Chris Yaw

Deciding to get more serious with spiritual life? Looking for some good habits to bring you closer to The Light? Wanting to draw closer to Jesus? Thanks to an old pal from Seminary days, Scotsman Ron Boyd MacMillan, who offers a form of these to preachers, but they're helpful to all of us who are looking to jump start our spiritual lives.

1) Make up your own 'daily liturgy.' No matter what your Christian heritage, you have a certain way of organizing your daily quiet time, why not begin your renewal by mixing it up a bit? Sure it'll contain the usual bits, Confession, Praise, Reading, Praying etc., but set it out in your own words - perhaps including poetry, fine art contemplation and meditation on sacred music. Write it down, give it a go, adjust as necessary.

2) Write down a 'verse of the week' and meditate on it for seven days. Choose a text that has made a particular impression on you. Use a notebook or PDA to jot it down and return to it frequently throughout the week ruminating on why it has particular resonance with you at the moment.

3) Find suffering people to teach you the faith. When Jesus said 'the poor will always be with you' he very well could have been saying that the mark of Christ-followers is that they will recognize the value of 'the least of these' in becoming better Christians. Henri Nouwen had L'Arche, Mother Teresa had her homes for the dying. I regularly visit a homeless shelter. Don't do this to feel good about yourself for volunteering - you'll miss the point - but learn how they rejoice in their sufferings, how they gain Christ in the midst of pain. Encounter the suffering and you will get to know how the Christian faith works.

4) Read a great book each week. Find a reading list of great books and work your way through it. Sure, start with the Christian classics, but include the great books of the world. Also, at the very least carve out an hour a week to do this. Intentionally say you are going to get through the book in that time period and you will be amazed at how much you can remember even if you have to skim parts of it.

5) Take time to write. Even if it's 20 minutes a week. Even if it's just a paragraph. But choose a subject - an encounter with the book you just read, Scripture, a neighbor, your significant other and ask yourself these questions: How did the Lord speak through ________? What might God be trying to who me through it? You will be amazed at what fruit this can yield.

6) Find a phylactery. Maybe it's a rosary, maybe it's a pocket cross - one rabbi keeps a piece of paper in each pocket, one that says 'I'm a desperately wicked sinner' and the other that says 'I'm a beloved child of God.' Yes, the body often forgets God which is why a tangible memento can be so valuable. What would yours be? What might it say?

7) Build yourself a cell. Sure the contemporary 'man cave' may not be an update of the monk's cell, but the idea's the same; to find a retreat from the pressures around us. With the fast pace we're all pretty much forced to keep, we can lose sight of the fact that we serve a 3 mile per hour God (that's the pace of an average walker - remember, Jesus walked). Your cell can be a hut in the garden or a corner in a room, but make it a time of nothing but silence. You'll only share your cell with one other - the Lord. Use this time to listen, not for the earthquake, the fire, or the wind - but the stillness of God's presence. Out of this kind of practice unparalleled inspirations appear.

For many of us summertime is the best time of year: vacations, free time, catching up on reading, home maintenance, videos, sports, gardening and friendships. We finally get a break from our increasingly complicated, busy and changing world. It’s time to recharge our batteries (re-creation). And I would suggest we also take some time to look at some ways we can remain steady and even flourish in our increasingly chaotic society – that we might learn anew how to grow in our Christian faith and make significant progress in Christ’s work of reconciling all things to Him.

First, let’s take some time this summer to consider, or reconsider, our relationships with technology and new media – the Internet, Facebook, blogs, Twitter and wireless communications. As we all know human knowledge is increasing exponentially. Our brains and our waking hours are not. How do we keep up with it all? How do we manage this information in ways that feed, inform and nourish us rather than confusing, frightening and frustrating us? Information technologies help us do that. They help us search, retrieve, collect and manage this new information like nothing else. While critics bemoan these innovations as brain-altering and attention-span-shortening, this is not the case. As Harvard’s Stephen Pinker argues, “Far from making us stupid, these technologies are the only things that will keep us smart.”

