayed in touch with their "inner child."

This Christmas can be a time when you reconnect with your own innocence and creativity: an act of worship where we take our place in the Universe under the guiding hand of a massive Creator who stuffed his greatness into human form as a baby to demonstrate his love for us.

Where wonder is alive and a Child is King.

The impossible is realized. Wonder is alive.

Zach is a painfully normal teen guy and author of Be the Change, Generation Change, and Lose Your Cool. You can visit him online here.

A Simple Story: Jesus, Dinner, and Brazilian Tourists

Wed, 22 Dec 2010 00:00:00 GMT

From Cambodia:

Just as we were about to get up from the table and grab a tuk tuk home, I heard a small voice ask, "Buy my book?"

I've probably heard that almost as often as I've heard "Tuk Tuk? Moto?" this month. Which could be up to a hundred times a day, depending on how long I'm out in public.
The deep red and dark orange lights in the restaurant were glowing dimly.
I looked at his face and he smirked. He asked again, "Buy my book?"

I asked what his name was.

Ani.
Ani is a wise-guy. First he was 12, then he was 17 born in '93.
I'm not sure why, but all of the children say that they are 12 whether they look 18 or 6.
Telling a tourist that you were born in '93 is also a common lie-- because that makes them just above the illegal age for a child to be working. He told us that he works from 7am to midnight.
I told him I did not want to buy his book to which he responded, "I'm very hungry."

It took at least eight minutes to convince him to sit and eat with us, mostly because there were four men watching him from outside the restaurant. They gawked in at Ani as he sat down reluctantly with four white strangers. He sat down, then he'd get up again, go outside, talk to one of the men, then come back inside and sit down. This probably happened at least 30 times from the moment I ordered him his favorite meal: Tom Yam Soup and a Coke, until the moment he finished eating.

Our conversation was funny. He talked about his hungry family, about playing soccer, and about his work. He was very nervous, and we knew he was lying at least 90% of the time.
I just wanted to know the truth.

I wanted to know who those men were. I asked them, and they just walked away.
I wanted to know who he worked for.
I wanted to know what would happen if he didn't sell any books.
I wanted to know how old he really was, and if he really went to school.
I wanted to know who those men worked for.

I just wanted to know how it all worked.
I didn't want to hurt anyone or turn anyone in-- but there was no way this kid was going to trust me or give me any accurate information.

So we just enjoyed dinner.
We laughed and he ate, and then he left.

My life is full of moments like that. Moments where I am sitting at the same table as the injustices that my heart breaks for. Moments where I want to be able to love deeply and maybe even be a part of changing someone's life... instead... we just sit there and laugh together.

***

When he left, a Swiss man, probably in his late 50's leaned over from the table to our right and asked me, "Are you married?"
I was baffled for a moment and then repeated his question, "Am I married?"
"No, I don't care if you're married. Are you American?"
"Oh!" I laughed with relief, "Yes, we are Americans."

He and a stunning Brazilian woman pulled up chairs and joined us for a while. They are on an amazing trip- going from Vienna to Brazil in a year. Their goal is to get there without ever having gotten on a plane. So far, they've experienced a lot. We talked about travel, culture, life, and love. We told them about encountering God's love and how desperately we believe in the hope He has to offer to the world, but they didn't have much to say about that. The conversation was rich and wonderful. They said one thing though that warmed my heart. They told us that there was "something different about us; that much was obvious."

We didn't spout off the gospel to make sure they knew it was the "Jesus" in us. We didn't have to rattle off scripture because we just... well, we were Jesus.

No one was rescued from child trafficking. No one said the sinners prayer.
But three people were loved. Just like Jesus loves them.
You might not think that's worth very much, and that's fine. But I happen to think it's the most important thing there is.

"Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat."
-Mother Teresa

Tiffany is from California. She is currently on the World Race, ministering in 11 different countries in 11 months with Adventures In Missions. You can find out more about her here.

Coffee with Carlos Whittaker: Church and Christian Music According to a Ragamuffin Soul

Tue, 14 Dec 2010 00:00:00 GMT

"Experience architect" is what he said when I asked Carlos Whittaker what he considered his vocation to be, as we got to know each other over coffee at local Nashville joint Fido. Apparently, that includes being a worship pastor, blogger, musician, event planner, and church staff member, because he's worn all of those hats in the past several years.

You might remember Whittaker from his viral YouTube video "Single Ladies Devastation" that won him internet and TV news acclaim earlier this year. But Los is a lot more than a "mean dad" who makes his three year-old son cry for dancing to a harmless Beyonce song. Whittaker just came out with "Ragamuffin Soul", the record inspired by the content of his blog, which share's the record's namesake. Ragamuffin Soul is a collection of songs that have been the soundtrack for his blog-based ministry over the years.

Los is a true creative, an artist through and through -- always fascinated with the next endeavor he can use to express himself and his deepest beliefs. While he's currently touring and planning the next record for his music career, he is, at the same time, already thinking about another project. He wants to film a documentary. What I loved about our discussion was his free-spiritedness, his continual desire for greater creativity. He readily admits that pursuing music, while a passion of his, is just the season in which he finds himself for now.

With nearly 25,000 tweets to his name, Carlos lives for social media (you can follow him on Twitter and connect with him on Facebook), but not in a antisocial way. For him, social media is just an excuse to get together with people for real-life, social interactions. If you send him a message, he -- not some college-age record label intern or marketing professional -- is going to reply to you. Los is a people person, and relationships -- real, flesh-and-blood relationships -- matter to him.

Apparently, this "strategy" is paying off for him, because he booked his entire summer tour in about five minutes by asking his followers and friends for help. (In fact, while he was in town for our meeting, he needed to borrow a guitar for a gig earlier that day; within a few minutes of sharing his need on Twitter, he had a guitar.) Any time Carlos does a radio or TV interview, he'll see if any of his online friends are up for an informal meetup -- whether it's pancakes or sandwiches. He sincerely loves connecting with people; these are his friends, not mere fans. (I was impressed that he remembered my face from my Twitter avatar, since I am but one of nearly 20,000.)

Not only a worship leader, Los is a passionate worshiper. He cares deeply about the things that God cares about (including widows and orphans) and wants other ministry professionals to do the same. "I tell worship leaders all the time: 'Unless you're leading worship for the rest of the week [and not just on Sunday], you're not a worship leader,'" shared in our interview. According to him, you can't do something for 50 minutes a week and say that that such an activity defines you. If you want it to define you (as in the case of many worship leaders), then you need to do it (i.e. worship) every day.

