The Be-Attitudes: Peacemaking or Keeping the Peace? (Sunday’s Sermon Today)

Posted on August 20, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

Blessed are the peacemakers,for they will be called children of God.–Matthew 5:9

I’ve always wanted to be a superhero. Whether it was Superman or Luke Skywalker, I wanted to be the person who would defeat evil and make it so that everyone else would be safe. These were some of the figures of my childhood who embodied “peace and justice,” who seemed to be the kinds of heroes that made peace happen. The world was black and white, and everything ultimately looked good, with no hints of grey, as a child.

I’ll never forget where I was on Tuesday, September 11, 2001. Just months from graduating from seminary, I ran around the halls of the classroom building with everyone else trying to catch bits and pieces of the information that were coming in about the attack on the World Trade Center. This was unlike anything my generation had ever experienced: this was the destruction of security, and safety, and peace as we knew it. Innocence for me, naiveté of the world around us, that was now a thing of the past. The truth is, for the most part, America had lived in a seemingly safe bubble for years, with the Cuban Missile Crisis and Pearl Harbor decades behind us.

The world around us has been dealing with the lack of real peace for years. The world of the Old and New Testaments is ripe with the sense of fear and unrest from the time of Noah through the days of Jesus. But in the midst of all of it, there was hope.

In our scripture today, from the Prophet Isaiah, with words later echoed by Jesus in Matthew:

The people walking in darkness
have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness
a light has dawned.

For the people of Israel, Isaiah’s prophecy was one of a future hope; in Jesus’ words, the same scripture becomes a promise of a kingdom that Jesus brought, even though no one knew it yet. A kingdom that we live in but which is not yet fulfilled or complete.

These words of Isaiah are the stuff of Christmas! Whether you’ve grown up in the church and heard the words over and over again during Advent, or you’re a fan of Handel’s the Messiah, the words roll out a litany of who Jesus is and what he represents:

For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the greatness of his government and peace
there will be no end.
He will reign on David’s throne
and over his kingdom,
establishing and upholding it
with justice and righteousness
from that time on and forever.

I have to admit: that sounds great! I believe that Jesus is all of those things: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. But a world where justice and righteousness exist forever? That sounds almost too good to be true when I watch the news today, when I see the headlines:

-Teen fatally shot by cops

-Suspect in Starbucks attack unfit to stand trial

-Woman gets fifteen years for child porn

-More bombing in the Gaza strip

-Family robbed in own driveway

None of these things fill me with hope. But we’re called to this kingdom, to this following Jesus, to being the children of God. We’re straining toward something different, but the violence is all we seem to know.

We think if the other guy has a gun, then we should have one, too. And if the other guy has a bigger gun, then we better get one, too. We take it nationally to the point where we think the only way to end a war is to blow them away first, to act proactively. But is that real peace or merely ending a conflict by being a bigger bully?

What if it’s supposed to look different?

Rick Love tells of a story that took place during the ongoing wars between Christians and Muslims during the Crusades, St. Francis of Assisi chose to seek out an interview with the sultan of Egypt, to share his faith in Jesus Christ with this Muslim. Recognizing that he was going as a sheep among wolves, he was soundly beaten and captured by the sultan’s men and dragged before the sultan himself.

“Why are you here?” the sultan demanded, knowing full well that it was foolishness for a Christian to make his way into Muslim territories alone.

“Muslims we shall never become,” Francis replied, “but we are messengers from God and we have come to share our faith with you.”

The sultan proved to be taken by their courage and straightforwardness, and gathered the Muslim advisors to hear Francis’ message. Francis focused on the good news of Jesus Christ and begged for the fighting to end; the advisors urged the sultan to behead Francis.

“These men want me to kill you,” the sultan said, “because that’s what our law demands. But I will ignore the law because it would hardly be fitting to respond that way given that you have come here to risk your lives in order to save my soul.”

The good monk was fed and hosted, and freed to come and go as he pleased within in Muslim territories. His freely offered kindness defused a situation that would have otherwise ended bloodily.

But one story won’t turn our hearts around, will it?

What about the story from World War I, told beautifully in the narrative film Joyeux Noel about the ceasefire between the Germans and the Allied forces? About the Germans, French, and Scottish soldiers who defied their superiors and declared that no guns would be fired on Christmas Eve, just because it was Christmas?

What about the mosque in Bon Air that extended its love toward the United Methodist church there on the anniversary of 9/11 by gathering at the UM church with flowers and attending that service? What about the UM response to the mosque by extending the same act of peace and love when various Muslim businesses were targeted several years later?