Second, let’s take some time to look at how we’re honing the skills we need to keep steady – like self-discipline, self-control, and concentration. While distraction is nothing new, we have more things by which to be distracted and those same skills we learned in grade school - of organization, prioritizing and boundary-setting - are becoming more and more valuable. Temptation is taking on new forms. The solution is not to demonize technology, but to put it in its place. Only check email at certain times of the day. Turn off Twitter when you work, put the cell phone away at dinner. It is much less productive to criticize iPads and Google Voice than it is to hone our skills of critical thinking, deep reflection and intellectual rigor.

Third, let’s do some thinking about ‘change’ - life’s only constant. We rarely like change because it means we take on something new and trade in the old. And many of us liked the old. So with change there is loss, grief and often, conflict. It is both bittersweet and inevitable. But change also means possibility. When we welcome change we open ourselves to new things that may fulfill us in ways we never dreamed of. The Scriptures describe God as a 'consuming fire' which paints a picture of morphing movement, drama, and uniqueness. So change means acknowledging and grieving the loss, then handling the conflict, before finally assessing the new landscape and deciding how best to fit in, chart a new course, and open ourselves to newness.

Finally, let’s take this summer to reaffirm the greatest asset Christians bring to a changing landscape, perhaps best put by St. Matthew when he quotes Jesus’ final words, “And remember I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 29:19) We do not sail through uncharted waters alone. Someone has gone before us and remains with us. In the midst of the swirling chaos that surrounds, we have peace and Presence. It is a Presence that has a plan, and is working in amazing ways to bring it to fruition. So relax, we go through this storm griping a steady hand. And we ask ourselves how we might more deeply cling to the peace of Christ, the conviction that Jesus is at work in and around us, and more intentionally focus on how He is asking us to be His hands and feet in a broken world, in deep need of healing.

Reading:
Can Our Church Live? – Alice Mann
Explosive Preaching – Ronald Boyd-MacMillan
Healing Light – Agnes Sanford

When you look in the mirror do you absolutely love what you see? Are you satisfied with every aspect of who you are? Have you finally reached perfection?

Of course not.

We all spend the majority of our time and resources trying to improve ourselves. Many of us want to live healthier, get smarter, look better, make more money, and push ourselves into newness - discovering and fulfilling our deepest beings.

One of the things that compels us is our dissatisfaction with what we see in the mirror. It can drive us to do devastating things (as illustrated in the above photo, courtesy of a bulimia foundation). The theological pothole this can create is it can alter our understanding of God’s love. Since we are not satisfied with who we are, we can think that God isn’t either. We forget that God loves us just as we are, not as we should be.

We see this in Sunday’s Gospel when Jesus is having dinner at a Pharisee’s house and a ‘sinner’ comes to the door. She is obviously enamored with Jesus. She washes his feet with tears, dries them with her hair, and anoints him with perfume. Jesus’ host objects. He doesn’t understand what’s motivated her – that it’s the miraculous revelation that God loves her just as she is. Despite her sins and shortcomings God is willing to forgive and accept her for who she is.

The Pharisee, who is the one I most resemble, is stuck in the erroneous thinking that God somehow favors him because he does religious things – dressing, talking, socializing, praying and behaving in certain ways. We do well to remember a former Archbishop of Canterbury’s wise words, ‘It is a great mistake to believe that God is chiefly interested in religion.’

What God is chiefly interested in is love. In loving you, me and all of creation relentlessly, completely, and unceasingly. God is chiefly interested in healing, restoring and reconciling. This is what Jesus did and who Jesus is. Faced with this reality, what would we do if Jesus suddenly appeared before us? And what do we do knowing that Christ is present - especially in the needy and marginalized around us?

Reading
Can Your Church Live? – Alice Mann
Miracles of Kathryn Kuhlman – Harold Castroph
In Memoriam: A Guide to Modern Funeral and Memorial Services – Edward Searl

It’s been said that the person who belongs to a small church lives in a much larger world. Seeing the same people week after week leads to friendships, many times with folk whom we wouldn’t ordinarily get to know – indeed, whom we might initially have so little in common with that we would’ve never met anyplace other than at church. This diversity can be rewarding. It can open our minds and make us deeper, more thoughtful and less rigid human beings.

Small congregations force us to get along with one another. They compel us to understand where other people are coming from and civilly settle our differences, which can be of immense value in the larger world.

Small congregations keep us accountable. You can’t miss too many Sundays before someone calls or drops by just to make sure everything’s OK. We think twice about skipping Sunday services – not just because we miss out on worship, but because of the people who will be disappointed if we’re not there.