Whittaker's online voice has established a platform that made it possible for him to launch a music career. He has a natural ability to draw people in and make them feel comfortable. And whether it's with the "Single Ladies" video that he used to share about his family's adoption or an LA Ink episode he was on in which he gets a sleeve tattoo of the apostle Paul, he always manages to leverage the spotlight to point people to God.

In Ragamuffin Soul, Los takes the themes of his life and puts them to music, partnering with the songwriting genius of Jason Ingram, to craft heartfelt, honest confessions of faith, struggles, and God's goodness. Los toured with Jeremy camp and John Mark McMillan this fall and is visiting churches and conferences this winter to play his music. To find out more about Ragamuffin Soul by Carlos Whittaker, visit the music section of his website or check him out on Myspace.

For more on the Ragamuffin Soul album, watch this Electronic Press Kid (EPK) video:

What Christian Mystics Know That You Don't

Mon, 13 Dec 2010 00:00:00 GMT

There is nothing mysterious about the word "mystical." Mystical means simply having an experience beyond the five senses. When you experience love, it is an example of a mystical experience. When you feel a presence within you when you pray or meditate, that is a mystical experience. The feeling you get when you open to a consciousness that is much deeper or higher than you are used to is a mystical experience.

A mystical experience changes you at the very core of your being. What you used to know and think has been replaced with something higher and more profound than you could think up with your mind.

When an emotional problem is healed in you or lifted from you, it is difficult to conceive of how that happens. Yet, many people have had the experience of not being troubled about a particular fear or condition any longer. The problem or illness just went away.

Others have felt a Cosmic presence of the Divine and have been moved to tears or released from a burden that is often unexplainable to the conscious mind. Experiences like this are what mystics experience every day. To the average observer, these experiences are extraordinary and rare.

But more and more people are reporting experiences similar to what the mystics of past times have written about.

The Christian mystics are dedicated to precisely these kinds of experiences that cannot be scientifically proven but are mystically known and understood. Their experiences of God within and other manifestations of the Divine Being, like light in and around the body, healings of various physical ailments and profound peace filling the heart and mind, are common and normal.

The experience of the Christ Consciousness has other names in different religious traditions. But they have the same transformative effect on the recipient in all cultures: joy, liberation from the constraints of the physical world, and profound love and peace filling the person and emanating out to others. Real spiritual experience brings true wisdom.

A Christian mystic is filled with the presence of Christ or, more universally, the love of God fills their soul and shines through their being. Most saints and sages regardless of their backgrounds are mystics. They have peered into the inner world in meditation, devotion and prayer and have had the experience of being embraced by the Being of God that resides within each person.

Whether a person believes in such things or not, the mystics see God within and know that everyone has this Divine center within them. It is not an opinion or a belief, as mystics are not that interested in such things. Real experience brings real transformation and complete change to a human being. This is why those who really know carry such a presence of peace that flows through them.

The mystics and saints are the ones who have moved the consciousness of the world and opened the hearts of those seeking to the truth that God is within.

What do you think about Christian mysticism?

Peter is a nationally known speaker, lecturing in a different city nearly every weekend of the year. He is the author of four books and is a singer/songwriter of Mystical Christian folk music, now recording his 12th album.

Sex, Lies, and Religion by Randy Elrod

Tue, 7 Dec 2010 00:00:00 GMT

What relationship do sex and spirituality have with each other? In his book Sex, Lies, and Religion, Randy Elrod explores this question.

As a worship leader and artist (he's what his friends call a "Renaissance man"), Randy's personally seen how evangelical Christians are particularly fascinated with the more "sensual" experiences of spirituality. But this yearning, he argues, is a universal desire for everyone.

Randy has a history of involvement with charismatic churches, a fact that he related to me over coffee one morning. This idea of writing a book about sex and God first came to him when he was sharing this fact with someone, and the person asked if he ever noticed the tendency of Pentecostal Christians to be more prone to sexual sin. That got him thinking: Is this true? If so, why?

Sex, Lies, and Religion (similar to Rob Bell's Sex God) posits that sex and spirituality are not competitors, but different sides of the same coin. That is, both involve the mystery of yada (unfortunately, not a Seinfeld reference) -- the Hebrew word for intimately "being known." After all, isn't that what we are all searching for?

But this is more than just a book about the links between spirituality and sexuality. Elrod also explores issues of sexual dysfunction (including pornography), the challenges of having a strong sex drive, and healthy sexuality expressed in marriage. He even goes into detail (somewhat scandalously, one might argue, for a "Christian" book), regarding his personal sex life.

This, however, is far from inappropriate, if you believe what Randy believes about sex -- that it is an expression of our deepest longing to worship, to know and be known by another, and to even connect with God.

One question that he asks the reader, nay challenges, her with is this: "Have you ever had an experience with God that was so amazing it exceeded your wildest and most fulfilling sexual moment?" It may be a bit risque, but the implicit answer is a resounding "no" for most Christians. And if what Randy says about sex is true -- that it is connected to our spirituality -- then this is sad. Conversely, if we have had sexual experiences that we're not also worshipful ones, then this is equally tragic.

Yes, Randy Elrod is aiming to provoke with Sex, Lies, and Religion. He wants to stir the pot up a little -- especially for people of conservative faith -- challenging them to think outside the traditional boxes in which we all often place our sexuality and spirituality. But he also wants to offer a place of healing for those whose sexuality has been misused and abused for the cause of religion; he wants to redeem the lies that some of us have believed about sex.

More than anything, he wants to start a conversation. So, let's begin.

Have you seen the link between sexuality and spirituality in your own life? If so, how?

The Next Christians

Wed, 1 Dec 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Co-author of UnChristian Gabe Lyons has a new book called The Next Christians. Publishers Weekly describes the book in the following:

[Lyons'] ...newest book aims to "restore" U.S. evangelicalism by elevating a generation of leaders marked by six traits suitable for a postmodern, pluralistic, post-Christian America.

Evangelicals will need to be "provoked, not offended; creators, not critics; called, not employed; grounded, not distracted; in community, not alone; and countercultural, not relevant."

As I browsed through the book at Barnes and Noble, I was compelled to sit down and read a chapter. The idea of Christ-followers being provoked to act without being offended was immediately compelling to me, and when I came across the section on being creators of culture and not merely critics of it, I was hooked.

Lyons' basic argument in The Next Christians is God's mission is to restore the earth, that Christ came to redeem the world, not condemn it. And in that pursuit of redemption and reconciliation, the Creator is calling the church to creatively participate with him.

Lyons implies that evangelicals have, in part, missed the important fact that "Christ's redemptive work is not the end or even the goal of our stories; redemption is the beginning of our participation in God's work of restoration in our lives and the world."

