An Olympic Spirit? Not So Much (A Mustard Seed Musing)

Posted on February 10, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

The original Olympic Games were initially part of a festival that celebrated the mighty godhead of Zeus, with protection provided for all of the athletes (theoretically, by Zeus himself). Much has changed since the games originated in Greece, even since Pierre Coubertin “reinvented” the games with Citius, Altius, Fortius as a motto and the credo that “The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well.” But has so much changed that the meaning of the Games have been lost?

A quick spin through #Sochiproblems on Twitter recounts plenty of problems with this year’s Olympic Games in Sochi, Russia. Hotels with no floors or nobs on doors because of rushed construction, conjunctivitis for national treasure (?) Bob Costas from a hotel pillowcase, and protests over Russian laws against homosexuality are problematic black eyes (sorry, Bob) on the quadrennial event.

Alexander Putin’s Olympic Games will have cost nearly ten times as much to pull off as the Vancouver Games did, not least because the beach town of Sochi isn’t a natural snow element in February. But if the incompletely lit Olympic rings at the opening ceremony are an ironic indication, Russia has failed to ‘fake it’ as well as China did at the Beijing Olympics. This communism thing isn’t about everyone having something equally, but about some getting really, really, really rich.

If Russia spent nearly $70 billion on the Olympic Games, but not on door knobs, hygiene, and goodwill, where did it go? If the Olympics are about the best that we can be, celebrating our strength and spirit as creations of the divine, then what does it say when corruption reigns supreme? Can the world really turn a blind eye to laws that prejudice, money that is misspent on a national level, and a coverup that isn’t even cosmetically deep?

It appears we may well be able to do that, because frankly, it seems that we let our sense of sports, and national pride, and economics blind us to the dirty underbelly of our own communities. That’s a far cry from “thy kingdom come,” and demands we do more than just pray it: we may actually need to mean it if we expect anything to change.

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Red Rising: Bloodydamn Epic Mars (Book Review)

Posted on February 10, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

“Ender, Katniss, and now Darrow.” That’s thriller author Scott Sigler’s recommendation on the front cover of newcomer Pierce Brown’s debut novel, Red Rising, that chronicles lowbred Red miner Darrow’s improbable infiltration of the Gold hierarchy on the planet Mars. It’s heady praise by comparison, but after reading the first in what is sure to be a series, I’m convinced that this Hunger Games-for-adults is just what I’ve been looking for in adult fiction.

Darrow is content to lay low, do his job, and suffer silently as a Red, the lowest caste in the Mars system. It’s his job to harvest helium-3, and he scrapes by. But his wife, Eo, has different plans for them, and suddenly, Darrow is thrust into the role of revolutionary. An unwilling participant at first, he goes where Katniss and Ender did not: he becomes one of the oppressors, entering into the Lord of the Flies/Battle Royale culling that is the Golds’ training of their young, a mess of death and destruction indeed. It’s political games a la Game of Thrones but with even more riding on it than simple rule.

Brown has captured fantastically the realm of science fiction, in a world that has moved from vampires to zombies and now, dystopian futures! But his writing isn’t the whiny romance of Twilight or solely the noble mimicking of Avatar. Instead, he rolls in the psychological work of the Stanford prison experiment (and Flies) in a way that we see ourselves mirrored in Darrow’s tale. [Seriously, does anyone, even the rich, ever read a novel or watch a movie like this, and sympathize with the oppressors?] Sure, this is bloodydamn entertaining, but it’s also a look at what it means to be truly human, truly advanced, truly moral.

I fear telling too much for what I might give away, but in Darrow’s transition, his mission as a Red-turned-Gold insider, we see him discovering that decisions aren’t as easy as black and white. I found myself wondering how Moses of the Old Testament might’ve related to Darrow, as a slave-born baby growing up as one of the Pharaoh’s sons? I wondered what we might’ve seen from the early disciples or Jesus himself, as some even call Darrow ‘Messiah,’ in an unexpected twist. Still, there’s the way Darrow grows as a leader that struck me… hard.

At one point in his development, Darrow sees the difference between ‘slaving’ and ‘discipling.’ He recognizes that fear only drives a person’s obedience or loyalty so far, but love … love does something different. When he chooses to bear the scars of one of his own, he unites those who follow him in a way that is breath-taking. And incarnational. For me, following Jesus means recognizing that Jesus loved me first, that Jesus lived life here on Earth so that I would recognize that he knew what it was like, that I would understand his expectations and model weren’t just handed down from on high. Darrow takes the life on for himself and earns the love of his fellowman (echoing Katniss’ taking of Prim’s place in the selection for the Hunger Games, but magnified exponentially).