Large churches get this - as attested by their emphasis on small groups. In fact, the biggest trend in the mega-church world is multi-site congregations – the establishment of much smaller satellite campuses that promote intimacy and closer relationships.

The Episcopal Church is a small church haven. 80% of our congregations host 150 people or less on Sunday mornings. The vast majority of Episcopalians are converts (70%), and a great many of us came from much larger churches. Many of us joined because of the size. We realize we are created for relationships. We were made for deep, intimate and sacred relationship, not just with the Lord, but with each other. Christianity isn’t just about me and Jesus. It’s about me and Jesus and you.

This is not to say that small churches are meant to stay small. The Great Commission teaches otherwise, plus we were created to grow in all sorts of ways. Some churches grow and stay together, others plant new congregations so that size remains manageable. The key is to understand our community, whatever the present size may be, as a gift from God to draw us all closer to the Lord. In what ways do we take advantage of our size to build the kinds of relationships, with Jesus and others, that might draw us closer to Him?

Reading
Can Your Church Live? - Alice Mann
Blood and Thunder - Hampton Sides
The Heart of Christianity - Marcus Borg

Easter and Pentecost are gone and while we may have earned a well-deserved summer vacation, Mother Church is saying, ‘Not so fast…’ Hey, the temperatures are warmer (at least in the Northern Hemisphere) and we’re downright tempted to do what the mice do when the cat’s away (leave at 3:15), but that’s just not going to happen yet - we’ve got Trinity Sunday this weekend.

For the uninitiated, Trinity Sunday may seem like the Church’s annual exercise in futility – it’s when preachers mount pulpits and take their best stab at explaining the unexplainable: who is God? The best two thousand years of Christendom have been able to do is come up with an idea we call ‘The Trinity’ – one God in three roles or offices or persons – Father, Son and Holy Spirit. What this means is that Sunday’s feast is the only day of the year when we ponder a teaching of the Church rather than a teaching of Jesus (the word Trinity is actually not found in the Bible).

And while taking a stab at answering an unanswerable question certainly seems pointless, I think this is actually one of the more important feasts of the year. After all, if we never attempted to climb unclimbable mountains, build impossible buildings or swim impassable rivers we would not be all that we were created to be. This is the most adventuresome day of the year for Christians as we ponder the “Is-ness” of God – the very being of God.

Like our Jewish ancestors, we realize this can be dangerous. We resist making images of God (statues and the like) because we don’t want to violate the second commandment. So we go for metaphor, ‘God is like…’ which can be helpful (God is like a chord made up of three individual notes...). However, we soon realize that whatever proofs, formulas or explanations we can drum up fall short. If God exists outside of Creation then how can we attempt to understand Him (or Her) by using only those things available within Creation? What’s more, for any ‘proof’ to be valid necessitates the neutrality of the observer, which is simply not possible.

One thing we often learn from this exercise is the utter complexity of God. We look at the evidence that surrounds us – the natural world of ocean rhythms, interstellar order, and the incredible intricacies that make up the simple beauties found in budding plants and the eyes of a newborn. And while Trinity Sunday may remind us of our inability to understand God, it also reminds us that we are able to know God. Just think about how many things you and I know but don’t understand (I know my car works but will never understand how). We also remember what scientists tell us – that most discoveries are preceded by hypotheses; a belief in what’s happening before it is actually proven. Don’t we sell ourselves short (and display no small amount of hubris) when we conclude that we can’t believe in God because we don’t understand God?

So this Trinity Sunday, when we contemplate the adventure of going deeper into the unknown of God, we know that it involves doing nothing more than taking the hand that is reaching for us. It is the One that beckons us to forgive that wrong, reach out to that needy neighbor, and take a stand against injustice. In doing this we are saying what we believe. May we be granted faith so to do, in the Name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Reading
The Great Emergence – Phyllis Tickle
The Slate Roof Bile – Joseph Jenkins
Governance and Ministry – Dan Hotchkiss

In the Bible there are many names for the Holy Spirit and his (or her?) ministry to the world. This Sunday our translation will render this third member of the Trinity as 'Advocate.' Other Biblical references include Holy Ghost, Spirit of God, Spirit of Truth and a favorite which is Paraclete (loosely: 'one who comes alongside'). What I like about this translation (which is really no translation at all) is the underlying assumption, 'Well we don't really know exactly what it means in Greek so we'll transliterate it into English and let you figure it out...'