I like the idea of evangelicals (who are often known as opponents of culture) as "creators, not critics"; the concept is reminiscent of Andy Crouch's term "culture making." In fact, Crouch and Lyons collaborated on the book Culture Making, which posits that Christians need to move from merely reacting to the world to revealing a new way of living in culture.

For decades, the church has debated what it means for Christians to be "in the world, but not of it."

What would it mean for Christians to be creators of culture and not just critics of it?

Open Our Eyes: Seeing the Invisible People of Homelessness

Tue, 30 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Th following is an excerpt from the book Open Our Eyes by Kevin Hendricks, which is an effort to support Mark Horvath and the work that he does at InvisiblePeople.tv, where he tells real stories of American homelessness. All proceeds from the book go directly to Mark and Invisible People.

***

All homeless people are the stereotypical dirty, smelly, mentally unstable, alcoholics that you see at the exit ramp or under an overpass.

Not true. Families are homeless. Children are homeless. Babies are homeless. In fact, children account for nearly 40 percent of the homeless population in the United States. Families with children are the fastest growing segment of the homeless population - and those numbers are all pre-recession.

The stereotypical image of a homeless person is often what's considered chronic homelessness. In reality, 80 percent of the homeless find themselves in that situation temporarily. These are families, moms and dads, trying to provide for their kids and for whatever reason their options ran out. They had nowhere else to go. Forget the statistics and spend some time at InvisiblePeople.tv hearing their stories. You can hear the desperation in their voices.

This is the true voice of homelessness. It's not the raspy holler of the drunk on the corner asking for a handout, though he could use some help too.

We're talking about the voice of families. People with kids who have come to the end of their rope. An emergency strikes and they find themselves out on the streets. In many cases they bounce in and out of homelessness as one situation deteriorates and they just can't build up enough of a reserve to survive the next crisis. Some families have bounced around the country from job to job, last chance effort to last chance effort, and now find themselves in a new city with no friends or family to turn to. They end up in shelters.

So before you write off the homeless as the drunk on the corner or the guy in the park who talks to himself, remember that moms and dads, children and babies are homeless, too.

***

What's it like being a homeless mom? "It's really hard," says Gypsy.

She has two boys, a 10-year-old and a 3-year-old. Both have been sleeping with a friend for the past two months.

The 10-year-old is in school all day and she only sees him for five minutes a day. She gets to spend the day with her other son, but there's not much to do with a 3-year-old when you're homeless.

"Today we missed the free feeding because I had an appointment, so he's hungry," Gypsy says. But her friend will feed him tonight. Meanwhile Gypsy will have to get food from another meal service tonight.

A local church graciously purchased bus tickets so Gypsy and her boys can return home to Arizona in a few weeks.

***

"Every day is a struggle," says David, who lives in a homeless shelter with his wife Tish and their 15-month-old daughter Natasha. "We don't have any place like home to go to, so we make the best of what we have and the services that are offered here."

Right now, they're in the Prado Day Center in San Luis Obispo, Calif. They hope to get back on their feet and become a self-sufficient family.

"We try to be upbeat and help other people," David says. "When you help people, you get a lot of help back."

Both David and Tish are quick to point out that homelessness is not a disease. It's a situation that people fall into.

"We're homeless, we're not less human," says Tish. "Everybody is only one screwed up paycheck away from being right where we are."

"We're not looking for handouts or money or places to stay," says David. "Just a smile and treat us like normal people. We're just as normal as they are."

David and Tish are both former drug addicts and come from broken families. They're trying to put their lives back together and provide for their daughter, who is clearly the glue that holds them together.

"We're homeless, but we're happy and smiling today and that's because of our daughter," says David. "If we didn't have her I don't think we'd have the drive that we have to accomplish the things we want to accomplish."

Kevin lives in St. Paul, Minn., with his wife, kids and two dogs. He's a freelance writer, has been blogging since 1998 and recently published Addition by Adoption and Open Our Eyes. The above selections were taken, with permission, from the latter book, which you can buy here.

Blessed are the Poor (and Blind)

Mon, 29 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

Jesus has a hidden blessing for those who come to grips with their own spiritual bankruptcy and desperation. I've learned not to superimpose my expectations of myself onto other people, to not give in to the temptation of believing that my socioeconomic privileges (many of which I was born with) exist to simply provide me with comfort. Rather, they are reminders of the a painful reality.

They remind me of the fact that many in this world spend every day going without something while I live in excess.

In America, we live in a culture that very much embraces a "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" kind of lifestyle:

If you are poor, it's because you didn't work hard enough or made some bad life choices.

If you are crippled, perhaps it's because you were careless or prone to injury. Maybe you even deserved it.

If you are socially awkward, it's your own fault for not being more of a go-getter.

This is the broken, sinful mentality to which we all are prone.

In Jesus' day, there was a man who was blind, and all the religious people were wondering what sins he or his parents may have committed that would cause God to punish him in such a way. He told them that this wasn't the point of the man being born blind. He told them "shame on you" for thinking they had it figured out.

Christ rebuked those who could see for being truly blind in their hearts. He reserves the same rebuke for us who don't choose to see our own brokenness and own up to it when we face the faults of others.

The truth is that weak people make competent people feel uncomfortable. They make them uneasy, much like dirty people make "clean" people feel awkward.

Because they reveal something about them that they'd rather have hidden; the weak and dirty expose the own brokenness of the strong and clean.

They force us to face a fact that we'd rather not face: We are all broken.

Seeing someone's physical brokenness can be unsettling. Especially for someone who has worked hard to get to where she is in life. To have the house with the white picket fence and three-car garage. It can be easy to feel entitled to God's good graces, when you've really busted your hump to make something of yourself. And that's a dangerous place to be, spiritually.

Maybe that's why "we will always have the poor" -- to break this entitled attitude that comes to those of us who have experience God's grace in a material way, to help us realize our utter dependence on the giver of all good things.

I know that this sense of entitlement, this spiritual sickness, is alive and well in the world. Because I have felt it and often feel it. In myself.

I'm not content with seeing with my own eyes, any more. I'm tired of these eyes of judgment and self-justification. Of impatience and contempt for weakness. My own self-righteousness has left me exhausted and thirsty for something more. No, I'm not interested in seeing any more... not like I used to.

No, I'd rather be blind...

And have Jesus heal me.

Counterfeit Freedoms and Securities

Tue, 23 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I have been realizing in my life lately that there is a huge difference between the counterfeit freedoms, securities, comforts, and wealth of the world, and the true ones offered by Christ. The problem lies not in that they are different, but that their difference is one of perception and reality.