Pierce Brown has me hooked, and I can’t wait to see what comes next for Darrow. It’s my first favorite book of 2014, and merits a trip to the bookstore or Amazon. With haste.

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Grace Unplugged: The Prodigal Way (Movie Review)

Posted on February 8, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

AJ Michalka is a Christian musician in her own right, but in Grace Unplugged, she plays a young lady who longs to transition from church worship musician to full-time superstar. Grace longs to be respected and accepted by her rockstar-turned-worship leader father (James Denton) and mother (Shawnee Smith). But her father’s concerns about the rock’n’roll lifestyle prevent him from accepting her desires to explore writing non-worship music and playing in non-faith-based settings, leading to her departure from home.

Grace Unplugged plays out like “The Parable of the Prodigal Son” in musical talent long form. We watch Grace engaging people of faith by her father’s side, and we see her start to figure out that maybe she has some gifts that could be used for more than ‘just’ inside of a worship service. When her dad’s old manager (Kevin Pollack) shows up, fresh on some raw conversations about her future, Grace is drawn to the lifestyle of fame and fortune in Hollywood.

Grace gets all of the negative, fame cliches in a middle third of the film. She is given a new name, finds fame and depressing isolation, sees that people want to be with her for her fame and not for her personality, discovers that money can’t really fulfill her, etc. She shuns her family, her old friend, and begins to see that the whole process is skewed toward ‘producing’ stars.

Honestly, I found myself siding with Grace for most of the film. Sure, she’s pursuing something that isn’t healthy (the way it plays out) but doesn’t she have a right to explore her own gifts and graces? Isn’t one of the problems in the church today that for too long, we’ve watched others define what was sacred and what was secular, when maybe it’s about both and neither? Maybe Grace is right to want to reach a bigger stage, and maybe she needs her family to support her so that she’ll be her best.

I’ve been notoriously hard on Christian movies; that is, I’ve often been unimpressed by those movies that said they were Christian to play to a Christian audience. But this one, with Michalka reasonably presenting a young musician trying to find her way, gives us a legitimate look at the cost of fame, without getting too preachy. (Seriously, it IS preachy, but not any more than a Lifetime original that wants us to support schools, or end domestic violence. This preaching point just involves the use of our gifts.)

Sure, there are segments that play out in church, or include prayer or mentions of God. But ultimately, this is about us recognizing that we have gifts to be used and working to decide how to use them. Anyone with a dream, anyone with a passion, anyone with detractors can relate to the questions that Grace Unplugged raises. And anyone with relationships that need reconciled can admit that the only thing that can fix them is genuine forgiveness.

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Sunday’s Sermon Today: Forgive Us, We’re Sorry (Matthew 18:23-35)

Posted on February 5, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

Malcolm Gladwell is not a person inclined to believe in things he can’t see. The author of The Tipping Point and several other books about how we look at the world, Gladwell’s recent book, David & Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits, & The Art of Battling Giants, took him to the home of Cliff and Wilma Derksen of Winnipeg. Thirty years ago, their daughter, Candace, had disappeared and all of Winnipeg had searched with them. A week later, their daughter’s body was discovered less than a mile from their home where she had been held captive. Cliff was considered the top suspect, but as they stood in front of the news cameras thirty years ago, they had this to say about whoever had taken their daughter:

“We would like to know who the person or persons are so we could share, hopefully, a love that seems to be missing in these people’s lives.”

Whoa!! What? The Derksens, who you can read more about here, said they weren’t ready to call what they felt ‘forgiveness,’ but there’s a lot more grace than they were expected to share, wasn’t there?

In our story today, there’s a man, let’s call him Frank, who owed ten thousand bags of gold, let’s call that $1 million dollars, to the king. The king was settling up with everyone, making right what they owed to him so that he could see where he stood. And when he was called into the king’s court, Frank had no way to pay the debt back.

The king ordered that Frank, Frank’s wife, Frank’s children, and all of Frank’s possessions be sold to repay the debt. The king was basically trading all of their lives and stuff, everything they had accumulated to that point just to pay back a little bit of what they owed.

Can you imagine that moment? Can you put yourself in the position of Frank, who is looking at his wife, his kids, his pile of stuff, and realizing that his life really is about to get worse? That you would never see your family again. That you would never go home again. That you would never be free again.