This Pentecost Sunday the most helpful understanding of the Holy Spirit's work and ministry in my life is 'Comforter.' The Gospel text assigned to us, John 14:8-27, has the disciple Philip sitting in for you and me as he asks, 'Lord, show us the Father!' And a somewhat frustrated Jesus (I'm sure) chiming in to say, 'Have I been with you all this time (insert your name here), and you still do not know me?' We, like Phillip, are often in places where we simply cannot recognize God. We live in an age where anxiety disorder diagnoses are through the roof, worries about a dwindling middle class are well founded, a slushy and unpredictable economy keeps us awake at night, and a worrisome national security landscape haunts us (did someone really plant a car bomb in Times Square?).

Yet in the middle of it all, Jesus calls us to go out into the world to continue His work - not just healing, restoring and reconciling, but smiling at the busboy who brings us water, letting the jibe from that passive aggressive co-worker go unanswered, and taking a moment to stare deeply into the eyes of our beloveds to say, 'Ya know, I really love you.'

But in order to do this, we need to find a place to put all that crappy worrying.

And this is where the Holy Spirit - the Comforter comes in.

When my 9 month old is in his activity saucer near my desk (that's him in action, above), furiously rattling rattles, pushing buttons and ringing bells every once in a while he'll suddenly stop and look over at me - as if to say - 'Are we cool?' I look over at him and smile (like, who cannot smile at a smiling baby?) and let him know, 'Ya, we're cool.' And off he goes again, in a tornado of fury. If I don't look at him he'll speak up to grab my attention and when I leave the room there's usually a wail. He wants to know I'm nearby and everything's cool.

Pentecost is like that. Jesus tells us, relax, keep up the good work. The Comforter is here and never leaves.

Everything's cool.

Reading
Governance and Ministry - Dan Hotchkiss
Giving it Up - Maggi Dawn
The Fidelity of Betrayal - Peter Rollins

For churches with fundamentalist convictions this is an interesting testimony of church growth and offers useful tips for 'transitioning' your church from small and declining to big and growing. However, for the rest of us it offers much less.

Mega church pastor Brad Powell tells a glossy and rather simplistic rags to riches story of church growth, insisting that the growth he piloted (his church now hosts thousand of people each Sunday) is something every church can do; 'He (sic) just needs His people like you to believe in His power and to embrace His purpose and passion for your church.' Brad begins with an archtypically evangelical story of being brought to his knees at a pastor's conference and, all alone, hearing from God and having the Bible speak directly to him as he received his marching orders.

Brad tells us about his church, Temple Baptist Church in Detroit, one of the largest Baptist churches in the country in the 1950's. He mentions several times that the congregation had lost two thirds of its membership in the ten years before his arrival. He blames it on irrelevant music and worship and tells how he did the difficult work of transforming it into NorthRidge Church. What Brad leaves out is the fact that racial division played perhaps the biggest role in Temple's decline, and that the decision to leave its historic location meant moving out of a declining neighborhood into tony Plymouth, a white middle to upper class suburb where his particular brand of theology would be better received and much better funded. Thus leaving behind a declining area, and its residents, and adding to the Balkanization of the Detroit metro area.

Brad, like other mega church pastors, gives us the impression that his congregation's growth came mainly through new converts, whereas church growth statistics show that more than 90% of mega church growth comes from piquing the interest of other Christians who have either stopped going to church or who, more often, have simply switched churches - which is very common in his evangelical world. Brad rightly points out that there are a lot of Baptists in the Detroit area. His church has had obvious appeal to many of them.

Also common in evangelical circles is the overuse of anecdote and the underuse of academic and outside sources. This book has no footnotes, bibliography or even suggested reading. Like Rick Warren's 'Purpose Driven' best seller, the only go-to literature it commends is more of the author's, in this case, Brad's blog, church website and church address. I expected something with more academic rigor, but again, the tradition isn't known for commending it.

