Archives for category: sigh

Like the opening of the floodgates at your local big box retailer on Black Friday or the simultaneous release of film twins (Volcano + Dante’s Peak, Armageddon + Deep Impact, etc.), boisterous criticism from prominent Christians against other Christians seems to come in waves. As if according to some invisible timer, charges of being a universalist/false teacher/heretic/Lions fan are tossed around with great volume and passion on a somewhat predictable basis.

Like many of us, I am completely put off by the tone of these kinds of attacks. While many of these voices claim that they are simply “defending” the truth or “contending” for the Gospel, it usually just feels like name-calling and finger-pointing.

However, what really stands out to me is the exuberance with which the rank-and-file of these folks jump in, especially in the blogosphere. It’s strangely reminiscent of how rasslin’ crowds would eagerly finish Dwayne Johnson’s catchphrases. But instead of singing along with If you can smell-la-la-la… what the Rock is cooking! they finish accusations of Heretic! and Arrogant mocker! with a chorus of Thus saith the Lord (or was it ‘Cuz Stone Cold said so?).

While both of these approaches are remarkably effective at galvanizing a particular constituency, only one is the most electrifying.

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Here’s something we can all agree on: Rodney Mullen is rad!

Duane Chapman, better known as Dog the Bounty Hunter, had his show suspended by A&E after he went on a racist tirade which was recorded by his son and published by the National Enquirer. Read more over in this article, Dog N-Bombs Himself into Hiatus. Here is a quote from this conversation:

I’m not taking a chance…not because she’s black but because we use the word n—er sometimes here. I’m not going to take any chance ever in life of losing everything I’ve worked for 30 years because some drunken n—er heard us say n—er and turned us into the Enquirer magazine…I’m not taking that chance at all never in life. Never..

On his show, Duane comes across as a tough guy with a soft heart. After tracking down lawbreakers and bail-jumpers, he’s always ready with a hug or a kind word of advice. Of course, it’s nothing new for the people/characters on reality shows to be very different from their on-camera persona, but Chapman’s rant still stands out for its defiant racism.

In his public statement, Chapman offers a marginally better apology than the usual non-apology, “I’m sorry if I offended anyone.” He does acknowledge that he offended people and expresses remorse, but still attempts to explain away his actions: “I was disappointed in his choice of a friend, not due to her race, but her character. However, I should have never used that term.”

In the end, more disappointing than one reality star’s private racism is the response of many people. In the email talkback segment of one cable news show, viewers’ opinions ranged from “get over it” to outrage that anyone was offended by this incident at all. Is there more resentment brewing underneath the surface, or are people just more willing to express it?

Well, in any case, we can probably expect to see Dog back on the hunt in a month or two — just ask Don Imus.

I think a good part of what I’ve been struggling with these days comes from missing friendship. I’m not trying to write a sad song here — I definitely have friends and acquaintances and, more importantly, a beautiful, supportive family. But, in the last couple of years since we moved out to California, I find myself missing the community we had on the East Coast more & more. My seminary days were tumultuous and difficult, but I treasure the friendships we forged there.

David Park recently shared some great thoughts about accountability, authenticity and friendship. As I read, I was reminded of the “accountability” group I was a part of during my seminary days. We would gather every week to share about our sins & struggles and to pray for one another. However, all of us being Asian American, I think we were pretty guarded. There were several things working against sharing what was genuinely in our hearts — we didn’t all know each other that well, we were all raised in an honor/shame culture, we were all men and the group was little bit too large to allow everyone to share in a reasonable amount of time.

Now, don’t get me wrong — I really valued, and still value, those “official” gatherings. But those kinds of accountability groups, as Joseph Myers points out in Organic Community, have a tendency to focus on the negative. As he puts it, “There is such an underlying expectation of failure” when all we do is keep “account” of our sin & failure. Even my personality (introverted, and shy to boot) works against the effectiveness in my life of this kind of gathering.