We perceive externally that people driving nice cars with large houses and bank accounts have freedom, security, wealth, and comfort, because we have been conditioned to perceive the external appearance of these as a sign of the true, internal presence of them.

I am realizing how false this is.

We are so surrounded by the world, its values and paradigms that it is difficult for us to divorce our thinking and world views from the values we see expressed around us.

We rely on our sight and perceptions as measures of truth instead of trusting in the Word of God or his Spirit to measure those. True Freedom, True Security, True Comfort, and True Wealth are found in Christ and in him alone.

True freedom is not found in external conditions of the ability to make choices, go places, and follow our thoughts and desires with no inhibitions.

True freedom is found at the Cross and liberates us regardless of external situations.

The inmate in solitary confinement who has found Christ and abides in Him has more freedom than the Donald Trumps, Bill Gates, and Warren Buffets. He is free in his confinement, because the freedom is found completely outside of the limitations of the physical universe. His Spirit can soar with Christ, wallowing in oceans of joy because of the infinite value of Christ removes all of the perceived, physical limitations.

The circumstances of confinement cannot contain the Christ-abider because the world was created in, and through, and for Christ-- with no limitations whatsoever.

True security: is not found in armored cars, alarm systems, hired bodyguards, and political peace, it is found in Christ. Being secure in Christ means that He is caring for you with infinite love and immortal sovereignty. He works all things according to the counsel of His will. He works all things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. Being secure in the power and care of God's sovereign rule over the world means that no physical danger or injury, no harm, no death, nothing can come to you but what God has allowed or ordained in His infinite love and wisdom.

True comfort: is not found in plush seating, expensive limos, 1st class tickets, and Armani suits. It transcends the physical expression of comfort to an inward satisfaction and peace in Christ. Comfort can be sitting on a hard cement floor because you are sitting there with the Master in His arms.

Comfort can be living on the streets trusting in the good and merciful sovereignty of God. Comfort can be an uncomfortable situation with chronic pain where your only solace comes in crying out to Christ for the grace and strength to hold on until He releases you from the terminal cancer.

True wealth: is not measured by numbers, accounts, land holdings, or status symbols. Wealth is measured by having and valuing what is Truly valuable. A person with diamonds and gold galore yet uses them for door stops and paper weights is not wealthy. Wealth is measured by both possession and value.

To be wealthy we must not only possess what is truly valuable (Christ) but we must value it supremely as it merits. Using a diamond as a paperweight and door stop doesn't diminish the value of the diamond, it reveals the poverty of the owner because he is not valuing the valuable. Christ is unequivocally the most valuable thing we could ever conceive, and our wealth is measured in how much we recognize and treasure Him.

Our indifference to Christ does nothing to diminish His value or glory, but our wealth is measured in our value of Him. If you want to be the wealthiest person in the world, then treasure Him more than anyone else in existence and you shall be.

Wilson enjoys being forgiven by Jesus, reading, and mixed martial arts.

Poem: Dance on the Water

Tue, 23 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

You're the best dance partner
leading me to spin on air

Even waltzing on still water

without a single care

I'm a prince or princess

promised just to you

Lift me up, oh Jesus

to live and dance for You

And when the dance is over

I'll rest my head on your shoulder

Whisper my love and prayers

holding you close beside me

Without a single care

The (Christian) Political Asylum

Tue, 23 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Christians are insane. I'll get back to that in a second.

For now, allow me to give you some background. I've been working on a political campaign for the past few months. During this time, I've encountered some pretty crazy situations, and even crazier people. However, perhaps the most astonishing realization I made didn't have anything to do with my candidate or his opponent. No, that honor goes out to all the Christians out there who have political opinions.

If you're a "politically active" Christian, in other words, you not only manage to vote, you actually do a little research ahead of time-I'm talking to you.

If you are who I think you are, you fall neatly into one of two groups. Group A favors smaller, more efficient government. Group B favors bigger, more bureaucratic government. Society labels group A "conservatives," and group B "liberals."

This is where things get interesting. Like I stated earlier, Christians are insane.

It seems to me that the "conservatives" out there are confused about what they believe. Why? It has something to do with the fact that they despise any growth of government, yet they seem drawn to larger, more bureaucratic churches.

Liberals, you're guilty too! You guys seem to like bigger government, but when it comes to ecclesiology, big becomes synonymous with evil.

Christians are insane. What's the deal?

It seems to me that if you are in favor of smaller, more efficient government, this philosophy should apply to the church world as well. Inversely, if you believe in bigger government, you should also favor bigger, more centralized church structures.

Where's the consistency? It's one thing to have an opinion, but to simultaneously advocate two mutually exclusive ideas is nothing short of insane.

It's time to escape the asylum.

Tim is a writer hoping that somehow, someway, his work will influence the world in a positive way. He is currently an undergraduate student at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Has God Abandoned Us?

Mon, 15 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Sometimes, life goes by, and new moments amaze us every day. We see God in everything we do, wherever it is that we find ourselves. We feel his presence close by, nearer than our next breath. Even when difficult circumstances come during these times, we trust God. He shows up in miraculous ways; in ravens coming to feed us, in raising the dead to life, and in consuming fire.

In these moments, we declare him "Lord," and say that he is good, and full of love for us.

Sometimes, however, life is not good. Sometimes, it's a losing battle just to crawl out from under the covers in the morning. Sometimes, the words someone speaks, or doesn't speak, hit a fracture point in our hearts, and we're left bleeding out on the floor, desperately trying to reassemble the pieces. We scream out to God for help, comfort, understanding, anything, and yet perceive that he is silent.

In these cold, empty, broken moments, we forget everything we ever knew of God, and say that he doesn't care, doesn't see, or is simply indifferent to our pain.

I wonder how much this must break God's heart, to see our profound lack of faith in him.

He never promised us an easy road, with comfortable rest stops along the way. He did say, however, that the road he called us on would be hard. It would be narrow, winding, steep, and difficult. And along that whole road, we would be carrying an old wooden cross. This paints a different, rather bleak picture of what our walk looks like.

He promises us something else, as well. He promises to walk along that road with us, to guide us, to pick us up when we fall. This should give us incredible courage and strength. By ourselves, we stare up the steep slope of circumstance, and see only the angle of the hill, the thorns that line its sides, and the darkness that encroaches all around. With him by our side, we still see all of this, but with courage, we are able to turn to the darkness, and sing hope into the night, and at last see dawn break over the hill.

I can almost hear what God must be saying when we think he's abandoned us.

"Abandoned you? My child, don't you see? I was never more than a step away. To abandon you would be to contradict my very essence, my being. I am faithful, and I do not change. When words sliced through you, and left you raw and bleeding, I was there, putting my palms over the wounds to slow the bleeding.