Brad hits home when he talks about church governance models, and the importance of updating them to meet current trends. This is one of the significant reasons dying churches continue to decline. 80% of America's churches are not growing, many of them because they continue to use antiquated organizational models that promote navel-gazing and inhibit change and newness. Temple's transition is a testimony to Brad's leadership and a willingness of its deacons to embrace a new kind of organizational leadership that empowers the laity and gives permission to members to get involved in ministry. NorthRidge members believe they have something vital to share and deserve kudos for allowing that conviction to drive their decision to embrace its leadership model. Would that every church would share the conviction that what they have to offer is worth this kind of sacrifice!

Brad also offers credible advice when he explains how he rooted these changes in mission - to reach the lost. He tells of how he reminded the congregation of the important paradigm that the Church is the only institution that exists primarily for those who are not its members and that doing this kind of mission requires change. He gives a helpful tip when he urges congregations to use 'testimony' of changed lives during the transition - to remind the congregation that the changes they are making are bearing fruit.

However, Brad leaves many of us (me and my more liberal churchmen and women) out of his equation when he implies that a conservative approach to theology must stand at the heart of church growth, as if the only way to grow a church is to embrace his slant on Christianity. Certainly he is aware that many liberal churches are growing and that they also have much to offer in leading others to Christ (by liberal I mean those that read Scripture more flexibly, do not claim a monopoly on salvation and believe, as the United Church of Christ advertises, that 'God is still speaking’).

What left me wanting is any mention of how NorthRidge is making a significant dent in improving Detroit. The biggest challenges this geographic area faces are racial reconciliation, unity among churches and social justice. Half of Detroit's children live at or under the poverty line. What would it look like for a church of this size and influence to partner with an inner city community organizing group and work not just at feeding the homeless (as NorthRidge certainly does, out in the suburbs) but, as Jesus did, taking on a corrupt power system that enables the rich to get richer and the poor to get poorer? Mega churches emote images of comfy suburbanites sipping lattes, being entertained by upbeat music and ‘challenged’ by Dr. Phil messages. Sadly, Brad’s story left me with little evidence to the contrary. Shouldn’t growing churches like this provide the leadership and challenge to do the gritty work of reconciliation in the most racially divided region in America?

I received a free copy of Brad's book as a member of a scheme called 'Booksneeze,' that gives away books to those who will review them and post them on their blogs. We can assume that the books made available will be those needing blog publicity because they're not able to carry much weight on their own. This book, at the time of this writing was ranked around 400,000 on amazon.com, and hence, certainly qualifies.

Years ago a Christian singing duo named Avery and Marsh penned a musical parody about American Christendom called, ‘I Can Be a Christian By Myself.’ Here’s the first verse:

I can be a Christian by myself.
Leave my dusty Bible on the shelf.
I'll sing a hymn and pray a bit.
God can do the rest of it.
My heart's the church, my head's the steeple. 
Shut the door, I'm all the people.
I'll break some bread and drink some wine.
Have myself a holy time.

Of course this would be much more amusing if it didn’t hit so close to home. As someone who prides himself on his independence, and is equally proud to live in a country founded by (and loaded with) rugged individualists, my sense of discomfort is widely shared. I feel a tug of competing loyalties – to a heritage and lifestyle of individual freedom and the pull of a Savior who is constantly calling me into selfless relationships with others.

This Sunday many Christians will hear a famous reading from the Bible - a portion of Jesus’ last prayer before his crucifixion. On the eve of his betrayal, punishment and death Jesus takes a moment to pray for you and me. And what he prays is for us to take our relationships really seriously. What I find so fascinating about this prayer is not the ‘what,’ but the ‘how.’ We are not asked to unite around a football team, ethnic heritage, profit-making venture, or even a form of altruism (although those might be infinitely easier!) but we are asked to unite around Him.

Jesus goes all New Age on us - asking us to imagine Him in us, and us in Him, then us and Him together emptying ourselves for those who don’t know Him. It’s pointed, direct, and more than a bit eclectic. And who would ever have guessed it would become the foundation of the largest and most influential religion the world has ever known?

At the heart of Jesus’ final words is an imploring for us to get rid of all the distractions and focus on Him. In this time of Ascensiontide (these ten days between Ascension Day last Thursday and Pentecost next Sunday), which Karl Barth called, ‘The Significant Pause,’ how might you and I renew our focus on the valued relationships around us - our Lord, our family, our friends? How might we use this hour, this day and this season of significant pause, to revive friendships, renew significant relationships, and reach out to those to whom we are called?

