A Living Theology

Thanks to my good friend, Lo Mielke (and our brief conversation a few days ago), my mind has been thinking a great deal about how much our life experiences, our circumstances, and our surrounding culture influence our theology and the way we view and understand God. The notion is simple, but its reality has been hitting me like a ton of bricks. Of course, my sensitivity to cultural influences and practices has been significantly heightened since we left the Denver metro area for a small rural community in Texas – talk about a significant milieu shift.

Theology is not a sterile, laboratory science that is examined and probed in an isolated vacuum. It is not merely an intellectual endeavor, though many strive to make it so. Theology is intricately woven and intertwined with our experiences and culture. This is why I am convinced that every generation must diligently work to develop new theologies and new ways of understanding and then articulating who God is (and what that means for us). Old theologies must be examined and tested, and new creative thinking must be engaged. This is not to say that old theological systems (particularly those of the sixteenth century) do not hold immense value. On the contrary, they provide excellent lessons to us on how to think critically and theologically about the cultures and circumstances around us. They were theologies written in the vernacular of those days that spoke to cultural phenomenons of their specific time and era. Luther’s theses (for example) of 1517 were a direct attack on the pervasive cultural practice of buying and selling indulgences by the Roman Catholic Church.

So there is the need to new theological reflection. But there is also a need for a keen awareness of how much culture influences our theological perceptions (sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse). Living in Colorado were there is a strong presence of environmentalism and conservation, I have a view of God’s world and our responsibility to care for it (see the creation account in Genesis) that is most likely outside the mainstream ideology of political conservatives. And my experience of working at the Denver Rescue Mission (a ministry to the homeless) for four years has produced in me a view of ministry that is much more “geographical” – I am convinced that the Christian church is called to their city or community, not to a niche demographic.

From a circumstantial viewpoint, a person who has experienced deep loss or failure in ministry has a distinctly different perception of God (his blessing and providence) than one who has not experienced such things. The fact that Adina has lived through the suicide of two immediate family members has given her uniqueness in her view and grasp of God that few possess. A person who has experienced (or is experiencing) significant depression understands God differently from one who has not had such experiences. I say all this to make the point that we must be aware and critical of what shapes our theology. And perhaps, in our ministry to others, we must be courageous and dare to shape or create a new culture (and its experiences) in order to provide a more accurate view of God.

Walking Among the Dead

I am convinced that everyone should periodically walk among the dead. By the phrase “walk among the dead,” I mean that everyone should, from time to time (once a year or so), quietly and thoughtfully walk the grounds of a nearby cemetery. Why it that the only time we walk among the dead is when someone we know dies? I’m not saying that we should have a weird fascination with cemeteries, but rather that walking among the dead gives us a humble sense of our own mortality, that we are made for something else, for something more. We are made for eternity, specifically eternity with God.

All this talk of death and cemeteries was prompted by my involvement in a family funeral for an elderly lady who was a strong, spiritual pillar in the church we are leading. Not knowing how long it would take me to reach the grave site, I left early enough to allow for an extended drive. I managed to reach the cemetery fairly quickly (nearly thirty minutes ahead of time), which allowed me time to slowly peruse the memorial park. The experience was overwhelming, and I found myself tearing up numerous times.

The truth of the matter is that I was overcome with a keen sense or awareness that my lifetime is a speck or fragment of eternity. There is only so much time to love others, to strive for Christ-likeness, to grow and learn from my mistakes. And I was overcome by the thought of my parents and family members getting closer to the end of their physical lives. There is a difficult tension within me: I hate the idea of death and losing those I am closest to, but I also know that fellowship with Christ beyond this temporal life is so much sweeter and better. It is a good and necessary tension, I think – but certainly not an easy one. Perhaps this is why Paul wrote Philippians 1:21, “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” From the context of the passage, one can tell that he was wrestling with the same tension.

Twinkle, Twinkle

It is official: Connor can sing almost all of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” Of course he has a few wrong pitches and some half-pronounced words, but the song is definitely recognizable. It actually caught me off guard when I first heard it; we have never actually heard him attempt to sing a song before. The small milestone brought a smile to my face and a chuckle. Watch out, Pavarotti!

Glimmers of Hope

Today I had the privilege of joining an early morning (6:00 a.m.) Bible Study at the main Church of Christ campus here in Sweetwater. You know you are in a small town when a church is named strictly by its location (4^th and Elm Church of Christ). The study was all men (mainly older) from a number of local churches. What was encouraging was that the nature of the content of the study was actually engaging and thought-provoking, focusing on the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness. I probably would have preferred a little more interaction (and less lecture), but overall it was uplifting to be around other men eager to learn more about scripture.

Later in the day I received a call from another local pastor here in Sweetwater who is interested in connecting for coffee (at the local Whataburger). From what I have been told, he is a younger pastor who is a great person to know, full of passion, and one who could offer some genuine insights into life and ministry here locally. So I was encouraged, and honestly it felt really good to have someone call and say, “Welcome to Sweetwater - I’m here to help in any way possible.”

The Joys of Transition

So…we have been in Texas for almost a month, and the true effects of transition are beginning to set in. It seems as though the “honeymoon” stage of a new place and a new role have quickly come and gone, and we are facing the harsh reality that we know very few people here in Sweetwater and feel culturally out of place. Just this morning David and I ran to a nearby donut shop called Doris’s Sweet Shop, and as we entered an older gentleman gave me one of those “you’re not from around here” looks after noticing that I was wearing flip flops (or thongs, as some would say). And so, as you can imagine, our minds and hearts have been flooded with questions of doubt and confusion. Is this really where God wants us? Why would he lead us to a place where we feel so out-of-place?

I think for Adina the struggle has been that very few people in the church we are leading have called, come by, or made any significant effort to reach out to us. This is coupled with the realization that 1) there are no other stay-at-home mothers her age and that 2) there are no other families that really match our demographic. So we are feeling out-of-place in more ways than one. We keep telling ourselves that relationships take time and effort, and that we need to give ourselves (and others) a measure of grace. But that does not take away the heartache of missing good friends and all that is familiar.

We were privileged to attend our first official Sweetwater High School football game last night, which was quite the cultural experience. We were told to wear red, and we certainly were glad that we did. Connor lasted about a quarter and a half before getting bored and restless, and I spent the bulk of the first half trying to explain the basics of the game to David. But all in all, there was a small connection made with our community. Friday night football, down here in Texas, is a religion in crude form.

Today, I gave Adina “a day away” with her close friend Pam that she has known almost twenty years. Twenty years is a long time to know someone. They went over to the nearby metropolis of Abilene, Texas to eat, gab, and get pedicures (all that girly stuff) while us boys had “quality” time together. Keeping up with two energetic boys is exhausting and an exercise in patience and extending mercy. On more than one occasion during the day I wanted to resort to barking commands and making threats, but thankfully I resisted the temptation. My time with them (before saying goodnight and tucking them in bed) ended with David asking the deeply theological question, “Did people go to heaven before Jesus was born?” Leave it to my son to ask such a question five minutes before he needs to be in bed. The question led to an interesting discussion on whether people, before the time of Jesus, could know God without knowing about the Israelites or being an Israelite. Needless to say, my mind is tired.

Continue to pray that God will give us wisdom and discernment about our situation here. I know that the Lord has good things in store, and I firmly believe he wants to see significant transformation not only in us but also within the congregation we are here to lead. Pray that we will find our strength, peace, and rest in Him despite the immediate "joys of transition."