"When your heart shattered, I was there, among the wreckage, starting to rebuild. Instead of focusing on me, you focused on the pool of blood you saw on the floor, and on the way that you wanted to put your heart together. You tried to take control, forgetting that I only want what is best.

"Then, you say that because you've fallen, and failed, I must love you less. You know so little, my child! Nothing, absolutely nothing in this entire world that you have done, or are doing, or will do, will make me love you any less. You are mine, bought by the precious blood of my Son, Jesus, holy and righteous in my sight.

"When you fall, I will pick you up again. When your world turns upside down, I will be there to set it right. When you cry, I will be there to wipe the tears away. And when you finally reach the end of the road I have placed you on, I will be there to welcome you into the place that is your home, that I have prepared for you since before time began."

If we truly understood this to be the heart of God, I think that we would be much less concerned with our circumstances, and we would instead be full of thanksgiving. No matter where we are at, he is there with us.

This should be an incredible source of comfort to those that call themselves his people. We should be the most joyful, thankful people in the world, once we have actually grasped hold of this truth. When our joy is then on display for the world to see, we will be markedly different from the world in which we live. Then, perhaps, the world will take a look at the good news of the King's domain, when we, the children of the King, begin to live in the hope to which he has called us.

Lacey is a writer from Calgary, Alberta Canada. She uses her writing to show people the amazing wonder of God.

Stop The Candy Shop: A Review

Mon, 15 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

4,500 people gathered the other night at the Fox Theatre in downtown Atlanta, Georgia. It just wasn't any crew of 4,500 people though. It was thousands of revolutionaries who are going to change the face of history in Atlanta.

And I'm not just saying that.

I was incredibly blessed to be able to attend the premier of Whitestone Motion Pictures' film The Candy Shop. This 30-minute film is about the commercial sexual exploitation of children, specifically in Atlanta. It runs under the guise of a fairytale, sort of a "Willy Wonka meets the Mafia," as Brandon McCormick, founder of Whitestone and executive producer of The Candy Shop, put it.

Whitestone partnered with Street Grace, a ministry dedicated to eradicating human trafficking inside of Atlanta (and ultimately throughout the world). The best part is that Brandon announced last night that 100% of the profits from The Candy Shop are going directly to Street Grace.

Folks, that's going to be a ton of money.

Yet, the most inspiring part of the night wasn't just the film, nor was it just the speakers. It wasn't even the fact that we were in the Fox Theatre, which was incredible. The most inspiring part of that night was that there are 4,500 less ignorant people walking the streets.

See, one of the biggest realities I've faced since becoming passionate about abolishing human trafficking is that, well, people are ignorant. So many people don't realize the size of this problem. Here are some quick facts:

Over 500 under-aged girls are trafficked for commercial sex acts in Atlanta every month.
28,000 men purchase sex in Atlanta every month.
18,000 of those men are regulars.

Those are just a few facts. Just a few.

What I like is that there are 4,500 people now - every single person with some kind of influence - who has ammunition. They've caught the vision. And they've caught the vision in one of the biggest cities in the world for the commercial sexual exploitation of children.

I want to encourage you to get involved. Check out the "Stop the Candy Shop" website and view the film when it comes out in December. Exercise influence where you have influence and be an advocate.

It's as easy as opening your mouth.

Matt currently lives in Gainesville, GA and is traveling overseas in January 2011 to combat the issue of human trafficking with the World Race and Adventures In Missions. You can follow his journey here.

Touching the Hem of Jesus' Garment

Sun, 14 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Just one touch..." I thought to myself, "Just one touch and I will be whole again."

The sweaty bodies press in one me. I feel a heavy foot land crushingly on mine. I wince while dislodging my foot from under the other and continue moving forward. The crowd is loud and the voices come to my ears in pieces.

"Lord, my brother..."
"My daughter..."
"My wife..."
"Master, my son..."
"...friend..."
"My cousin..."

All of these people have come on behalf of some ill-ridden person. For someone who cannot come on their own. Yet, I am here. I am here in the crazed mob after this one person we have all heard about. We have all heard the same rumors. The blind can see. The lame are dancing. The leper is welcomed back with his smooth complexion/ We have all heard and are now trying to receive the same for our loved ones, but I have come for myself. I have come to be healed and made whole.

For years, I have been in loss. Hemorrhaging essential nutrients of life. Money spent trying to be made whole again. Every avenue searched to stop the loss. Doctors called. All for nothing. Everyday, I am left drained. I can feel it leaving my being as I am jostled from side to side by the gargantuan soul next to me. The hairs on his arm rub against my fragile body. I can feel it draining...

Everyday for years, my hope has left. It has dripped out of me from my finger and toes. It has poured out of my chest with every new discovery that disappointed me further. My heart began to pump less and less with each revelation.

My soul seemingly shrunk like a raisin in the sun as dreams were deferred and my reality became a nightmare. No strength to keep going as that seemed to be another piece of me being released into oblivion. I would go on with the daily routine barely a player in my own acts. Day after day, I lost. Day after day, hemorrhaging. I was becoming less and less me. I was becoming less and less of a whole person.

Realizing I am unsure if the crowd is bringing me to my desired outcome, I push my way towards a ledge that jjutted out from an adjacent building. Pulling myself up, I begin to feel dizzy. My abandoning life force causes me to be lightheaded most of the time. I concentrate on my breathing and ever so slowly drag myself onto the ledge. I am vertical and am able to see over the crowd. I scan and see a group that seems to be the epicenter of this frenzy. Light headed for a different reason, my eyes find the answer to my prayers.

I had heard of him like everyone else had. There were the whispers in family gatherings about a man who goes against seemingly basic understanding. Challenges to the Pharisees spread like wildfire throughout our small village. His miracles were well known and something inside me spoke when I would hear about him.

"Just touch him. Just grab the corner of his cloak. Just graze the outermost part of him and you will be healed. You will be restored. You will be made whole. You won't be a remnant any longer. Just believe and go."

This voice pushed me into my current situation. I leap forward in my own weak way and continue forward. Wedging into spaces between others from distant countries. I side step next to a haggard mother and a scarlet faced terror. I cover my ears as the terror scream continuously for comfort. I somehow am so close. I see him through a gap in shoulders and I lurch through. His followers are trying to keep some space between him and the masses, but they are failing. I am so close, but the proximity has made moving exponentially harder. The heat. The smells of sweaty people. The pressure. The hemorrhaging. I begin to feel helpless and hopeless. I close my eyes and tears of utter despair roll down my face. The voice returns, "You are so close. Keep going. Your healing is at hand. Don't be content. Push harder. Just one touch."