Reading
Governance and Ministry – Dan Hotchkiss
Can Your Church Live? – Alice Mann
The Five Most Important Questions – Peter Drucker

Like many people, I watched with great interest as the head of the Wall Street class, Goldman Sachs, was hauled into the principal's office last week to answer for its part in The Great Recession, and more specifically, the housing market collapse that triggered it all. Goldman is being accused, in a civil suit filed by the S.E.C., of essentially misrepresenting a mortgage-based product it was pushing. Apparently it involved a heavy investor who helped construct the product - and he was betting it would fail. One commentator likened it to helping a bookie pick the horses and jockeys allowed in the race.

Whether or not Goldman violated the law - we suspect that had the company done so we would see criminal charges versus a civil suit - the spotlight is on the propriety of it all. What sorts of ethical frameworks are at work here?

Years ago Augustine of Hippo posited a simple axiom to help Christians maneuver an increasingly complicated world. He famously instructed; 'love God and do as you please.' As the reasoning goes, in loving God one will engage in the sorts of behaviors that would be pleasing to God - honesty, integrity, self-denial, charity, peace-making, etc. Last Sunday those of us who attend liturgical churches heard Jesus say, 'I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you should also love one another.'

What would Wall Street, or our street, look like if we approached ethical questions from this vantage point? Can I love God and make that comment, purchase, or business deal? What ethical decision am I facing today in which this advice would be good advice? Would that decision pass the sniff test?

Reading
Empire Falls - Richard Russo
Blood and Thunder: The Story of Kit Carson - Hampton Sides
Governance and Ministry - Dan Hotchkiss

Five years ago a Welchman named Howard Stapleton was getting irritated at the loitering going on in front of the local grocery store. Young teenagers would hang around and harass customers as they went in and out of the store. So Howard built a device that would keep the pesky teens away. It was a box that emitted an irritating sound that only young ears could hear. It was a loud tone, of a certain frequency, that adults, because of the natural deterioration of the human ear, can’t pick up. The device had immediate results – and sent kids scurrying like roaches at sunrise. While some youth advocates protested, Howard’s invention wasn’t banned and continues to be marketed as a way to keep annoying teens from congregating.

However, Howard did not have the last laugh. Some enterprising teens decided to turn the tables – and use Howard’s special frequency as a ring tone on cell phones – which means that only kids can hear it ring in class, not teachers – so the talking and texting can go on behind the backs of older authorities and the teens get the last laugh.

In Sunday’s Gospel we hear about something similar when Jesus talks about a voice that’s heard by some and not by others. In a standoff with the corrupt religious power brokers of his day, they ask Him, ‘tell us plainly – are you the Messiah?’ Jesus says that he’s told them – and they haven’t heard. He’s used words and He’s used deeds, but still, they just haven’t heard. Jesus says only his sheep hear his voice – and the reason they hear it is because they follow Him.

We Christians like to think that we’re those sheep – as if we do such a great job hearing and heeding Jesus’ voice. But like the critics of Jesus’ day, and the adults who strain to hear high frequencies, we have to admit that we, too, have a hard time hearing His voice. We plead for healing and get no answer, we ask for guidance and we leave puzzled and depressed when it doesn't come, and we ask for a sign – any sign – then throw our arms up in frustration because we just can't see it.

Then we note that Jesus makes this link between hearing and following – and it makes us pause to think about the depth of our own endeavor to follow: like the image above, if we draw closer to the voice, might we be able to improve our hearing? For we remember that following Jesus means putting aside our own road maps and our own personal priorities. It means allowing Him to take the reigns - and for us to grow in prayer and devotion and self-offering and drawing closer in the ways we know how, but may allowed to drift aside. For we understand quite naturally that if someone is speaking to us the only way to hear them better is to draw closer. What can we do in the week ahead to move closer to that voice?

Reading
The Five Most Important Questions – Peter Drucker
The Faith of the Future – Harvey Cox
Thieves in the Temple – G. Jeffrey MacDonald

In Alain de Botton’s fascinating collection of observations on the statements and meanings of aesthetics, called ‘The Architecture of Happiness,’ he seeks to remind us that where we are affects who we can be. de Botton strongly suggests that what surrounds us matters – and that we do well to choose our surroundings fully conscious of the meanings they invoke. For example, the self-image of one raised in an overcrowded and run down orphanage will drastically differ from that of a youngster raised in a place like the Le Corbusier home above where great care has been taken in tending to home and garden. Sure educational, recreational and social opportunities all play enormous parts, but the continual contact with forms, images and spaces that bespeak great possibility also has great impact of its own.