We understand what ‘not peace’ looks like, but too often we settle for avoiding conflict, or separating ourselves from situations where conflict might occur, or faking our happiness and peace, or simply preventing conflict by “conflict management” instead of actually making peace.

Maybe none of us will immediately impact the world for peace; maybe we’ll never lead a rally that actually changes political decision making.

But what if we would actually experience peace for ourselves? Maybe we should pursue it individually first, then corporately second, and maybe, just maybe, it will begin to run upstream to our community, to our nation, to the world.

Jesus urges his followers to pursue peace by taking the plank out of their own eye first and then working to help the person they are in conflict with to remove their speck (Matthew 7:3-5). Cornelius Plantinga says that this peace is not peace made but God-given shalom: “universal flourishing, wholeness, and delight; the way things out to be.”

It’s that kind of peace that makes us the children of God, and yet we can rarely wrap our minds around it, even for our individual relationships.

I’m reminded of my dad’s swimming coach mottos when I think about being peaceful. More often than not, when it’s about peace, I want the other person to act peaceful, and then (maybe) I’ll do what Jesus might do. That’s when the words come floating back from the pre-swim meet pep talks: “You can’t do anything about the person in the other lane, you can only control what happens in your lane, so do your best.”

But that requires me, you, us, to look at peace differently. To see peace differently before it ever gets to ‘not peace.’

There’s a parable about a town that relied on the tears of a very old dragon to make the crops grow, to renew the spring from which the the town’s water came. Each year on the day set aside as the town ‘celebration,’ a group of the strongest warriors would be gathered and feasted about town. Armed to the teeth and wearing the best armor they could afford, the group would venture into the forest to the dragon’s cave.

Down, down, down into the dragon’s lair, the men would go each year, and each year they would battle the dragon. Each year, they would harvest the dragon’s tears, and each year the dragon sent them back to their village broken and battered, a few warriors less than they had begun. The crops grew meager food and the well gave just enough to get by, but the means of the dragon’s tears allowed them to survive.

When the year had nearly been up, one young warrior-to-be stole away the night before, full of the town’s stories and jokes. Arriving by himself, he stole his way down to the dragon’s lair and softly began to speak from a cleft in a rock. The dragon rose up as if to strike quickly, but listened to the words of the young man. The humor and wit were evident, and the dragon settled back to listen.

Soon, the dragon was laughing, his belly shaking, and a lone tear stole its way to the corner of his eye. Shortly after, the ground began to be pelted by the giant tears of laughter rolling down the dragon’s cheeks, and the little vial that the young man had brought couldn’t hold all of the dragon’s tears.

That year, the crops grew bountifully, and the spring welled up with the purest water.

There were still tears, but this time, they were tears of joy.

I wonder if would see peace differently if we saw ourselves differently. If we saw each other differently.

Too often, we make a major mistake about peace: we think that we’re going to be able to accomplish it by ourselves. 

Let’s be real: I’m not peaceful. I’m not wired to be peaceful. I want to lash out, strike first, make sure that I’m taken care of. 

If I am peaceful AT ALL, it is because I recognize that I can’t do it on my own but have to trust God to help me grow into peace. 

Paul writes to the church in Phillipi:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you. (Philippians 4:6-9)

Do not be anxious? … Think about what is true, and noble, and right, and pure. And peace will be with you.

God’s peace, not your peace or my peace. Because we would be covered in prayer and like-minded with Jesus. Because we would focus on the good and the right and the pure. 

What would that look like in your life?

What would happen if you banished the need to be justified? If you failed to show anger or irritation when someone slighted you? If you made the decision not to be that customer?

This week I found myself tempted twice to speak, and shockingly, chose silence. The first time, I was standing in line at Panera- the only one standing in line- and a woman walked up out of the blue and took her place… in front of me! There was no explanation that I could find to justify her ‘cutting’ me in line, and my first reaction was to say, “Um, excuse me, but I was here first.”

The second time, we were told to speak to a different worker at Walmart, then passed off to wait for a manager at Walmart, only to be told that she couldn’t help us at all! A key was with another manager, no it wasn’t, maybe it was… and finally, after ten or so minutes of watching my children try not to turn the checkout line of Walmart into a gymnasium, the first manager came back with the key. My growing frustration was only egged on by my children’s agitated state… I wanted to comment.

Neither situation is a big deal, right? Neither moment is earth shattering or terrible, but we have an expectation of how the world works: you don’t cut in line and the customer matters most of all!