My mind takes over the saying, "Just one touch. Just one touch and I will be whole again." With renewed vigor, I move. Somehow space opens in a direct path towards him. I get within an inch of him. I stretch out my arm with my mantra playing in my head, "Just one touch. Just one touch." As I get close, a rude hand makes contact with my back upsetting my balance and sending me to the ground.

Knees bruised. Hands scratched. I lift my chin and stare directly forward to see a clear space between the dusty legs of travelers to my savior, Jesus. I crawl forward and barely touch his garment with the pads of my fingers. The flow of loss stopped instantly when my fingers grazed his presence, but a whole new floodgate was opened.

Joy like a lightening bolt flashed through different parts of my body simultaneously. I lifted myself off the ground quickly, but without the well known feeling of dizziness that has accompanied that action for years. I lift my hands and face to the sun, laughing uncontrollably. Then, I noticed that the crowd had ceased moving.

He was searching. Jesus was searching and saying, "Someone has touched me. I felt some of my power leave me." His eyes land on me for a long second before moving on. Guilt settles on my shoulders and I fall on my knees in front of him proclaiming my healing and my story. Confessing my wantings and how he has granted me what I needed. There isn't a tear because there is no more pain and I can feel his smile as he says, "Daughter, you took a risk trusting me and now you're healed and whole. Live well. Live blessed."

And I did...

Samantha is a 23 year-old teacher who recently followed God into the desert, literally -- roughing it out in Dubai where inspiration for lessons are everywhere.

I Knew Africa Would Be Different: A Missionary Encounters Desperation

Sat, 13 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I knew that Africa would be different. I knew from the bus ride, the dusty landscape, and the few people I had met, that this place would change me. Three days in, and it has already come true.

Covered in two days of dust, and five sleepless nights, we were crusading on the top of a mountain range in southern Malawi, in a small village called Namileme. At the end of our first night of prayer, preaching and worship, we were asked to pray for the crowd and their illnesses. One by one, they lined up before us in cues. I can honestly say, I did not know what to expect.

There were all kinds of maladies to pray for, from headaches, to back pain, fertility, and coughs. There was numbness and arthritis, broken bones and sores. There were requests to do better in school or for more intelligence, or for a husband or wife. And then there was her.

She was small, and beautiful. Probably 8 years old, with wide set brown eyes. She wore a stained gray cotton dress that had turned orange at the bottom edges from the clay roads. That is all about her physical features I can recall.

She meekly approached me, head hung low. Wanangwa, one of the pastors that has been acting as a translator for us, asked her what she needed prayer for. She responded in Chichewa, their native language, and her words were so quiet, I couldn't hear her voice. She leaned in close to him and whispered as if it were the most special of secrets, her small hands cupping his earlobe. His nodded his head, and he walked her slowly by the small of her back to right in front of me.

He spoke to me in bold English something I was not prepared for, "She has a hole in her throat. When she drinks water, it comes out of her neck and down her chest." My brain stopped working for a second, trying to catch up to the sentence. But there was just no way to comprehend it. He turned to walk away, but I grabbed him quickly by his right hand. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" He repeated patiently, "there is a hole, in her neck. She can not drink water very well." He pointed to his throat in case it was his English I wasn't understanding.

I fell to my knees to see if what he was talking about was even possible, and underneath her perfect tiny brown chin, and perfect little pink mouth, was a crescent moon slit about five inches long, from jaw to jaw, mostly scarred over, except in the middle where there was a hole. It was thick around the edges, and looked as though it had healed that way. Either my eyes struggled to send the signal, or my brain would not receive it, I just went to blackout. In a moment that seemed like an eternity, I tried to comprehend how someone could have cut her , and how she could have lived through it. But there was nothing. And the world got so small.

All I could think of was that I wanted to take her to a doctor. Forget the prayer, forget everything, she needed medical attention. I need an ambulance, I need the police, I need help. And then looking around for any of these options, I realized we were a million miles from anywhere. Scanning over the crowds of hurting people it dawned on me, I don't have a car, I don't have a doctor. All I have is God. Crap. She's screwed.

I hugged her into my chest and wept, not sure what to do. Watching as the line behind her was growing with others, I froze up. And so I did what I came to do. I prayed. I prayed to God a simple and honest prayer, "I know you are there, and I know you have done great things. I need one of them now. Heal this child, Lord. My whole body and everything I am tells me that she needs a doctor, but all we have is you. So I'm sorry if right now I don't believe you can do it, but ignore me, and heal her. She needs you. You are all she has."

And then she walked away, disappearing into the dusk covered crowd. I will always remember the back of that tattered dress, with the lace trim hanging below the frayed orange hem. I have never wanted to throw up so badly.   But before I could even try, there was another person in front of me, needing prayer.

Later that night, I was sitting with my team, and we were discussing the day. When it was my turn, I just cried. Trying my best to hold it together, I held my head in my hands and explained to them what happened. "I know Jesus said if you ask anything and believe, then it will be given to you. But I asked, and I didn't believe. I didn't believe He could do it.   What if I was her only chance to get healing or see a doctor and I failed. What if because I couldn't get it together she dies from this. What if I prevented her from healing, because I didn't trust God?" And then there were only tears, no more words could get out of my mouth.

They offered me support, and some Bible verses. The one about the father, who cried to Jesus, "I do believe, help me in my unbelief." But it did little help for my heart. I think it's shattered. It may even be broken. I hope God will bring me some answers and peace. But mostly I hope for a miracle. Oh, me of little faith. She will forever be ingrained in my mind. So I will pray for her now, mightily. Which is all she ever asked of me.

Please, be praying for her as well. And believe it. From across the world, send your earnest prayers to God. He can do great and mighty things. Maybe He brought me her, so I could bring her to you.

Stacey is a graduate of Belmont University and is currently on the World Race. This article was used with her permission and originally appears on her blog.

The Alabaster Jar and Meeting Jesus: A Narrative

Tue, 9 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Averted eyes and gazes as I walk down the dirt road. They might as well have been stepping on me. The grit and stank dwells deep in my bones. I am the grime and sludge. I am the unwanted.

My hair is coifed, coiled, and creased. Every curl in place and every minute of time proven worth it. A masterpiece. Ruby lips. Kohl on eyes. Shadows to highlight and acknowledge the eyes are the windows. Look at them.

My clothes are pressed. The purples, the blue silk flowers in the field. Yet all of my work is for nothing. No one looks at me. I am from the pit of thieves and the underground. I am the epitome of an outsider.

I slink in the comfortable shadows as the sun sets signaling the time. My heart beats quicker with the looks and gazes of dismay my way.