At which point, Frank falls down on his knees and begs. Not, casual on the side of the road, thumb in the air, kind of hoping that you’ll get a ride. No, this is leap in front of the car, throw yourself and go for broke, need. Frank begs his king to be patient, and to give him a chance to pay it back.

Now, I’m not sure why, but in this particular story, the king shows mercy. The king sees the begging and it appears genuine, it is heartfelt, and he cancels the debt and let them go. One minute, he is at rock bottom; the next minute, he’s on cloud nine! Not only did he not lose his wife, his kids, and all he had, but what he makes from now on is his, because he doesn’t owe the king anymore!

Happily ever after, no?

But on leaving the king’s court, Frank runs into another servant, a peer of his, let’s call him Joe. And Joe owes a hundred silver coins, let’s call that $400. Frank grabs Joe by the throat and demands that he pay back the money!

Joe begs, you can almost imagining him crying, sobbing big, snotty, inglorious tears, and he says what Frank has said moments before: ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay it back.’

But Frank refuses, and has Joe thrown in prison. Frank, who was forgiven $1 million dollars won’t forgive a debt of a few hundred dollars. It’s like a bad case of Judge Joe Brown, here! But that’s not how Jesus’ parable ends.

It says that Joe and Frank’s peers see what’s happened and they report back to the king. The king who has now had his moment of magnanimous altruism undone. The king who set the example for what forgiveness should look like has seen it completely undone by a mere servant. So, the king calls Frank in, and recaps the situation.

“I freed you. I forgave your debt because you repented. Shouldn’t you have forgiven your friend, Joe?” And with a snap of his fingers, Frank is handed over to the jailer forever. Or until he could pay back his debt. Which he could not pay back while he was being beaten in jail.

And then Jesus closes with: “This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

Do you think God puts a high value on mercy and forgiveness? Do you think that there’s something going on when Jesus cries from the cross, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do!”? Maybe, if we’re going to say we’re followers of Jesus, we better take a good long look at this whole forgiveness thing.

After totally botching his job as king by lusting after Bathsheba, sleeping with Bathsheba, and having her husband murdered to cover it up, King David received his comeuppance and cried out to God in Psalm 51.

“Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love;
according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.
Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.

“For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me.
Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight;
so you are right in your verdict and justified when you judge.

“Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.  Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice. Hide your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquity.

“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.”

Do you need to stop and pray that Psalm, that prayer? Let’s take a minute, and reflect on the ways we have sinned against God. Turn to Psalm 51 and pray those words.

One of the things about forgiveness is that when we recognize that we’ve been forgiven, then it allows us to be more forgiving ourselves. If we recognize how much God has saved us from, then we recognize that we don’t really have any room to not forgive someone else. Casting Crowns puts it like this

“Jesus, friend of sinners, we have strayed so far away
We cut down people in your name but the sword was never ours to swing
Jesus, friend of sinners, the truth’s become so hard to see
The world is on their way to You but they’re tripping over me
Always looking around but never looking up I’m so double minded
A plank eyed saint with dirty hands and a heart divided.”

“Oh Jesus, friend of sinners
Open our eyes to the world at the end of our pointing fingers
Let our hearts be led by mercy
Help us reach with open hearts and open doors
Oh Jesus, friend of sinners, break our hearts for what breaks yours.”

What would it look like if our hearts were broken? If we actually saw people around us the way that Jesus does. Our spouses. Our children. Our parents. Our co-workers, neighbors, high school nemeses and high school sweethearts.

I wonder what would happen if even when our lives hung in the balance, if we would be more like… You think I’m going to say, “Jesus,” don’t you?

Captain Phillips.

When Phillips is finally taken prisoner by the Somalian pirate crew, the movie’s tension is dialed up to the point of near explosive forces. When the U.S. military arrived on the scene, I was reminded of a secondhand recounting of Phillips’ comment that went something like ‘one minute I was sitting there, surrounded by pirates, and the next minute, I was all by myself, and the blood all over me wasn’t mine.’ Someone had to pay, right?

The beauty of the film is that Phillips spends the entire time working to save lives. First, he ‘takes one for the team,’ by drawing the attention to himself and refusing his crew’s help. Second, he tries to talk Muse and the other pirates into peaceful submission, or at least, some way of saving face. He works harder to save their lives than he does to save his own! It literally plays out like “pre-emptive forgiveness,” like “Father, please forgive them for they know not what they do.” Phillips doesn’t want anyone to die, and even though he’s the first one in the line of fire, his goodness shines through.