There’s another story from war that Love tells, this time about a Turkish officer who led the attack on a village, and personally took over an Armenian home. He saw to it that the parents were killed and that the daughters were abused, even participating himself. Finally, the eldest daughter escaped and trained as a nurse. After a time, she found herself nursing in a recovery unit for Turkish officers, and recognized that officer in the midst of her responsibilities. He was dying, and over time, he was nursed back to health by that same woman. Upon hearing a doctor announce that he would’ve died without her care, the officer asked her, “We have met before, haven’t we?” 

“Yes, we’ve met,” she replied.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” 

“Because I am a follower of him who said, ‘Love your enemies.'”

The truth is that we take an attitude of vengeance into the way we drive our cars, the way we vote, and the way we interact with people all the time. And most of us have never faced a situation like that young woman.

But we long to be justified in all aspects of our lives, to be vindicated when we think we’re right, at great cost- including to our families, and our friends, and our coworkers.

We’re pretty selfish- we expect that other people recognize how special we are. We fail to see the way that our words and our actions hurt other people; we see the punch but don’t remember the words that ground the other person down for years that lead up to that fist flying. We say we’d never shoot someone else, but we cut the people we love down with our words all of the time. They’re the ones we know the best, and the ones we feel the least amount of fear from, so why not hang them out to dry?

If we take a good look at the Bible, we recognize that the first conflict occurred when Cain killed Abel. Family first, right? But it’s not actually the first ‘non-peace’ or violence in the Bible. No, that occurred when God showed up to inquire of Adam what had happened with the tree of knowledge, and he replied,

“What had happened was… she made me do it.”

Good work, Adam. You just set the bar for what male-female, husband-wife, confrontations will look like until Jesus comes a second time. But most of us skip right over Adam’s verbal blame because at least he didn’t kill someone.

And somehow, we’ve let not-peace, the aggression toward another person into the room because it’s “not that bad.”

Paul, beaten down and held captive for the sake of the gospel, wrote about peace over and over again. This is a guy who went after other people, Christians, to see them punished because he was so sure he was right in being Jewish! Imagine that apology: “I’m, like, um, terribly sorry I beat you up and arrested your brothers and sisters because, I, like, thought I knew everything. Actually, uh, God is like, way, bigger than I ever could’ve expected…”

You can almost hear him trying to get through to other people who are likeminded to what he used to be in Romans 12:16-18: “Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.”

Paul is writing this two thousand years ago for this guy (pointing at self)!

There’s nothing there that says that just because you’re peaceful, that the other person will respond peacefully, too.

There’s nothing in Paul’s experience that says that if you do the right thing, that other people will treat you correctly. In fact, Paul told slaves to do their best work and be honorable toward their masters even when there was no hope of freedom.

But the ideal here is that we’re living into a peace that will absolutely exist in the future because God has promised it. The words of the Christmas song we’ll sing after the sermon, “Let There Be Peace On Earth,” lay out a framework for the building blocks of how we can live into real peace.

Let there be peace on earth
And let it begin with me.
Let there be peace on earth
The peace that was meant to be.
With God as our father
Brothers all are we.
Let me walk with my brother
In perfect harmony.

We’re supposed to practice it but we have to admit that it exists first- we probably have to experience someone else showing us that kind of love and not-peace before we actually get our ‘aha’ moment, or at least a strong experience of God’s overpowering love for us.

The author of the song, Jill Jackson-Miller told how she came to the words of the song in an interview with NPR on Humankind:

“When I attempted suicide [in 1944] and I didn’t succeed, I knew for the first time unconditional love—which God is. You are totally loved, totally accepted, just the way you are. In that moment I was not allowed to die, and something happened to me, which is very difficult to explain. I had an eternal moment of truth, in which I knew I was loved, and I knew I was here for a purpose.”

Jackson wrote the lyrics in 1955 and her husband Sy Miller wrote the melody as they experienced a group of nearly two hundred teens, gathered to explore friendship and understanding each other. Representing a diversity of nations and races, they sang the song together, living it out in their community as they reflected over the words of the song.

The song urges us to remember that we are not “other” but brothers and sisters, that we are not competitors or opponents but strangers who have not become friends yet. The song echoes the teachings of Jesus and Paul, who lay out the way that God expects us to act toward peace:

Love your enemies. 

Turn the other cheek. 

Love your neighbor as yourself. 

Pray for those who hurt you.

Do good for those who mistreat you.

Bless those who curse you. 

Peacemaking means that we can’t sit on the sidelines; we can’t hide our eyes and act like the injustices in our families and communities will go away. It doesn’t mean that we feel peaceful or that we necessarily fully understand what loving people who don’t love us back looks like. It doesn’t mean that we’re in a court of law where someone is right or someone is wrong like Judge Judy.