I am unwanted. I have done what I needed. Been used, abused. Always the girl who was a little out there. The girl who grew out of the eyes of the crowd. Learning what was wrong. Finding out what is disgusting. Discovering the dissension of a disease that dominates. The oil slick that dwells in the soul and taints the insides.

My shame is great. My outside a pretty wrapper on a foul package. A piece of candy that opened, maybe savored for a second, than spat to the dirt. Tossed out into the brown dust that is home. Dry dust with no rain that pours. Roads that are hard and broken. It s my next of kin. My sisters and brothers that know me better than the world.

I am rushing to someone I have never met. Someone who is out of the dust and like a gleam of light. The jagged muscle that resides in my chest jumps and yearns for this man in a way unnatural to the dank mess of emotions that I am used to. I am clasping an offering between my palms. Something sweet smelling unlike my life. Smooth and white. The opposite of me. An alabaster jar of perfume.

The open courtyard is full, but people cringe away from me. I make my way to the front a. I glance at him and my heart does not know whether to move faster or not at all. Seated with he leaders of the ruling class. He seems a king among the wretched masses to me.

I hear no words. I sense no other person in the area, but this man and I. My shame is anew. My disgrace is on my mind. Replays of those late nights in the dark. Those nights of abuse. Moments of anguish and despair. The stages grew worse and the problem grew to this moment where I stood so close. So close.

Something in me screams to get closer. "Closer you idiot! You don't have to be afraid." My muscles tense in the knowledge that rejection maybe imminent, yet I can't stop the urge. One foot moves forward and something falls from my eye. A tear. My foot moves again and the steps become less tentative. The urgency is back.

He glances at me and a flood begins. My unworthiness ringing in the ears of my being. I throw myself into the ground at his feet. Dust rises from my dropping body. It is settling on him! "I tainted him. I must undo this." I place my head over his beautiful feet and allow the flood to rid the unholy dust from him.

Compulsion rises, and I kiss his feet. This only helps more water to flow onto his feet and I know that the dirt will become clinging dragging mud. I must get it off. Each curl pulled from place, each painstaking pin is pulled as I rip my hir down to wipe his wondrous being clean. I hear gasps as the brown silk falls from my crown, past my shoulders to the ground. With his feet dry, I begin to caress the feet again with my lips.

The alabaster jar is remembered and I pour the contents on his feet. The judges are speaking, but I hear none of their condemning words. The jagged rock begins to melt and unknown feelings rush out. Love. This is what it must feel like.

All of a sudden I look up and he is staring straight into my eyes. I want to look away. I want to turn because I know he can see all of me in this moment. He smiles at me. He is not cringing. He is not disgusted. He is looking at me with that newly learned emotion, love.

He says, "You sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you. Go in peace." With those words, my pain is gone. My disease is cured. Everything is gone but he remains. I kiss his feet one last time. I stand unashamed and walk into the light of a new day.

Samantha is a 23 year-old teacher who recently followed God into the desert, literally -- roughing it out in Dubai where inspiration for lessons are everywhere.

The Line and the Dot by Paul Gibbs: A Roadmap for Visionaries

Mon, 8 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

We are indebted to the visionaries and pioneers of society. Daily, we live off the fruit of their labor, often unaware of backache it takes to plow new ground. In a culture that's constantly coming up with the "next best thing," could it be we have lost importance of having visionaries in the Church?

In The Line and the Dot: Alternative Thoughts On Vision, Paul Clayton Gibbs speaks to anyone who has felt the stirring of a God-given dream inside of them. While there may be a star-struck view of visionaries, Gibbs is refreshingly down to earth, returning to the teachings of history's greatest pioneer - Jesus.

"Pioneers tend to be seen as radicals... they usually think of the crazy maverick extremists... however, what is truly radical about pioneers is going back to the basics. Pioneers are people who are seeking to return to origins, the original meaning, the original intention and original concept."

In a style reminiscent of Rob Bell, Gibbs writes in a way that is concise and thought-provoking, zooming in to the detail found from studying the Hebrew root of scripture, yet expanding out to see the overall picture.

He tells the story of his big idea: Pais, a free apprenticeship created to train students to be missionaries within schools and leaders in their churches. The story of Pais' beginning is both exciting and stunningly honest at points, eroding the idea that being at the forefront of a movement is glamorous.

Gibbs challenges his readers to drop the facade of perfection and get real with God. He makes the profound statement that, "revelation is a conversation of awkward questions." He addresses the idea that many leaders have a vision of vision itself, instead of a vision of God. Going through the steps that generally take place when God places a vision on your heart, the book tells of the hardship and the joy that will come in pushing through to the end.

Paul Gibbs challenges people to think outside the majority mentality and not waver from what they feel God is saying - no matter how "crazy."

"No longer can we dream dreams that are simply a cut and paste version of what is safe and familiar. Nor can we hope for that one-off event that provides us with a magic wand to life's issues. We must see vision as a certain process that goes beyond the system in which we presently live."

The Line and The Dot is for anyone who has ever had a vision that is too big to keep to themselves. It's for anyone facing the pain that comes with being an entrepreneur for the Kingdom of God. It's for anyone that feels down and defeated and needs some life breathed into their dreams again.

Order The Line and The Dot here.

**Your chance to win a free copy: What is your "big idea"? Share a vision for something you would like to pioneer (in the comments section below), and we'll pick one random winner of The Line and the Dot!

Brooke is a writer and missionary who loves cultures and cooking. She lives in Texas. Check out her blog.

The Life of a Christian Hipster: An Interview with Brett McCracken

Sun, 7 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

What is hipster Christianity?

Hipster Christianity is, in short, the fusion of hipster culture-independent, alternative, anti-mainstream, fashionable-with Christianity. It's a world of mostly twentysomething Christian evangelicals who grew up on CCM and hysteria about being in the "end times," but now care more about things like social justice, creation

care, and whiskey tasting.

It's a world where things like Left Behind, Jesus fish bumper stickers, and door-to-door evangelism are relevant only as a source of irony or nostalgia. It's a world where Braveheart youth pastor analogies and Thomas Kinkade are anathema.

Hipster Christianity is about rebelling against the legalistic, overly political, apathetic-about-culture evangelicalism of the latter half of the 20th century. It's a new iteration of youth-oriented, alternative, counter-cultural Christianity-the offspring of the Jesus movement of the 60s-70s but less Pentecostal and more liturgical (in a "postmodern pastiche" sort of way).

Do you consider yourself a Christian hipster?

By the definitions set out in the book, yes, I would have to consider myself a Christian hipster. Of course, it's always a weird thing to call oneself any type of hipster. Hipsters tend to avoid the term. But as someone who listens to indie music, loves foreign film, enjoys smoking a pipe on occasion and wears Chuck Taylors and v-necks quite frequently, I definitely fit some of the hipster stereotypes.