I found that simply sharing life together with these same friends set me on a true path. Laughter and joy keep my heart in order and provide perspective, keeping me from getting too wrapped up in my own problems. Actually being there together builds more trust in my heart than going around in a circle and sharing coded prayer requests with people who are essentially strangers.  And it is being there together that creates an environment where, from time to time, deep sharing can occur.

I suppose this is all tied into what I am feeling about my future in the church. I am tired of being part of commuter communities, where the sheer physical distance makes it virtually impossible to build deep friendships. I’ll probably say more on the problems of commuter churches some other time but, seriously, can we develop meaningful relationships in a couple of hours a week — much of which is spent sitting in relative physical proximity but never really engaged with each other? Or can a people’s minds really be there for someone else sharing late into the night at a weekly small group gathering if they know they have a twenty or thirty mile drive in order to get home after everything is done?

Maybe I just need a friend to go to the batting cages, or some indie rock shows, with me. It would relieve a great burden from my wife — who is an extraordinary listener, but who is burdened with the entirety of my worry, stress and frustration — and from me.

Being in vocational ministry can be lonely and isolating. I have really been feeling it these days — my struggle with depression has left me worn out, on edge and easily angered. This leaves me feeling like a failure as a husband and father which, in turn, leads to more depression and on and on. Ugh. I can recognize what’s happening inside of me — which is a pretty big step for me — but it is very difficult to actually break free from it.

Part of my sadness comes from feeling out of place. I don’t blame our church. In fact, I think they would be much better off with someone who understands the language and culture. Although I know it is commonplace in first generation immigrant churches, I find myself increasingly intolerant of “family ministry” meaning essentially “I want to get rid of my children for as long as possible while you supervise them.” Some of the things that are most important to me in life don’t really have a realistic place in the first generation immigrant church context, and that makes it extremely difficult to keep forging ahead in the same direction.

However, as much as I know there is no future for me in the first gen church, I have a hard time picturing myself in a second generation Asian American church context — or, at least, with many of these churches that I have encountered. Let me illustrate: we have a couple of close friends from Orange County who are part of an Asian American church. When the leadership team found out that his background was in the PC(USA) they joked that he was “just barely” a Christian. Sigh. I am weary of this kind of theological arrogance — what good does it do if I can quote Calvin and Piper verbatim, but still act like a gigantic jerk most of the time?

So, then, do we plant a church? Maybe one day, but for now the last thing I would want to do is try to build a new faith community out of frustration or hurt. There is holy discontent, and then there is just plain bitterness. I think I just want to be part of a community where we can be honest and open — maybe not constantly spilling our guts (that’s not really in my personality anyways), but at least one in which we don’t have to go through an elaborate charade every week (and in which “church” is more than once or twice a week in the first place).

Yes, I want to do everything I can to build the kind of community I believe in right where I am. But I would love to be a part of — and contribute to — a church that I am genuinely passionate about, where we have more than “vision statements” that sound great but have little bearing on our reality. I have to admit, though, that dream always seems just out of reach.

Today I saw what looked like a father-and-son duo standing on a street corner holding up large signs that said, “Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life” and “Believe in Jesus.” They weren’t yelling or screaming, just holding up their signs for drivers to see. In fact, the teenager looked like he was kind of trying to hide behind the sign. No heavy-duty “turn or burn” messages… and certainly no mixing of gospel and empire, as depicted to the left. It takes some seriously willful ignorance not to realize the crazy ridiculousness of holding up a sign that says “Trust Jesus” along with clipart (or is it some crazy fundie dingbat that I haven’t seen yet?) of a handgun, tank, and anti-aircraft missiles. And is that a dude high-kicking in the upper left-hand corner?

Other than their theology, missiology, and methodology, the thing that drives me nuts about these kinds of signs are the fonts people use to promote their message — usually something clunky like Impact or Varsity (for that eschatological rah-rah flair). While I might not be as upset as some people are about certain fonts (Comic Sans, in particular), I believe that fonts matter. And not only to us font-nerds, but for legibility, to convey a particular ethos or vibe, and maybe even to get better grades.

It’s time to upgrade to “Repent 2.0” signs.