Peacemaking doesn’t even mean that we are necessarily going to create peace. It just means that we are choosing to control what we can control: that as far as it is possible with us, we will live in peace.

That we will be the good guys, by following the best Guy, that we will do what’s right, that in that moment, we will be who we’ve always wanted to be.

Peace is not easy; peace is complicated, and sometimes painful, and always a journey. 

So what attitude about life do you need to change this week?

Who do you need to love peacefully even if they don’t offer peace back?

Who do you need to intercede for that they may experience peace from the hurt they receive?

How can you model your life after Jesus, who chose to take the beatings that weren’t his to receive, to suffer the pain that he didn’t deserve for you and me?

I leave you today with one last (real life) example of freedom from not peace and the embrace of real peace, from one of my favorite movies of all time that no one has seen: To End All Wars. The screenplay is by Brian Godawa, but it’s the real-life story of Ernest Gordon, a Scot who became the chaplain at Princeton University after World War II. Abused and beaten down by the Japanese soldiers who controlled the prisoner of war camp, and forced to help build the Burmese Railway, Gordon makes the decision to not seek justice and violence on those who had mistreated him. Instead, he cares for their wounded and puts his life on the line so that even the head of the camp will be spared. Gordon recognizes that if he acts in violence and anger, he is no better than those who hurt him. As he wrote in his memoir:

“What is the final destination of hatred? When you look in the eyes of the enemy and you see yourself… at what price, mercy? Who is my neighbor? What does it mean to love ones enemies? What can a man give in exchange for his soul? These are the questions I asked during my time in the camps… the answers changed my life forever.“

Peace will win. What we can control is whether we will be part of it or not.

 

I found Rick Love’s book, Peace Catalysts, to be quite helpful as I prepared for this sermon, thanks to his take on peace theologically and his experiences in working toward peace in real life. Check it out here.

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FF Rant: Hit The Alarm Clock (Sleepers & Bounceback Candidates 2014)

Posted on August 20, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

For this year’s sleepers write-up, I’m ignoring the top fifty players on my draft board. For the record, I had the rough draft of the list done by July 20 and have updated it with preseason games and additional information available. But these are not your top picks… just ones that could give you the edge.

Bishop Sankey, Tennessee Titans running back. The first running back taken in the 2014 draft (at number 54), Sankey steps into a running situation where Shonn Greene is the only incumbent (Chris Johnson is a Jet now), the offensive line is strong, the Titans don’t want Jake Locker throwing thirty times a game, and Ken Whisenhunt still likes Pittsburgh Steelers football. Opportunities are everything…but down the line, we might care more about Tre Mason or Carlos Hyde. [Production-wise, see also: Toby Gerhart]

Reggie Wayne, Indianapolis Colts wide receiver. Seriously?! This guy is in a top 5/8 offense, with another top-15 wideout and a top-15 quarterback. Besides the injury, what was there to complain about with his effort or output last year? [Injury bounce back, see also: Roddy White]

Rashad Jennings, New York Giants running back. The whole NYG offense could be a bounce back candidate, but no one seems to be talking about Jennings, who was fine as a Raider and now moves to a real organization. Eli Manning will throw for his, but someone has to run the ball, and they really don’t want to turn to Peyton Hillis again. [New guy in a good spot, see also: Emmanuel Sanders]

Aaron Dobson, Justin Hunter or Markus Wheaton. This trio of wide receivers, from the Patriots, Titans, and Steelers, all have me thinking that they’re worth a shot because someone on those teams has to catch the ball (especially as a second banana to Julius Edelman and Antonio Brown, respectively, for the Pats and Steelers). [Someone has to step up, see also: Rueben Randle, Jarret Boykin]

Kyle Rudolph, Minnesota Vikings tight end. If I’m in a deep league, or someone wants to show off with several TE picks, I’m looking at Rudolph, the surest handed pass-catcher the Vikings have. (Seriously, you’re going to guess on Greg Jennings or Cordelle Patterson?) Enter Norv Turner, the offensive coordinator behind Antonio Gates and Jordan Cameron’s rise(s). [Old guy, new system, see also: Jordan Reed]

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Gregg Hurwitz’s Don’t Look Back: Face Your Fear (Book Review)

Posted on August 19, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

Familiar with Gregg Hurwitz’s work on Batman: The Dark Knight (nineteen issues), I dove into his latest thriller, Don’t Look Back, and knocked it out in one sitting. Reading like a movie script, or a Harlan Coben/Linwood Barclay “normal person in an abnormal situation” placed ‘afar,’ the novel follows recently separated Eve Hardaway to southern Mexico, where she goes to clear her head over her husband’s infidelity and to capitalize on their already-paid-for romantic vacation. But what awaits Eve in the jungles is far from Eden, as she finds herself locked in a battle to ever see her son again.