If Captain Phillips didn’t choose that route, facing down armed men with malice, then why should we get so upset about getting cut off in the parking lot or, worse yet, some imagined slight? Maybe the next time, we should channel our own Captain Phillips and practice a little compassion.

Could that happen this week? Could you apologize for something that you weren’t directly responsible for? Could we as a community start to build reconciliation?

I want to apologize to you today for the times that the Church has hurt you, for the times it failed to be the church community you needed. Some of you reading this (or in church this morning) have never interacted with me before: I’m still sorry.

I want to apologize to you for the parents who failed to be the Father and Mother that made you see God as a loving Father or Mother. I want to tell you that I’m sorry for the times that church was more about judgment, more about criticism, more about ‘thou shalt not’ than ‘Jesus loves you.’

I want to claim in the name of Jesus, as we do in our Baptismal covenant, that you are forgiven, and I hope that some of you instantly responded, ‘In the name of Jesus, YOU are forgiven,’ back to me. 

I want to live into a reality where we are ‘slow to anger and abounding in love‘. I want to recognize that I believe in the best of those around me, and that they believe in my best, too.

Forgiving a debt isn’t just financial, or relational, or an ‘easy out.’ Choosing to live that was is ridiculously different– and it impacts others.

Malcolm Gladwell, the sociologist/writer from the beginning of this sermon, has admitted that he’s re-examining faith after years of ignoring it as a trite mind control of humankind. Because of people like the Derksens who believe that “love alone is worth the fight” (Switchfoot). Their willingness to forgive their daughter’s killer  changed them, but it also changed Gladwell, too.

What will your forgiveness do this week? Go and see.

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Sunday’s Sermon Today: Blessing In The Middle (Matthew 5:3-12)

Posted on February 5, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

Imagine with me for a minute that you have been presented with the following story of how a human life will play out. Consider it Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind meets Minority Report. This life hasn’t been lived yet, but you have full editing powers!

Adam will be born in March. He will be declared ‘mostly blind’ by the time he is six, that will prevent him from being able to read well and see the colors of the world around him. He will struggle as a student, but due to his needs, he will meet another student who can see but can’t hear named Robert. The two will bond and grow together until it is discovered that Robert has terminal brain cancer, and he will pass away as they enter high school.

Continuing to struggle academically, Adam will go to a local college and work part-time to help pay the bills. Driving him from school to work one day, Adam’s dad will be hit by a drunk driver, and their car will plow into a family of four. Although it was not their fault, Adam and his family blame themselves for the loss of life, and Adam falls into a depression. 

Eventually, Adam graduates and loves his new job, but the recession causes Adam to be laid off and his handicap keeps him from receiving many job offers. He finally files for bankruptcy, and lives month to month. There’s no retirement and as he grows older, he finds himself working harder than ever before. 

Psychologist Jonathan Haidt presented a case study similar to this to a group of participants and asked them to edit out what they would change about this as-of-yet-unlived life. One hundred percent of the respondents edited out the tragic moments, and the hardships. Author and theologian John Ortberg asked in response if they weren’t “wasting a crisis?”

Seems crazy, doesn’t it? That we might ‘waste’ a crisis, one that was avoidable?

The truth is that bad things do happen, and in our Scripture from Matthew today, we see Jesus laying out how we respond to the tragedies… not how we avoid them.

Hear them again through the Message’s translation:

“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

“You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

“You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

“You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

“You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

“You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

“You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

“You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

“Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble.

So what does it look like if we live through this blessing in the middle, the space between joy and pain, between sunshine and rain, between despair and achieved hope?

One Sunday as they drove home from church, a little girl turned to her mother and said, “Mommy, there’s something about the preacher’s message this morning that I don’t understand.”

The mother said, “Oh? What is it?”

The little girl replied, “Well, he said that God is bigger than we are. He said God is so big that He could hold the world in His hand. Is that true?”

The mother replied, “Yes, that’s true, honey.”

“But Mommy, he also said that God comes to live inside of us when we believe in Jesus as our Savior. Is that true, too?”

Again, the mother assured the little girl that what the pastor had said was true.

With a puzzled look on her face the little girl then asked, “If God is bigger than us and He lives in us, wouldn’t He show through?”

If we all lived the BEATTITUDES, GOD WOULD SHINE THROUGH.