You've written some on how twenty-somethings aren't looking for "cool" at church. Can you talk about this, as it seems some churches have gone down this road of pursuing what's cool?

I just really don't think that "cool" is one of the attributes of church that will keep twentysomethings interested. We can get "cool" anywhere, so why go to church for it? Churches should be culturally engaged, to be sure, but not to the point that they are chasing after whatever fads and trends there are out there at any moment. This comes

across as desperate and awkward more often than not.

Ultimately, I think twentysomethings are looking for a church that is just down to earth, gospel-centered, Bible-preaching, relational, and service-minded. All the flashy accouterments and whiz-bang technologies are fine, but they can only do so much to keep people engaged. If a church is not about transformation and isn't emphasizing biblical teaching and spiritual growth, it doesn't matter how "cool" it is.

Is the impact of this trend inevitable for a 20- or 30-something on some levels?

I think so. This is an age when rebellion is a rite-of-passage. We want to fashion a a unique identity that is independent from parents, mainstream culture, authority, etc. And with regard to Christianity, I do think that any 20-30something Christian these days has to reckon with these issues to some degree. How can we not? We grew up in a Christianity that was so different from the world we encounter today. We have to reconcile the faith of our upbringing/tradition with the world we want to be relevant in and for today. But every generation goes through this.

What is your favorite type of hipster?

I like the kind that wear combat boots and Indian headdresses, face paint and big hoop earrings--parading around blowing bubbles and whistling Townes Van Zandt melodies (sometimes with harmonica). This sort of extravagant, Blade Runner-meets-Last of the Mohicans mish mash is greatly amusing to me. In the book I think the "Shaman Mystic" type comes closest.

What are some positive implications of hipster Christianity?

I think Christian hipsters tend to care a lot about art and culture, and have a healthy (I think) love of "good things." They value aesthetics and they appreciate well-made things (whether music, food, beer, etc). They seem to genuinely appreciate God's creation and are curious and awestruck by it, which is something I sometimes think
mainstream evangelicalism is lacking. Also, I think the hipster emphases on social justice, caring for the environment, and generally being engaged in world issues can offer some helpful lessons for mainstream evangelicalism.

Is this trend just this generation's version of rebelling against the status quo, or is something unique happening here?

Yeah, on one hand it definitely is just the whole rite-of-passage rebellion thing. But I also think that the culture today has made rebellion against the status quo much more accessible and almost expected. Rebellion is almost like the new mainstream.

So you have all these churches and institutions and corporations adopting "alternative" styles and the look of rebellion, because it just carries so much power in the marketplace today. So I think the whole hipster thing is amplified in certain ways today because of various cultural/economic factors.

What do you want people to get out of your book, and how can they find out more about you?

I hope people get knowledge and insight about this particular moment in evangelical history--what the challenges are for this generation in thinking through our identity as Christians and our position toward culture. I hope people get a reminder in the book about what is TRULY cool about Christianity and how distracted we get by all the accompanying sideshows that have to do with "being relevant" to the culture. We are most relevant when we are most biblical. Bottom line. I hope that's the message people get from Hipster Christianity.

As for more information about me. Check out my blog or website.

Hipster Christianity by Brett McCracken: A Book Review

Mon, 1 Nov 2010 00:00:00 GMT

When church and cool collide. That's the nifty tag line placed on the (dare I say hip?) cover of Brett McCracken's first book, Hipster Christianity.

I know what you're thinking: "Here we go again. Please don't tell me you want me to learn the meaning of yet another niche, Christianese word!" Yes. Yes I do, young padawan.

But I promise, once you finish with McCracken's expose, you'll know the word "hipster" more intimately than a pair of skinny jeans. Here's a taste of what Hipster Christianity is all about (and, for that matter, what a 'hipster" is):

"...Hipsters distinguish themselves from the pack, because they are not satisfied to just feel 'secure' or 'a part of things.' They want to find things for themselves, discover the new frontier, and uncover unknown wonders on no one else's terms but their own." (p. 25)

Curtailing through the 'secular' history of hipsters was simply the only way to introduce the idea of Hipster Christianity, which is exactly what Brett does from the get-go of the book.

Kudos to McCracken for such an undertaking. That daunting task was not for the faint of heart.

Try to keep your redeemed wits about you during this first part of the book, though, as certain references like Lollapalooza or Pabst Blue Ribbon may set off a relapse. Just kidding. (Kind of.)

When it comes to using cultural icons as secular hipster examples to back his play, Brett pulls from the dead and infamous (e.g. Kurt Cobain and Edgar Allen Poe), to the obscure and fictitious (e.g. Rousseau and Captain EO).

Ne'er is a hipster left behind as McCracken brings us up to speed through their illustrious history by exposing twelve common types in detail -- from The Yuppie and Flower Child to the Shaman Mystic.

Flipping through these pages, one begins to wonder, "How in the name of Weezer is Christianity going to mesh with all of this?" Just wait, grasshopper...

To be sure, the emerging church philosophy has riddled this book with its piercing arsenal of terms and approaches to life and faith. Whether or not that's a bad thing depends largely on your personal preference of denomination, as well as certain doctrinal positions you cling to.

McCracken surprised me midway through the book by listing several churches that fit his description of a modern-day hip church. It's a tad textbooky, but to my delight, Mark Driscoll, one of my favorite outspoken pastors, and his Mars Hill flock made the cut.

After finally closing the cover (while relaxing in a trendy coffee shop, mind you), I tossed one question around before losing interest: Is being ultra-relevant the new irrelevance?

God forbid we wrap ourselves so tightly around the ever-changing culture that we fail to address the practical needs of those not on the cutting edge. In his book, McCracken eventually hits on the main difference between being cool and being the Church; I just hope the restless hipsters reading it don't bail before those points are made.

To be fair, McCracken does flesh out some "solutions" to this new issue (fad?) in the church. And as a comfort to those thinking that Hipster Christianity may be the demise of the church, he offers this great quote from David Wells:

"Relevance is not about incorporating something else as definitive in the life of the church, be it the hottest marketing trend, the latest demographic, the newest study on depression, what a younger generation thinks, Starbucks, or contemporary music. None of these is definitive. None should be allowed a defining role in how the church is strengthened and nourished."

In closing, I think most Christians have already come to their own conclusions when it comes to relevance and the church. However, this book may help tip the straddlers.

Check out the Hipster Christianity website for more on the book and Brett McCracken.

Evan is a missionary, author for Third Option Men, and all around silly guy. Seriously.