Readers should be aware that this isn’t some goofy, environmentalist drivel with sentient vegetation like The Ruins; there is a very bad man who cowers the locals and has already committed murder lurking in the jungle, along with jaguars, killer ants, and crocodiles. This California nurse finds herself clutching her knowledge of science (physics and chemistry mostly) to stay one step ahead of this killer as he picks off the other participants in her expedition one by one like Ten Little Indians. Sure, this might be categorized in “horror,” but this Lord of the Flies deathmatch has more of a psychological feel.

Eve went to the jungle, but if she’s going to go home, she can’t leave the same.

I’m sure this could be Hurwitz’s use of a name he liked, but calling his main character “Eve” screams of a first woman or, at least, a new creation. The elements of the struggle once the enemy is identified and the fight has begun do include some banter, philosophical arguments, and the usual betrayal by some who should be on her side. There’s even a cautionary tale about those who have become so ruthlessly fanatic about their belief system that they hold no hope for others, and their justifications for damnable behavior becomes absolute.

But more importantly, there’s the internal monologue about fear, about family, about standing up and fighting back against an evil that others have allowed. This is a new birth for Eve Hardaway, from pressed-upon, regret-filled cuckolded wife, to proud, strong, hear-me-roar woman with a future. (In a strange, “this is how my brain works,” I found myself thinking about Demi Moore in G.I. Jane.)

Hurwitz has created an emotionally-charged thriller, grounded in reality, and we believe in Eve Hardaway, even as she comes to believe in herself.

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William Kent Krueger’s Windigo Island: Born Ogichidaa Stand Against Evil (Book Review)

Posted on August 19, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

Intrigued by what I read about William Kent Krueger’s Windigo Island, the thirteenth book in the Cork O’Connor series and his sixteenth overall, I reached out to the author himself and quickly received an autographed advanced copy for review. The series of stories about the cop-turned-private investigator won an Edgar in 2013 for Tamarack Island, and now find Krueger’s protagonist searching for a disappeared Native American teenager. Set against a backdrop of drugs and prostitution, the novel examines the mystery of young Mariah’s disappearance in a story that is both criminal procedural and spiritual journey.

Krueger hooked me immediately with the Native American parable via O’Connor about the two wolves that live inside of each person, a story I heard for the first time a few months ago, but one I’ve considered frequently since. O’Connor is joined in this pursuit by his daughter Jenny, who feels called by the spirit world to be involved. The strong transcendent flair of the book made me think of John Connolly’s Charlie Parker thrillers, where Parker himself is a Sixth Sense-like private investigator, seeing the spiritual evils in the decisions of mere mortals.

But the best comparison I could make? The western-driven work of Craig Johnson that have inspired the work of Robert Taylor in Longmire. It’s often an examination of real crime that could occur anywhere, filtered through the clash of cultures between the various offshoots of Native American culture and the European descendants of white settlers. O’Connor’s Irish and Native blend adds to that here: is he an insider or an outsider? And yet, it doesn’t absolutely matter: he is an agent of the truth, of justice. He is ogichidaa, a person raised up by the spiritual world, by the battle of the two wolves, to stand against evil in whatever form it may rise.

“Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves?” No, that’s not a quote from Windigo Island but from the United Methodist Church’s (of which I am an ordained elder) Baptismal Vows. And it came to mind as I watched Krueger work through O’Connor. Not everyone (even the good ones) accepts the challenge to resist evil; some of the evil done here is the work of ignorance and a turning away. Our vows, and O’Connor’s calling, require proactive resistance. This is an entertaining book but it’s also one with a clear message:

When it comes to child abuse and human trafficking, the sooner the world sits up and does something about it, the sooner we can say that everyone is free.

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Strangers, All Of Us (A Mustard Seed Musing)

Posted on August 18, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

More often than not, I don’t wade into the world of politics and legal matters. My worldview is just too small, too focused on my community and what I can do to make it work right. But the images and issues of illegal immigrants have been on my mind, and I’ve found myself drawn into conversation around these people and this issue over and over again. But it’s an issue with complications because we are people and we’re complicated, and the people who cross our borders without proper identification, well, their lives are complicated, too.

If I’m honest with myself, I’ll recognize that my ancestors were illegal immigrants, too. Sure, they came and “bartered” with the Native Americans who lived here, but for the most part, they tricked and bullied their way into the majority. In fact, when it comes down to the “First Thanksgiving,” my ancestors would’ve never survived if they hadn’t been taken in by those who received them. I have to recognize that “to the victor goes the spoils,” as we’ve claimed this land as our own, but it also means that we’ve written the history books the way we see it. [This also became abundantly clear to me as someone who grew up in New England and migrated to south of the Mason-Dixon line in the mid-1990s: the War of Southern Secession versus the War of Northern Aggression!]