These blessings in the middle are our “Be-Attitudes,” the way that Jesus told those who would listen what they are to be, what they should look like.

But too often we know what the Beattitudes look like because of what we or other people are not.

Adam Hamilton prepared a sermon on the Beatitudes and asked people for examples:

“My mom isn’t a follower of Christ and looks nothing like the beatitudes. Fortunate are poor in spirit? My mother knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. She has no hope beyond having more right now. Fortunate are the meek? My mother treats everything like a battle with winners and losers. She seeks to be a winner which looks nothing like the gentleness you spoke of in meekness. Fortunate are the merciful? My mother has a condescending personality and keeps score. She seeks revenge, not justice. She is poisoned by hate. It’s all about her. My mother is suffering in a spiritless hopeless world. She has no hope, only the cross of cynicism to bear. You get the picture. Her life is the opposite of the beatitudes. It is misery.”

Unfortunately, sometimes, the best definition of the Beatitudes is the anti-Beatitude.

People who are rich only in money. The people who never embracing the suffering of others. The brash and the pushy. The satisfied in real food and drink who don’t worry that others are hungry; the satisfied with “I know it all” who don’t hunger after more of what God offers. The merciless. The peacekeepers, or those who take what they want.

Sometimes, tragically, that’s the Church!

Years ago, I worked at a coffee shop near the University of Kentucky while I was in seminary. The shop was owned by some Christians who worked hard to make sure that all were welcome. The employees represented all points of view and backgrounds. The atmosphere was collegiate… and discussions flew fast and furious. But all of the employees hated to work on Sunday.

Why, you ask?

Because the post-church crowd left the worst tips.

You say, but that’s just one place in a college town…

A few months ago, I found myself on the receiving end of a sermon, from a waitress at Cracker Barrel. She told me, as I sat there with three other ministers, that as a divorced mother trying to make a living, she couldn’t stand to work… on Sundays… because the tips were so bad.

Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s just the serving types on Sundays who see church and want it to be different. I imagine many people reading this feel the same way.

But are we actually doing something about it? Have we bought into the American dream where we make enough to take care of ours, where we think once we’ve checked off the ‘been to church’ box that we’re done for the week, where we expect that when it comes to service that someone else will cover it?

Look at these Beatitudes again.

You’re blessed when you don’t know what tomorrow holds, when you count on God to provide and don’t worry about the rest.

You’re blessed when you’ve given everything for the kingdom of God, when your hands are empty so they can be filled with and by God himself.

You’re blessed when you’re so hungry that you can’t get enough of God. When worship isn’t enough, and Bible study isn’t enough, and praying over meals isn’t enough, but you want it all.

You’re blessed when you care so much for others that your care for yourself comes second, when your compassion for others’ suffering makes you incarnational in their experience.

You’re blessed when even your thoughts are turned over to God, when you care most about the things that matter to God.

You’re blessed when your care for others and for the things of the kingdom bring you trouble, because troubling others for God is part of being a disciple. When you catch flack for doing the right thing, you know you’re pursuing God and you’re in good company with Elijah, and Jeremiah, and Paul, and Peter, and James, and John…

When life gets tough, we tend to go looking for help. When we experience hardship, we recognize better that it’s about our relationship with God and not about us. We recognize that we can’t do it on our own. Sometimes, if we’re wise, we’ll see that hardship “produces perseverance, and that perseverance leads to maturity” (James 1:2-4).

A few weeks ago, we watched Meet the Robinsons, a Disney movie that I missed somewhere in my early 20s. It’s about an orphaned kid named Lewis who grows up wanting to invent time travel so he can find out who his mom really is. But through the course of the movie, he comes to recognize that he’s used his struggle to make himself better; he’s become a better person who will change the world because of his hardship. And he chooses not to meet his mother when he gets the opportunity.

The next day, I was skimming ESPN for good articles leading up to the Super Bowl and tripped across the story of Seattle Seahawks’ backup fullback Derrick Coleman who is deaf.   Hearing went gradually from his ears, and there’s even the chapter of the story where he was beaten up on the playground, and his hearing aids thrown away, just because he was different. But Coleman did more pushups, he focused more, he drove himself to be a running back at UCLA and a Super Bowl member of the Seahawks. His deafness became an attribute when the crowd is going crazy and when the criticism is raining down- he embraced the difficulty of not being able to hear.

How’s that for an attitude change? Could you make it?

What would it look like if we were so much of the BE ATTITUDES that people couldn’t help but notice? If we were so like Jesus that when the world seems to fall apart or other people have given up hope, that we shine?