Just as architecture seeks to invoke a state of the soul, so too does Christianity. However it is the furniture of the heart to which Jesus pays special attention and the great spiritual writers of the ages have encouraged. In writing to the church in Philippi, the apostle Paul urges, “Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” Passages like this remind us that the interior aesthetic has a potential of its own to form and shape our lives. While we all dwell in homes, on blocks and in neighborhoods that bespeak status, safety, beauty and possibility, the make-up of our interiority can, ultimately, play an even more important role.

This resonated anew with me as I was reading the results of a recent World Values Survey, which is conducted every four years by a non-profit led by a University of Michigan professor. These studies gauge the happiness of people in different countries. And it is curious to observe that the nations that dominate this list are not first-world countries flush with wealth or even known for great architecture - Nigeria, Mexico, Venezuela, El Salvador and Puerto Rico round out the top five. In fact, the world’s richest country, our beloved U.S., ranked 16th, behind countries like India, Ghana and Croatia.

This brought two things to mind. First, the concluding chapter in de Botton’s book, which ruminated on the purity and possibility of the unspoiled and the pure that every nation has on offer – the open field. The random beauty of nature’s unspoiled design offers a simplicity and inspiration all its own and given the economic restraints we all face, it also offers broad accessibility. Second, it brought to mind the critical interior aesthetics that influence the contentment of our souls. When we look at the priorities some nations place on family, community, deep relationships and free time it bespeaks an interiority of values and convictions with which the Bible finds resonance.

As another Michigan spring unfurls in our midst, and we begin to venture out of our frosty hibernations, we do well to fill our surroundings both with our favorite manmade aesthetics as well as those of equal or greater value found in the nature that surrounds. Yet even more importantly, as Pentecost comes to us on May 23, we are reminded that the Holy Spirit that indwells each of us is nudging us anew to pay attention to the way we arrange the furniture of our hearts. In what ways are we conscious of the ways we are shaped? How might we do better at paying attention to the things that sculpt our souls? What aesthetics might we tap into that can truly nurture us and others?

Reading
The Architecture of Happiness - Alain de Botton
Have a Little Faith – Mitch Albom
The Five Most Important Questions – Peter Drucker

Where’s Doubting Thomas when you need him?

Where was he on the board of Lehman Brothers when all that cosmetic accounting was going on?
Where was he in all those bank branches when subprime mortgages were being handed out like ice cream at the day care?
Where was Doubting Thomas in all those car dealerships, appliance stores, and rent-a-centers as the national savings rate turned negative and everyone just kept on buying?

When William Shakespeare wrote that doubt is the beacon of the wise, he was touting the value of healthy skepticism – that voice inside each one of us that hesitates when something just doesn’t add up. The unfortunate side to Thomas’ story is that it has painted Christianity as a choice between faith and doubt. They’re seen as polar opposites: if Thomas had simply believed, checked his mind at the door, and blindly accepted the unreasonable he would have been commended and not singled out as the lone loser who has no faith.

However, as Paul Tillich famously said, doubt is not the opposite of faith; it is one element of faith. And this is why I think the Church, down through the ages, has cherished Thomas and his story.

Doubting Thomas stands in for all of us who certainly respect the claims, creeds and testimonies of others, but need a bit more before we’ll bite. Doubting Thomas shows us that the heart of the faith is not believing six impossible things before breakfast - but a personal encounter with the Numinous. Christianity is not about believing what the Church, the preacher, and even the Bible tells us – but it’s about meeting Christ in such a realistic and genuine manner that all we can say is, ‘My Lord and my God.’ As the old country preacher says, ‘God has no grandchildren, only children, whose challenge it is to discover faith on their own – to ask questions, search their heart, and find their own Thomas moment of belief.’

Reading
The Heart of Christianity – Marcus Borg
The Architecture of Happiness – Alain de Botton
Rediscovering Values – Jim Wallis

Chris Yaw

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