I also recognize that I would do anything to take care of my family. Better healthcare, jobs, security, freedom is over there? Let’s break into Canada! [Okay, maybe that’s a stretch: I like neither poutine nor hockey.] But just like my ancestors left England and the rest of Europe, citing a need for religious freedom, I would be strongly inclined to leave if it meant that my children would grow up without fear of persecution. Rival gangs, drug use, poor living conditions, no jobs… are we talking current conditions in Mexico or seventeenth century Europe?

Again, politically, legally, all of that stuff isn’t really my bailiwick. I understand that’s all tricky. I just question how I as a follower of Jesus Christ living America should respond? And yes, all of that history comes into play for me. But so does the narrative of Hebrews 11 (you can pick which time “stranger” gets used in the Bible for a fun, topical read).

“By faith Abraham when called to go to a place he would later received as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country… [He] did not receive the things promised; [he] only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that [he was] a foreigner and stranger on earth” [Hebrews 11:8-9, 13b]

I’m a stranger. I don’t belong here. I am ‘not of this world’ as some have said. Frankly, all of us are strangers, none of us belong here, none of us are intended for the world as it currently exists.

If we lived like that, illegal immigration wouldn’t be the last issue we talked together in a different way.

 

 

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Michael Sloan’s The Equalizer: The Odds Are Stacked (Book Review)

Posted on August 18, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

A month before the film starring Denzel Washington hits the big screen in late September, Michael Sloan’s The Equalizer novel debuts. Based on the character Robert McCall that Edward Woodward played for four seasons in the early 1980s, Sloan’s protagonist services in New York City when he breaks his “silence” and saves a prostitute from abuse by her pimp, and rekindles his desire for peacekeeping and violence. Before too long, McCall is up against a long-forgotten enemy, a shadowy Russian organization with its tendrils in the United States.

Sloan, known for his work on various television shows, delivers a strong novel that spans nearly five hundred pages, all of which are rich in background, clever dialogue, and explosive action. It’s not necessarily the “script” of the upcoming Denzel Washington headliner, given that McCall here is more Woodward (a younger version of Michael Caine) and the film will move the action to Boston. But it is that exciting, as McCall starts to realize that he can’t ignore the problems of those around him anymore.

Lurking on the sidelines is McCall’s old unit, The Company, a version of the CIA. Some of his old compadres still care about him,  and they become partners in his efforts to free a Russian mother and daughter from the grip of a Russian who once tangled with McCall. Other less honorable side characters show up in the persons of the pimp who wants revenge, and a stalker who doesn’t recognize McCall cares for his target.

The cover echoes the old Equalizer tagline: “Got a problem? Odds against you?” but here, it seems that the odds can’t be beatable. There’s no way McCall can overcome all of that… can he? [I was having childhood flashbacks to The A-Team.] But that’s the spirit of the book that made it so amazingly engaging, as McCall hops from one fire to the next, putting them out with necessary (but not gratuitous) force. The only snag in the flow occurred when the novel flashed back to an old mission that involved the contemporary players, but it proved to shine a light on why McCall is, well, McCall.

I can’t wait to see the film, but this book is absolutely readable, a must for fans of Robert Ludlum, James Rollins, and Robert Parker. I think I’ll give it a year or two and read it again.

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View From The Shore #6: Even The Broken Are Beautiful (A Mustard Seed Musing)

Posted on August 16, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

On the last day at the beach (sigh!), we took a walk, looking for shells. Along the way, we rescued a puffer fish, by far the coolest animal we saw this trip [for the record, we also saw dolphin fish, tuna, ghost crabs, sand sharks, and mullet], delighting everyone. There’s just something about rescuing something that brings out the best in all of us.

But this walk was all about the shells. Big shells, little shells, colorful shells, smooth shells. We rated them based on our preference, and even collected some to take home with us for artistic endeavors. And it’s in the shells, or in my youngest’s perception of them, that I found my final lesson from this year’s beach week.

None of my three-year-old’s favorite shells were the same.

None of them were shells that would’ve caught my attention.

None of them were ‘whole’ or by most accounts beautiful.

But to my three-year-old, they were special. My three-year-old couldn’t see them for their spots, or their fragmented, broken appearance. To him, they were perfect.

I wonder what the world would look like if we recognized the beauty in our brokenness. Or the beauty in someone else’s brokenness.