What happens if we were so full of love for others, even those who were alien and repulsive and troubling to us, that people marveled at our love capacity?

What would it look like if people wanted to work on Sunday lunch because that’s when the best tips came?

What would happen if we started to show people that church wasn’t a ‘defense of truth’ but a way of love?

Jesus’ Be Attitudes weren’t about dry theology and “thou shall nots…” They were ways that we could love others, and in the process, show them what God was like.

Be someone’s Jesus Attitude this week. I dare you.

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Strangers At My Door: Radical Hospitality (Book Review)

Posted on February 4, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

Jonathan and Leah Wilson-Hartgrave have taken hospitality to a whole new level. Founding Rutba House, they have ingrained themselves in Walltown, a Durham, NC, neighborhood, where they take in homeless men and women so that they can land safely and try to take control of their lives. Their book, Strangers at My Door: A True Story of Finding Jesus in Unexpected Guests, will challenge what you think you know about homelessness, and hospitality, begging you to consider how you might get involved.

Last month, I finished Tattoos on the Heart, an exploration of a Catholic priest’s efforts to integrate his ministry in the community with reforming gang members. Reading Strangers at My Door, I find the same sense of wide-open, mind-blowing love that looks a lot like the Jesus of the Gospels who cared for murderers, tax collectors, prostitutes, and the demon-possessed, without judgment or finger pointing. It truly is inspirational, and moving, as Wilson-Hartgrove recounts story after story.

Noticeably, the homeless people, drug addicts, and criminals who are mentioned here all have names. It seems so basic, right? But the truth is that the love they receive through Rutba House humanizes them in a way that years of branding, recrimination, and the downward spiral of what’s expected of them has hammered them even lower. There are expectations for how they need to interact and participate in the house, but this is a communal, democratic negotiation.

I love reading stories like these because they challenge me to be more gracious and more openhearted. But the historical ramifications of Durham, of the Civil War, and of homelessness in general are additional attributes that make this more than just a memoir. Additionally, Wilson-Hartgrave’s experience and knowledge of the prison system, the death penalty, and the social service problems in Durham make it a significantly deeper (and complex) book than it might have been otherwise.

For anyone seeking to make a difference, or looking to be inspired, Strangers at My Door has what it takes to be a life-changing read, and an entrée into a world of faith that many of us have never known.

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What Difference Do I Make? (Mustard Seed Musing)

Posted on February 3, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

Who am I? Why am I here?

Basic questions. The reasons for life, right?

Sometimes, as I person and a pastor, I recognize the first but I wonder about the second. Have I done enough? Am I faithful enough? Am I leading the church in the right direction?

It’s easy to throw out the starfish scenario. I’m sure you’ve heard it: a man throwing beached starfish into the sea, but can’t throw them all in based on the overwhelming numbers. Someone asks him why he does it when he can’t save them all, and he responds, “It matters to the ones that I can throw back.”

Trite, cliched… and yet true. Yet, somedays, it’s easy to get caught up in the ones we can’t help or save or even seem to make any difference with.

Call it the midwinter blahs, between Christmas and… March Madness. But lately, I’ve been wondering, and considering how to write about it here. And then I was tagged in this post, about my church and our impact.

(Yes, it’s reprinted with permission!)

So I’m laying here on the couch re-reading a great book and listening to some great music when this amazing song comes on and it starts to remind me where I was in my life and my sanity the summer of 2011.

You see, I was living in a place I had never lived, in a hotel, and alone. Very much into the alcoholic life I had become accustomed to, 12-20 Bud Light bottles a night, maybe some rum and coke, or a shot or two of tequilla (why not? Jose Quervo was definitely a friend of mine). To get to work, the store, or the the sushi restaurant, I had to go past this little church. I could feel my heart start to pull me, but my fear keeping me away.

I remember toward the end of June( exactly 30, days after I arrived) sending an emotionally charged and draining email begging for help just as I was to leave on a 4 day pass. It took 3 Sundays (after the I got back from pass) of pulling in the parking lot and being too afraid to get out of my truck to finally walk through the doors, and into the arms of a pretty cool family. I wasn’t immediately receptive, in fact I managed to slip in just as the service started, and get out quickly following the Benediction. I didn’t want to talk to anyone just yet, I didn’t want anyone to know I was still hungover at 11 am at in church… I felt ashamed. I sent another email, stating I was ready to start… whatever it was I was ready, and he sent me an angel. He sent me someone who understood, who was ok with me crying, yelling and screaming, who on August 10,2011, dragged me to my first meeting. 