The longer I live, the longer I’m someone’s pastor, the more I realize that we’re all broken. Some of us know it and hide it. Some of us don’t know it or don’t want to recognize it. But if we’re willing to boldly admit our weaknesses, our failures, our pains and our scars, that’s when we can get somewhere. That’s when our brokenness can be perfection because in admitting it, we often help someone else.

If you’re reading this, I want you to know that God looks at you and sees beauty, and perfection, and amazing … you. God sees that you were made in the image of God, that God judges the inside heart of a person not their outward appearance (check out I Samuel 16!) God sees you as the beautiful person who is on God’s refrigerator picture hall of fame!

Maybe you’re reading this and no one ever told you that you were special, and beautiful, and wonderful. Sometimes, we critique the people closest to us the most. [In fact, I’m going to stop right now and go remind the people closest to me that they’re beautiful and special people, no matter what. Be back in a minute…]

I thank God for long walks on the beach. And for shells of every shape and size.

My three-year-old sees beauty I don’t, or can’t see. He sees beauty in the broken.

Thank God that’s what God sees when he looks at me.

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View From The Shore #5: Duck Donuts & The Main Thing (A Mustard Seed Musing)

Posted on August 15, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

Early in the morning (for me, anyway), I headed out for the Duck Donuts experience. Arriving by 8 a.m., I stood in line for close to a half hour to collect the ‘bucket’ of donuts my family would dine on for breakfast. Made from scratch (a la Krispy Kreme) in front of me, each donut was crafted ‘made to order’. [For the record, they were all delicious.] And as different moments have pointed to me this week, I was struck by the shop’s ability to keep their “main thing the main thing.”

A few years ago, a youth minister friend of mine (Joe Torrence) talked about the beauty of Chick-fil-A. You go to Chick-fil-A if you want chicken. You can get it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. You can’t get beef; you can’t get the lobster roll. But if you’re in the mood for fried chicken, and you can’t get to Zaxby’s (or stomach KFC), you go to Chick-fil-A. And people line up in extraordinarily long lines to get their chicken (and maybe their sweet tea and milkshakes, too)!

The same principle was in play at Duck Donuts this morning. Dunkin Donuts is down the street; there’s a Starbucks in Kitty Hawk and Kill Devil Hills Coffee, too. But people were willing to line up for THIRTY MINUTES and wind around a line outside of the store to get their donuts. Because Duck Donuts does donuts and they do them well.

Back to Joe. Joe proposed that the church(es) should consider what they do so well that people would line up to come, and then come back for more. Could it be the donuts? Well, okay, the fellowship? Could it be the discipleship and openness to questions/learning? Could it be the worship experience and the depth of music and art? Could it be the family focus, or the elderly focus? Could it be the mission, aimed at improving the lives of those in its community or around the world?

Sure, McDonald’s has been in business for a long time. Diversifying (the McRib, anyone? And the aforementioned lobster roll, fishamajig, etc.) has served them well in longevity, but people are busting down the door of specialization-focused places like Chick-fil-A. And Duck Donuts. And Krispy Kreme. (You can fill in the blank.) Those other places suffer from a lack of identity, a lack of what makes them significantly stand above the fray, especially in a fast-food world that now boasts the likes of Johnny Rocket’s, Sonic, Hardees, etc.

Our church identity seems to be in flux, too. In a world that wants to define what topics are “ours,” and what topics aren’t, we’re pushed into conversations that are drawn up for us, like homosexuality, alien immigration, science versus faith (emphasis on ‘versus’), etc. If we knew who we were and what we were about in a way that was bold and upfront, there’d be less space to cram us into, because we’d already occupy the ‘market’ we were supposed to be in.

What would it look like if our church was as focused as Chick-fil-A or Duck Donuts? What would it look like if we were known for something, so amazing, that people would line up for hours?

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Warrior: Fight For Your Family (DVD Review)

Posted on August 15, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

At Hollywood Jesus, we’re doing a month-long look at our favorite Indie movies, and this one is one of the best! A story about love, family, forgiveness, and … MMA(?!), it takes our struggles and makes them physical as two brothers try to figure out how to make sense of their past, their present, and their futures. Enjoy… then go check out the other reviews posting at HJ.

I’m no fan of MMA but I saw Warrior nearly by accident and was hooked instantaneously. Set against the backdrop of a pro-am MMA challenge, Tom Hardy’s depiction of Tommy Riordan, as a tortured Marine, served in sharp contrast to Joel Edgerton’s portrayal of his high school teacher brother, Brendan, as both sought the approval of their now-sobered father’s, Paddy (Nick Nolte). As both advance in the tournament, aiming to win $5 million dollars, one for the family of a fallen comrade and the other to keep his family from being foreclosed on, the two brothers verbally spar with each other and their father over the drug use, sickness, and divorce that ripped their family apart. What draws them together is a male-order version of “talking things out,” but this type involves four fists and a cage.

I’m not pro-fighting, but I recognize that Gavin O’Connor’s best story to date depicts a metaphysical healing taking place on a completely different level. Both brothers have reason to be upset with each other, angry at their father, distrustful of the world they’ve been told to exist in. Tommy’s denial of a good god isn’t rejection that God exists, but a questioning after what it means for us to suffer and survive. Tommy’s anger is really an outward symptom of his inner pain, exploding in a flurry of fists on unsuspecting fighters who don’t really stand a chance. It’s actually tied to Tommy’s own actions, decisions, and consequences. Tommy is actually most like Paddy, who listens to Moby Dick, and grieves Ahab’s quest for a whale out of reach; is the desire to be known, to be accepted, to be loved and forgiven, too much for either of these men to ever really achieve?

On the other side, Brendan fights for different reasons. Quite literally, he fights for love, for family, for home, and a future. He fights for what the world could be like rather than what it was like or what he’s angry to have missed out on. He fights, even as others doubt him, even as the commentators (their thoughts are hilarious the second time around) throw him under the bus. He fights to win, rather than not to lose, urged on by Frank Grillo’s Frank Campala (in Grillo’s best role to date). With his wife, his family, his school behind him, this is not <em>Here Comes The Boom</em>, this is grit, and heart, and family, and a “worked out” forgiveness all packaged in one battle. But in a championship tournament, only one brother can walk away as the champion, only one brother can win the $5 million.

I don’t know about you, but I’d like to think that I’d do anything for my family. I’d like to believe I would suffer, fight, sweat, even die, to keep my family safe, to take care of them. But I know that family can be tough; the people who know us the best are also the ones who can hurt us the most. The fractures in Paddy’s family aren’t ones I’ve lived through but they are ones I understand. Who can bear the weight of those things? Who can survive? Obviously, these three men are struggling through, not surviving, and it would take a great feat to bring them together, to help them build community, to build family, again in a way that would help them heal. In the end, forgiveness would be necessary, grace would have to wash over all of them. Sometimes though, forgiveness must be worked through, as a process, with sweat and blood, not easily surrendered but rather fought for. Sometimes, others fight for that forgiveness for us, like Jesus did on the cross; sometimes, we have to fight for ourselves.

Want to reconsider your family? Want to make things right? Check out the ending of this movie, and leave the tissues behind– I dare you.

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View From The Shore #4: Big Fish, Little Fish (A Mustard Seed Musing)

Posted on August 14, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

Two encounters with fish today come easily to mind upon reflection. Even casual readers of the blog have probably noticed an uptick in fishing references, as it’s become a hobby lately. Fishing in itself can be a maddening, invigorating, relaxing, and boring all at once. But the comparisons to life, and a life of faithfulness, come abundantly to the forefront, even if the fish are more evasive!

Sometime this afternoon, we discovered that tiny schools of fish were rolling in with the tide. Upon closer inspection, many of the fish resembled tiny sand sharks; whether or not they were actually of the shark “family,” is beyond me. But we were determined to catch one… and we were quickly joined by several other families with small children, and even a few teenagers, who wanted to be the first one to catch a ‘baby shark.’ We never did catch one, but we had fun laughing as we raced ridiculously after fish that proved to be smarter than expected.

Later, we drove to a fishing marina to await the daily return of the charter fishing boats. Boats that had caught (and released) blue marlin, as well as those that returned with tuna, dolphin (fish), and others, rolled in and threw their catches out on the pier in front of their boats as onlookers gawked at the size of their catch. But some of the boats returned with next-to-nothing: some of these captains seemed intent on hurrying their clients down the gangway with hardly a word or a picture, while others were more inclined to recognize that the sea just hadn’t rolled their way today.

In both cases, we saw the way that fish were elusive, but we also saw the way that the search or the joy of fishing could bring people together. As I reflect a bit on the life of our church, I recognize that we are often at our best when we are “fishing together,” willing to be completely unburdened by expectations or the weight of others’ judgment. When we are willing to wade in, fight the waves, and follow where the ‘Captain’ leads us, we may have success; when we go after the bold or the new and untried, we may find ourselves without the right equipment at first, and fail to catch the elusive ‘baby sharks.’

Either way, there’s always the next time, to be better prepared (with a net and not a bucket?) and to recognize that sometimes, the fishing effort has its own benefits as well.

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