This little family from a place I had never been, where I hit rock bottom, showed me that faith in myself, faith in people, and faith in GOD would, with a lot of hard work on my part restore me to the person I was long ago, and was always supposed to be. This is where I learned to TRUST again, where I learned I am in control, where I learned, once again, what it felt like to be sober, but mostly where I learned that GOD had never left me. This is where I learned that God had to let me fall, in order for me to understand that left to my own devises, I would never be happy. That through God, all things are possible.

I left my home away from home at 0400 on September 17,2011 still an alcoholic, but now a recovering alcoholic. I definitely left a different person, a WHOLE person, and a better person!

In two short months my life took on a whole new meaning. That book is Not a Fan, the music is by Matt Maher, the song is “Heaven Help Me Now,” the minister is Jacob, the angel is now my husband.
I blame YOU for the blessed life I lead now, for sending the angel who will forever be in my life, the great family I have in Virginia, the clarity I have. I thank God everyday that you didn’t blow off that email, and fear might have been been if you had!

Although I have made a few trips back since I left, none will ever be more memorable than that night in July with my new husband and my 15 year old daughter, to renew 6 day old vows with the family, who without knowledge, saved my life!

This is a shortened account, this is MY story, I was truly blessed that summer by God, a minister who took a chance, and many many strangers!

Sometimes, one story is all the reminder we need to remember, give thanks, and keeping moving forward.

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The Truest Thing About You: Who Are You? (Book Review)

Posted on January 31, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

David Lomas begins his first book by asking us, “what is the truest thing about you?”

That’s the defining question that he’ll explore throughout The Truest Thing About You: Identity, Desire, And Why It All Matters. He shares his struggle over identity as he recounts stories from his time working as a barista and as a pastor at the same time. (I can relate: in my first years in the pastorate, I was a YMCA lifeguard, a junior college English professor, a free lance writer, and pastor of a local church!) How was what he did similar to or the same as who he was? How did those two things work together and how do they work against each other?

For Lomas, the book is about asking us to get to a place where we recognize that our career, our work, is not the same thing as our significance. I find myself establishing in my own mind that I want my sons and wife to know who I am without hesitation, and to respect who that person is. That’s what Lomas is pushing for, our identity for ourselves and in God, separated from the tags that others might put on us.

Points are made here that may (or may not) be shocking, that we should all consider.

-There is nothing about us that is 100 percent secure.

-There is nothing about what you have that cannot be taken away from you.

-There is nothing about what you desire that cannot be changed.

All of these things are true, Lomas writes, but he launches into an exploration of the imago dei, the way that we were created by, in, and for community that stands as a major portion of the book. How that identity plays out, and how we live into it, is what Lomas’ thesis drives us toward, with an additional help from the New Testament’s introduction of Jesus as Immanuel (“God with us”) in a book that will challenge readers to think theologically about their relationships, their careers, and their life goals.

Lomas’ debut is challenging but not tricky. The book is accessible but not necessarily as inclined to an entry-level inspection of faith or group discussion. It’ll ask you to consider your values, and encourage you to make sure you’re finding your value in what’s really important.

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Shovel Ready: Taking Out The Trash (Book Review)

Posted on January 30, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

Adam Sternbergh’s debut novel is told in the first person by Spademan (not his real name) who lost his wife in a terrorist attack on Times Square, and became a hit man for whoever can call his number and pay the bills in a world dominated by escapism and terror. But he has one rule: he doesn’t kill children. And when televangelist T.K. Harrow hires him to snuff out the life of his daughter, Persephone AKA Grace, Spademan’s reluctance puts him in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse.

The world Spademan inhabits is separated even more sharply by the haves and the have-nots, as the rich have retreated more and more into a cyber world where their every wish is granted and their problems are left behind while they ’sleep.’ There’s a stream of sci-fi history running through Sternbergh’s influences, from Philip K. Dick to The Surrogates to The Matrix. The world still exists but what’s real and what’s fantasy are becoming less and less divided.

Harrows’ influence on the world is gripping: he’s offering a ‘why wait?’ program, where ‘true believers’ can experience heaven now, but he knows that (in a bit of sci-fi intrigue) people respond better with real people and not just chemical balance, so he starts tapping into sleepers who are just ‘playmates’ for others. It’s a portrayal of classicist behavior mixed in with the warped way that televangelists have factored in people’s desire to belong to something, and manipulated it for their financial benefit.

Sternbergh, the culture editor for The New York Times Magazine, doesn’t mince words, even if he eschews punctuation when it comes to dialogue. This is heady stuff pushed down into simple form, like recognizing that there’s more going on in the works of Mickey Spillane and Robert B. Parker than simple banter. It’s an easy read from a storytelling perspective (I read it in one sitting) but it’s subversively complex, and may need to be read twice! Not for the faint of heart, Sternbergh delves into Spademan’s executions, delivers salty dialogue, and shows us the worst in humanity. But it also shows that even in the midst of death and despair, humanity rises.

See, Spademan isn’t as lost a soul as we might think. Sure, he’s an anti-hero, but… where does his moral code come from? How much of his Catholic (I’m guessing) background drive his decision not to kill Persephone? What makes him wade in and fight Harrows when he could’ve given her up, or left the area all together? Something makes him stop… some spark.

Sternbergh’s use of the Eucharistic imagery, and his decision to use a TV evangelist as the villain, show a decidedly religious (or anti-religious) slant. The “why wait for heaven” money grab is disturbing… but it echoes the way that many look at the kingdom of God. Rather than relationally, it’s about checking it off one’s list, and articulating it in a way that ends up being all about them… rather than about the way we relate to God. Sternbergh calls ‘foul’ here, but does so through the lens of science fiction; that doesn’t mean we can’t look at how the church is perceived in the here-and-now, and re-evaluate.

Sternbergh’s delivery is pretty awesome, and I can’t wait to read the next story in the Spademan chronicles. Who knows where the author will take us? I doesn’t matter: it’ll be intense.

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Flesh: Why Does The Incarnation Matter? (Book Review)

Posted on January 30, 2014 by Jacob Sahms

Hugh Halter’s Flesh: Bringing the Incarnation Down to Earth does just that: it grounds our high, holy ideas about why Jesus was “God with skin on” in the life and ministry of the Denver pastor. Like a good teacher, Halter lays out where he’s going from the get-go: he wants to show us how Jesus was God’s process to show the incarnation, God’s reputation, a God-humanity conversation, a confrontation, and, finally, transformation. Halter succeeds in doing this, both theologically but also literally, taking us on a written journey that is equally engaging and challenging.

Now, let me just say that reading a pastor’s theological reflections and finding Jason Mraz lyrics and references to The Word on the Street paraphrase of the Bible in the first few chapters is pretty refreshing. Finding that in a setting where the pastor wants to make the doctrine of the incarnation approachable to everyone is… incarnational. Honestly, if we’re expecting that people are going to grow spiritually, we have to be able to convey ourselves in a way that they can read it, consider it, and digest it, and Halter does that here.

Not only does Halter set up the progression as promised but he also gives us three steps of homework after each chapter, to “think,” “feel,” and “do.” Frankly, as I’ve been reflecting on the “love the Lord your God…love your neighbor…” a lot lately, I find that combines the two, because to Love God requires thinking about it and feeling it, and doing is the natural result of getting there! In that regard, Halter presents theological truths but also makes them practical and applicable to our lives, earning him not just heady seminary-level praise but a vote for “I could use this in a small group or with my college students.”

A few of my favorite passages…

“People are not pagans to reconverted, projects to be preached at, or demographics to be reprogrammed. Humans should never be generalized, categorized, dismissed, judged, or underestimated. Every person is a story, rich with history, experiences, creative potential, strengths and weaknesses, clarity and blindness. And although spiritual vertigo is universal, we must not put everyone in the same box” (38).

“As you consider a fleshy life that matters, ponder who you will fight alongside with and what you will fight for. Find things that make you mad or sad, to the point where your blood boils and tears fall, and get a plan to move forward” (139).

Ultimately, as a person of faith, I liked that Halter’s book isn’t just for ‘baby Christians’ or ‘weathered veterans,’ but that it recognizes that a journey of faith has several stages, stops, starts, rest areas, etc. We’re not all at the same place in our journey (regardless of how we may be hash tagged and boxed in by the media) and we all need something different at different stages.

That’s the beauty of the incarnation: Jesus didn’t come to live a moment of your life, but he came to live a human life, from beginning to end. So, we can’t say, well, God didn’t see ‘this’ or ‘that,’ because he did. Jesus came, having emptied himself of all but love, to show us that God wanted to be with us. In the flesh, and down to Earth.

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